Cherie has some interesting pictures of what people do with the open-side hand.
Of course there are problems we all have to solve about how much pressure to give with this hand, and when. It's not easy to judge, especially when that arm aches from the day's work already. I know I don't always get it right; sometimes I'm too stiff, sometimes wobbly. A lot can go wrong with this simple thing.
But let's assume for a moment that we can manage a gentle, equal and opposite springiness, so that I can follow well and you can lead well.
Given that, I don't mind what you want to do as long as:
- You don't hold my hand above my head, so it hangs from yours like a drunk in a doss house. (My shoulder level's better, but I can cope with as high as my ear).
- You don't forcibly twist the palm of my hand outwards or upwards. It hurts. I work behind a screen all day, I do this blogging stuff in my spare time, and now you're adding to the damage. Please let me keep my wrist straight.
- You don't do anything ostentatiously affected that makes you look like the matador and me look like the cloak.
So there's no way I'm risking a No. It's not painful enough to sacrifice a good dance, although I may well regret it the next morning. And I'm not so good a dancer that I can afford to protest at a practice that has the explicit personal endorsement of the people who've seen fit to endorse this one. (I doubt these deities do or did it quite so much when they weren't posing; but it's visually distinctive and inspires imitation. A pose is ok; four minutes is too much).
But this is my blog, so I can start a rumour that it might just have its downside in a non-professional context.
Ooooh, controversial. Jump in the comments with your views. If you sometimes do the Flying Teapot, please explain why you chose it, or who taught it to you, and what they said; the comments are much more interesting if your views differ from mine. I'm willing to concede on the looks point. Pain is a fact, and so are my own physical limitations, but one woman's affectation is another woman's elegance, one woman's pegged-out washing another's artfully-draped haute couture.