bal

MIGUEL BALMACEDA
the Art of Walking
by Marco Castellani

If the Classical Ballet signifies spirituality through elevation, Tango is rather terrestrial. The milonguero worships the floor; his "caminar", and even more the way he "pisa", testify his telluric faith: i dare to say that in the Tango-salòn are the feet that attend to the divine service. The plutonic religion’s High Priest was certainly Miguel Balmaceda: here is a short and admiring portrait of the greatest walker i ever saw.

We give now Marcelo Menasché leave to speak

"… The porteño dancer does not run and does not jump, because these things are for the gringos. He does not embellish his dance, because this is not for men. Sober, infinitely sober, he just walks. This is his virtuosity. He performs variations of incredible refinement, whereas all the others see nothing but walking; he divides the rhythm, he slows down or quickens to the music, he always masters the timing."

As the Bruce Chatwin’s wonderful pages have demonstrated to the world, walking is a simple and pure human action that concentrates a millenary wisdom. Several top artists made themselves a name as great walkers: Arthur Rimbaud, for instance, the movie director Werner Herzog or the Raùl Gonzalez-Tuñon & Juancito Caminador poetical Duo. The top walker Miguel made rather himself a name as the great artist of walking.
In his Tango school you used to learn exclusively how to walk and how to place your feet on the floor without hurting it. Even though Miguel was a stocky-physique man, he touched the floor as firm as a rhizome and as soft as a cougar.
Monsieur Verlaine said once that Arthur Rimbaud was "l’homme aux semmelles de vent", or the man with the soles made of wind: we, as well as anybody who ever saw Miguel dancing, are certain that the springtime trades were always blowing under Mr. Balmaceda shoes.
He was the man who created the "base larga", a little something, as the Petrolinian Gladstone would say, which is the ultimate tool for walkers: no Tango dancer can seriously allow himself to ignore it today.
With his partner Nelly, Miguel Balmaceda directed the pratica and the milonga of Canning until 1992, when it was still called Salòn Helenico thanks to the prominent archaeological relics - some among them were not even self-moving - that graecized its upholstery. All the best dancers in Buenos Aires used to go to Canning: either the porteño peripateticism’s leading figures and the crowd of candidates for cougars.
Miguel knew the feet of all of them, personally.

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