What we want from modern dance is courage and audacity.

The visionary choreographer Twyla Tharp, whose work reshaped the language of movement, once declared: “What we want from modern dance is courage and audacity.” In these few words, she summons not only the spirit of art but the very essence of human creation. For in courage and audacity lies the lifeblood of innovation—the will to break the old forms, to leap beyond comfort, and to breathe new meaning into existence. Tharp does not merely speak of dance; she speaks of life itself. For every age demands of its creators, its dreamers, and its souls the same daring: to step into the unknown and make it beautiful.

The meaning of her words reaches far beyond the stage. Modern dance, in its essence, was born from rebellion—the rejection of rigid tradition, the refusal to let the body be bound by the rules of classical form. It sought honesty over perfection, truth over grace, expression over obedience. When Tharp says we need courage, she calls for the bravery to be vulnerable—to move with truth even when the world mocks or misunderstands. When she demands audacity, she invokes the boldness to challenge norms, to stretch the limits of what art and the human spirit can express. For it is through fearless invention that art remains alive, and through audacity that the soul remembers its freedom.

The origin of this wisdom lies in Tharp’s own journey. She came of age in a time when dance was already transforming, yet she refused to simply follow that transformation—she led it further. Blending ballet with jazz, classical structure with chaos, she created a new rhythm of thought and motion. Critics often doubted her, audiences sometimes resisted her. But her courage was her compass. Through discipline and daring, she built a legacy that defied categorization. Her quote, then, is both declaration and reminder: art without courage becomes imitation; art without audacity becomes silence.

History offers many mirrors of this truth. Consider the great Martha Graham, the mother of modern dance. When she first unveiled her new techniques—angular, raw, filled with tension and emotion—many found them shocking. Her movements rejected the elegance of ballet for something primal, even uncomfortable. Yet in her courage to be different, she unveiled a new language of the human body—a language that spoke of pain, desire, and transcendence. Graham’s work, like Tharp’s words, teaches us that to create something true, one must be willing to risk ridicule, failure, even exile. For greatness is born not in safety, but in daring.

But Tharp’s quote also speaks beyond the realm of art—it speaks to every human endeavor. To live well is to dance with courage and audacity, whether one is a creator, a worker, or a seeker of wisdom. In a world that rewards conformity, it takes bravery to be authentic, to pursue one’s vision even when unseen. The dancer on stage faces the same struggle as the dreamer in life: to move without fear of judgment, to trust the rhythm within. To Tharp, the stage is a mirror of the soul, and the dance we perform each day must be one of bold honesty—for only then does it become truly alive.

Courage, as she implies, is not the absence of fear but the strength to move through it. Audacity is not arrogance, but the will to imagine what has never been seen. Together, they form the twin wings of creation. The cautious soul may survive, but it will never soar. The artist—or any person—who lives timidly may never fall, but neither will they rise. To embody Tharp’s teaching is to take the leap even when the ground below is uncertain—to trust that the act of creation itself will bear you up.

The lesson is timeless: in every craft, in every life, courage and audacity are the forces that awaken greatness. If you are an artist, create boldly; if you are a thinker, question deeply; if you are simply a soul striving to live truly, do not let fear chain your steps. The world remembers not the imitators, but the inventors—the ones who dared to move differently. Let your life, then, be a dance of conviction: move forward with courage, and shape your rhythm with audacity.

And so, let these words of Twyla Tharp echo through all who seek to create, to lead, to live: that the beauty of life, like dance, is born not from perfection, but from the daring of the heart. Move courageously, for the world needs your motion; live audaciously, for the universe was made to be stirred. For in that sacred leap—between fear and flight—you will find not only art, but the truth of what it means to be human.