Dancing, in all its various forms, is an elusive and highly valued skill–it’s the Navy SEALs of talents. I don’t know how you obtain it, nor do I understand fully where it comes from. Somewhere in your hips, I’ve been told. So as far as dancing goes, I’ve only done it on occasion (and by “occasion” I mean at weddings or ’80s Night when a bodacious song comes on). Even more mysterious, however, is contemporary dance. The professional stuff. It’s dance with meaning; dance as performance art; dance that manages to occasionally be both beautiful and bad ass.

A few weeks ago, Abby took to me to the Dance Alloy annual fundraiser show. I stuck close to her, listening to her explain the various routines to me (she knows her stuff), picking up on the symbolism behind the dancers’ movements, and eating my fair share of brie and flatbread. I love being involved in the arts because it means a near endless supply of brie at fundraisers. The highlight of the evening (for this dork, right here) was a dance constructed around a lecture by Carl Sagan mixed with Radiohead music. The solitary dancer worked his way around the stage while an analog overhead projector drew out equations on the white stage wall. If this was what contemporary dance could be, and not that laughably pretentious stuff I had seen mocked in a number of Woody Allen films, then I was on board.

The choreographer who unleashed Sagan, we’ve determined, seems hell-bent on making contemporary dance awesome for everyone. That’s not such a bad thing. Recently Abby and I went to a performance by The Pillow Project, a monthly themed and improvised dance show that just so happens to take place on the second floor of a warehouse on the outskirts of the city. If this were a comic book, various goons and villains would be hiding out here, stripping cars of parts and laying all of their machine guns on a long banquet table. When I dropped Abby off at the lone, steel door to the dance space (it was raining and I’m a gentleman), I wasn’t sure if I was leaving her off at a fabulous, found artspace or the opening scene of “Darkman.” Hint: Darkman never had moves like this.

The scene at the Pillow was hip and hodgepodge. When you enter, you fill out a marketing survey by scratching in a hashmark on a chalk board (Have you been here before? Yes/no). There’s a wall of anonymous notes a la “Post Secret.” The upstairs dance space overlooks Construction Junction, a non-profit Goodwill-via-Home Depot warehouse. The hardwood floors and chalkboard walls are warmly lit by a mixture of theater lights and living room lamps. Couches are lounging; old typewriters are scattered about; and there’s a bar made of doors, chandeliers, film canisters, and other found objects. Every couple of seconds brought about another “look at that thing!” moment.

When we got to the Pillow Project, they were in the middle of a long string of improvised dance scenes. Similar to the game Freeze in theater improv, one dancer would groove along to the jamming drum band until another dancer came in and took over. The band was great; they were like the drum section of Rusted Root without all that poppy “Weekend At Bernies” nonsense. The dancer would look over at the musicians, they’d take cues from each other, and the rhythms would change or fade. Improvisation, especially when viewed as an outside unaware of the hidden techniques, is awe inspiring.

The main reason we attended were the choreographed dances, all of which were based off of Quentin Tarantino films, David Fincher’s “Fight Club,” and a medley of Beastie Boys songs. Seriously, what guy wouldn’t want to check that out?

I’ll just preface anything else I’ll say on the matter by stating that every dance was incredible. Each one captured the mood and themes of the music and featured some technical trickery that only added to the mix. The Tarantino stuff was a collage of 60s throwback trailers, a dance from “Death Proof” and a piece set to the Nancy Sinatra song from “Kill Bill.” There were projected explosions, toy guns, and red animated gel lights for blood. That, combined with sitting on a couch with the girl I love, a cup of coffee, and a homemade tart, made the evening feel surreally awesome.

Then there was “Fight Club,” a dance that served as a representation of the entire film, featuring only two performers, a projector, and the Dust Brothers soundtrack. The lead male played both Ed Norton and Brad Pitt, dancing between different projected frames as he fought himself. Ikea catalogue pieces popped up on the walls. Occasionally you caught a burn mark where the reels of the film were changing over. The most stunning part of the dance, however, was when the dancer strolled over to a sink and mirror and shaved his head on stage… you know, to be more like Brad Pitt. It was at that point when I leaned over to Abby and whispered “This is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Following the intermission, allowing the audience to regroup, the dance team returned with a Beastie Boys number. Free of projectors and movie tie-ins, they just worked the stage in huge bursts, making the most of the funky instrumental music. Shortly after they finished, and folks began mingling, we made our way out of this strange land of antiques and dance and into the rainy reality of Pittsburgh.

I can confidently report that I not only appreciate contemporary dance (I’m pretty sure I always have; the “idea” of it, from a distance), but that I honestly enjoy it. The Pillow Project performs in their space on the second Saturday of every month, now through August. I can’t recommend it enough. Watching this show in a warehouse on the outskirts of town didn’t do much to solve the riddle of dance for me, but it did enhance the mystery of it… and a little bit of mystery never hurt anyone. Unless, you know, that mystery involves a murder.