A day in the life of a 'Dancing Queen'

By Michelle Murphy

Senior Cecilia Peterson is only 5'7, but she looks taller on stage. As she rehearses, her long, toned arms extend toward the ceiling, creating an elegant line from the tips of her sinewy fingers to the bottom of her bare, arched foot.

Her flaxen, chin-length hair is parted down the center, and swept back in an attempt at a low bun. Bobby pins help keep up the sides. It looks natural, comfortable, easy. Her hair is rarely seen otherwise. That is because she is rarely not dancing.

Peterson is one of the many students involved in this quarter's "Images" performance, a faculty and student choreographed dance program that will be performed at Mayer Theater this weekend. This is the fourth year that she has been a part of the production, which she deems both stressful and exciting.

"It's exciting because it's the one main stage dance show of the year," Peterson said. "The budget is bigger too, so it looks more professional. The costumes are all made, and the lighting is done really well. We work long and hard on the pieces and it's nice to be able to share that work with everyone in something we're all really proud of."

However, all that hard work can be a strain as well. As a double major (dance and psychology) she has all the stress of the average student, and about six hours less a day to study, time taken up with extra classes and rehearsal. Seeing her on stage, you'd never know her passion could also be stressful.

Her soft fabric costume hugs every curve of her strong body, parting ever so slightly to reveal a flexed thigh as she glides across the black rubber stage. The dancers' bare feet grip the floor and squeak rhythmically. It is soothingly audible above the music: a beautiful German soprano voice.

The top of Peterson's golden halter dress accents her defined shoulders and elegantly protruding collar bones. Her pale skin looks almost celestial in the auditorium's light.

It would be really easy for Cecilia just to give it all up. If she were practical she probably would. But she is a dancer, and rules of practicality just don't apply to her. Asking her to give up dancing would be like asking her to give up air. Like most of the dancers at Santa Clara, that just isn't an option. The rewards, to Peterson, are worth the stress.

"I wouldn't do it if I didn't love it," Peterson said in a characteristically quiet and understated voice. "That makes it easier to balance everything. But trying to get everything done is really hard. Sleeping enough is a struggle. It's difficult to stay on top of things."

As the rest of the Santa Clara student population spends their Saturday night at keg parties with their friends, she is stuck doing homework. "Images" rehearsals have increased dramatically before the show. Most of the weekend she's been dancing, which hasn't left much time for psychology or her other academic classes. The fatigue seems worth it.

Hued light washes over the stage casting strange shadows on her silken costume. Her movements, alternately violent and soft, coalesce, made graceful by her carefully trained and sculpted body. Her calloused feet glide effortlessly along the stage, drifting in and out of perfectly choreographed steps. For Peterson, it's the same routine she has done hundreds of times. She's dissected it, perfected it. For the audience, she appears to be doing it for the first time, spontaneously immersed in emotion.

The dance is a story of a unique flower. It is lifeless in the sun, but blooms beautifully in the light of the moon.

"I think it's a bit like my own life," Peterson said. "I spend most of my day working, practicing and taking classes. I realize my time to shine isn't the same as everyone else's. But I think that's also what makes performing so special."

It is special for her audience as well. As a Santa Clara dancer, she, like most of her colleagues, walks in the shadows. Their talents, so unique, go often unseen.

As the house lights in Mayer Theater go down, another world appears. Dancers of all shapes, sizes and majors bloom in the soft glow of the stage. Months of rehearsal and years of training come to fruition. And then, with the light brushing of feet barely audible above the final notes of music, they're gone as quickly as they came.

û Contact Michelle Murphy at (408) 554-4546 or mdmurphy@scu.edu.