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Time to tango

The region is seeing a renaissance in traditional and "nuevo" forms, thanks to those TV dance shows and a tight economy.

A few plaster and porcelain sculptures still line the shelves of Jerry Klein's South Street studio apartment - an owl, a goat, a naked woman or six.

But Klein's volumes of art-history books are stacked in paper bags near the kitchen. His drawings and supplies are similarly exiled to a back room.

It's for the best, though. He needed space for all the high-heeled shoes.

"I moved in here to make it a sculpting studio," Klein says, slicing watermelon chunks for the guests gallivanting on his expansive hardwood floor. "Then I just realized at one point a number of years ago that I really wanted to dance."

The style: Argentine tango.

The invitees: anyone in the Philadelphia area with two feet, an open mind, and, in a woman's case, deft mobility in heels.

Slowly but surely, it seems, the city is following the lead of the local easel-splasher-turned-toe-tapper. With dance shows ruling the tube and cheap thrills at a premium in this economy, the conditions may finally be right for a tango takeover.

It was, after all, only a few years ago that instructors counted 200 to 300 people who danced on a consistent basis. Now, it's anybody's guess. What they do know - the dance floor is getting more crowded.

"A year ago, I knew everyone who danced tango in Philly," said Sam Wilson, whose Tango411 studio in Media has seen a 10 percent bump in business this year. "Now, I go out, and there are people I've never seen before."

In particular, a variation on traditional tango - called tango nuevo - has found an audience in the city. Diverging from the standard, more restrained template, the nuevo style calls for an open embrace and freer leg movements. Because of its heightened physicality - and camera-ready acrobatics - nuevo typically appeals to a younger demographic.

Philadelphia Argentine Tango School cofounders Andres Amarilla and Meredith Klein (no relation to Jerry), the area's chief proponents of nuevo, say that interest in beginner's instruction is rising dramatically - with dancers in their 20s and 30s leading the surge.

Shortly after the married couple first moved to Philadelphia from Buenos Aires in February 2008, they attracted enough students to fill only two weekly classes. But with 10 to 20 dancers joining each month - Klein and Amarilla rent Klein-the-artist's space for lessons - the couple were able to hold eight classes this spring.

"Tango has increasingly been a phenomenon around the world, and Philadelphia was sort of lagging behind," said Klein, who grew up in Montgomery County but sold most of her possessions in 2005 and moved to Buenos Aires. There, at a milonga (a tango dance party), she met Amarilla, a native who had danced professionally since age 11 under the tutelage of some of the world's premier nuevo practitioners.

When the two decided to move here, they hoped to land in a city where tango had not yet "tipped" in the right direction. "It was our chance to be a part of making it tip," Klein said.

To that end, the two plan to open their own space later this month in Fishtown, billing it as a come-as-you-please "tango house," according to Amarilla. Visitors will be able to practice one of the world's most difficult dances at virtually all hours of the day and, in the Argentine tradition, deep into the night.

Of course, novices must first become "fluent" in the basics, Amarilla says, before attempting to tackle nuevo.

In addition to the emergence of new schools over the years, numerous guest instructors and performers have begun to crop up in the area, signaling Philadelphia's augmented status in tango circles. Like established powerhouses New York and San Francisco, Philadelphia is finally attracting "actual people from Argentina," in the words of 30-year-old dancer Josh Warner.

At a July 8 event at the Philadelphia Ethical Society, renowned Argentine electric tango band Otros Aires played to a sold-out crowd of roughly 200 people - with guests traveling in from New York, Boston, Baltimore, and Washington, D.C.

Kelly Ray and Lesley Mitchell, cofounders of Dance Philadelphia and arguably the godparents of the local tango scene, can remember the era of under-attended classes and single-digit milonga crowds in the early '90s. Among the city's foremost tango ambassadors since arriving here as a newly married couple, they say that dance in general, and tango in particular, is beginning to hit its stride both locally and nationally.

"There's an awareness of dance as a socially acceptable thing to do, especially among men," said Ray, citing the success of shows such as So You Think You Can Dance and Dancing With the Stars, which added Argentine tango to its list of dances last spring.

In the immediate term, the limping economy may also be aiding the local tango push. Wilson believes that dance can serve as an inexpensive "bright spot" for those who have fallen on hard times, providing them with a sense of camaraderie and optimism, "even though the music itself is kind of depressing." Amarilla and Klein charge $65 total for four 90-minute beginner sessions; Ray and Mitchell offer a $10-a-week "drop-in" option for those who don't want to commit to more than one lesson at a time.

For some, of course, the reasons for dancing are more visceral than fiscal.

"Look at the women," said Fred Semel, a smooth-moving, silver-haired attendee of the South Street art/dance studio. "If I smiled at them on the street, I'd probably get smacked in the teeth. But I can dance with them."

Indeed, despite some compelling anecdotal evidence to the contrary - see Klein and Amarilla, Mitchell and Ray - instructors insist that tango partnerships can, in fact, remain platonic. Some of the time.

"You're going to be chest-to-chest and cheek-to-cheek when you're dancing, and then you may never see this person again in your life," said Guillermo Elkouss, a Cherry Hill urologist and tango instructor who is, naturally, engaged to his dance partner, Vittoria Natale.

Elkouss and Natale helped spearhead a recent tango fund-raiser for Parkinson's disease - according to research from Washington University in St. Louis last year, tango classes can significantly aid the balance and mobility of Parkinson's sufferers.

The event was cosponsored by Ray and Mitchell, indicative of another growing trend: "Rival" instructors are pooling efforts - and listservs - to jointly promote a gathering.

In summertime, a community favorite is the outdoor lesson and milonga in Rittenhouse Square, held every other Saturday evening through the efforts of Dance Philadelphia and Tango Hop.

Scores of regulars arrive with the requisite fervor and footwear, hoping to coax passersby into stopping for a crash course on how not to crash into each other.

"We teach people how to avoid stepping on your partner's feet," Ray said. "Then you can start getting into some interesting stuff."

On one such occasion in late July, surrounded by break-dancers, picnickers, and a guy balancing an orange rubber ball on various limbs, the tango crowd injected manic instruction - "Meet a new person! Meet a new person!" Ray implored between songs - and somber violin strokes into the Rittenhouse blend.

Not to mention a few stumbles on the uneven surface.

"It's thoroughly dangerous," said Elinora Hunyadi, who's been taking intermediate classes with Amarilla and Klein for four months. "But you can blame your mistakes on the bricks."

The function serves its purpose, of course. Dozens of park-goers leave with sore feet and volumes of fliers, succumbing to the same temptation that convinced Klein, the local artist, to become Klein, the local artiste.

As darkness descends, an elderly couple linger to take in the action.

"I really should be doing this," the wife says, gazing at the husband intently, to ensure he knows that "I" almost certainly means "we."

It's a novel idea, really - an inspired inversion: marriage, then tango.