New York ? Imagine toilet paper stuck to your foot — for eternity.

That’s choreographer Paul Taylor’s idea of Dante’s hell, as presented in one of his dances, “Dante Variations.”

Or how about a man standing by a reclining woman, both utterly still?

That, too, is part of Taylor’s modern dance. But then, things do move — and fast, at times — in the works of the 74-year-old American considered one of world’s greatest living choreographers.

This year, he’s celebrating the 50th anniversary of his Paul Taylor Dance Company, whose 17 artists are touring all 50 states, starting with a two-week run at City Center earlier this month.

Taylor’s influences

Even now, decades after Taylor was a star with the Martha Graham Dance Company, her inspiration is still reflected in his work — a full-throttle display of emotion, from the desolate tones of “Last Look” to the off-the-wall whimsy of his “Offenbach Overtures.”

“I want to lift the audience to the miraculous in human nature. After all, we shouldn’t be here, with all the odds against us in nature. It’s kind of unusual and wonderful,” says Taylor, taking a long, leisurely puff from his cigarette as he sits in his office at his company’s studios in New York’s Soho neighborhood.

The window of his dance studio looks down on Broadway, awash in yellow — mostly a sea of honking cabs, squealing trucks and wailing sirens. He calls it “the disagreeable evil” of urban life. From here, he strolls around the corner to a rehearsal space, taking in the sights and sounds of the city and turning them into his art — no moralizing or taking sides.

Choreographer Paul Taylor, sitting right, watches as members of his dance company rehearse Feb. 21 at his studio in New York. This year Taylor is celebrating the 50th anniversary of his Paul Taylor Dance Company with a tour of all 50 states, starting with a two-week run at Manhattan's City Center through the end of March.

“I’m a watcher,” says the choreographer. “I’d like to be a reporter. I see things on the street — details for dances.”

And he absorbs the news of the world. “Promethean Fire” has been interpreted as Taylor’s response to the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001.

He spends the next few hours sitting off to the side, on the rehearsal studio’s dance floor, watching his company get ready for the City Center opening. An easy smile spreads across the still handsome face of a man once called “the golden boy.” A cigarette lighter clicks. Smoke rises slowly past slicks of gray hair at Taylor’s temples.

And yet, in his checkered shirt and construction-worker boots, gum in mouth, Taylor looks as wholesome as the subject of a Norman Rockwell painting of rural America.

At one point during the rehearsal, the 6-foot-3-inch choreographer gets up to show a barefoot dancer how to lift up her leg so as to seem weightless. He raises his foot elegantly, his heavy leather boot sailing into the air, checkered shirt-clad arm mirroring the lightness.

“I don’t exercise. I avoid extremely healthy things. And I don’t carry bottles of water,” says a bemused Taylor, who is surrounded by dancers chugging water every time they step off the floor, sweating and breathing hard after the strenuous moves he created for a piece with a hard, syncopated beat.

“Health consciousness has gotten out of hand. We’re only here for a little while. Why should we torture ourselves?” he deadpans.

The dancers end their rehearsal, bowing to a make-believe audience and applauding each other.

Paul Taylor gives members of his dance company instructions during a rehearsal at his New York studio.

Taylor’s hands remain still, folded in front of a pensive face just days before his company’s 50th anniversary gala, on March 2.

Mastering his craft

It’s been more than a half century since Taylor arrived in New York from Syracuse University, where he majored in art and excelled in swimming. Then, in his early 20s, he discovered dance — very late for entering the profession.

“But I was able to find out what I really enjoy doing,” he says.

He was good enough to be accepted at The Juilliard School. In 1953, Taylor made his dancing debut with the Merce Cunningham Dance Company, then became a star with Martha Graham, while dipping into his own creativity as choreographer.

“You have to take a lot of risks,” says Taylor, who took the plunge in 1954 and formed his own small company.

He was never after fame, he says. “People who want to be famous make me crazy.”

Still, he’s become a star around the world. His company has toured in more than 60 countries, spreading the idiom of modern dance in a witty, sexy and often profound and surprising style.

“He is a master craftsman,” said Linda Kent, a Taylor principal dancer from 1975 to 1989 who now teaches at Juilliard. “His works have great form and wonderful physicality and he knows how to move bodies around a stage. It’s dance that’s food for the eye. But there’s always some kind of stab to the heart.”