Dora Angela Duncan, known as Isadora Duncan (San Francisco, May 27, 1878 - Nice, September 14, 1927) was an American dancer.
Obsessed with dance, she reached classical perfection and was constantly innovative. When she was five-year-old, she told her family that she would be a revolutionary dancer, and she was. Could have been a pianist, painter or poet, but her dance gathered all that.
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Enemy of the ballet, a genre which she considered false and absurd, said the dance should establish a warm harmony between people and life, and not just a nice fun and frivolous. In her memoirs she wrote that there are three types of dancers: first, those who consider dance as a kind of gymnastics consists on graceful and impersonal arabesques. Then who, thanks to the concentration of their mind, take their body to the rhythm of the chosen emotion, expressing a remembered feeling or experience. Finally, those who convert the body into a luminous fluidity, surrendering to the inspiration of the soul.
For Isadora, was the love of nature and life that had to be transmitted through the movement, following the example of the clouds, the sea or the tops of the trees swaying in the wind. She hated the mechanical movements ordered by the choreographers, as if the dance was also reduced to read music. She danced barefoot, with a single transparent silk tunic Greek on her naked body as a pagan priestess carried by the rhythm.
During the boom of Marinetti and Futurism (repeat motion machines, planes that litter the sky with smoke and noise, speeding cars) once confessed that the machines had been her enemies, they killed her three children, the first two because they drowned in a car that lost its brakes and the third, who was stillborn, because the Germans had entered Paris and the doctor could not arrive on time to her home.
Obsessed because a car could kill her as well, if she fell into the water and was locked up, just moved in convertible cars. One afternoon, while riding in one of them with a handsome Italian rider, her long scarf became entangled in a rear wheel and strangled her. They were speeding along the Promenade des Anglais in Nice. As if two beautiful and talented people under the skies of the Costa Azul only needed a paradise.
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