When she was ten years old, Isadora Duncan dropped out of school to teach people dance. If that job was left to any other ten-year-old, it would have turned out frustrating, difficult, and a little discouraging.
But Duncan was different. Not only was she already talented enough to earn money even at that age, but she also had a rare kind of confidence that helped her treat troubles as fuel —something to elevate the fire that is already burning inside of her.
It's no surprise, then, that when she moved to New York to join a theatre company, she found herself restricted. The existing dancing style, their way of operating—all of this seemed to her the work of a misguided past. Duncan was very direct about what she wanted, confidently telling people she had a different vision of dance that she was going to spread in the world. This, naturally, led to ridicule and laughs early on, but as she built up her work, these instances became less frequent. Today, she is remembered as "The Mother of Dance," with much of the modern art owing its expressive style to her influence. Inspired by the ancient Greeks, she brought the style to life.
In her autobiography (自传), one of the things Duncan frequently refers to as the basis of her expressive spirit is the fact that she had a childhood where she wasn't constantly watched. The expectations of her mother (who raised her) were open-ended. It was the freedom of this lifestyle that drove her to see what she could do.
Growing up, before she left school, she was told one of two things: that she was either completely useless or that she was a genius. There was nothing in between. Even when she started working, people either bowed to her or they basically ignored her. But there wasn't one moment Duncan doubted her own genius.
There is an old quotation "if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid." And it captures an important truth. At school, Isadora Duncan was a failure. In the dance hall, she gave form to brilliance.
