Terpsichore

Terpsichore is the Muse of Dance.

Of the art, hers is the most pure. She has no brushes or canvas, clay or stone to hide behind, no time to sit with it or edit. She responds immediately with only her body. She has been dancing for thousands of years and can always find new ways to move, in part because Euterpe is always finding new sounds and songs, previously unconsidered combinations.

She likes the dances that remind her of animals, what it would feel like to be an elegant crane or a powerful bear.

Both Terpsichore and Euterpe work in a most public form, but they perform for themselves. Their artwork looks inward. The performance belongs to them. Terpsichore knows every dance and could be as sexy as any pop star, but she is not there to be watched, appraised, admired. She moves because without movement, her world stops spinning, because our world stops spinning as well.

She likes flamenco and krump, expressive dances that are strong and move the air. She wants to inspire people to share themselves, be bold, not shy. She hates a delicate dancer. She can ballet but would rather battle.