Dance, happiness and physical release: the role of a teacher

A few days ago my friend Shelley blogged about the responsibilities of teaching. It was an excellent post, as per her usual standard. In particular, she raises the issue of acknowledging the power of a teacher to affect how students feel about themselves, and the responsibility of a teacher to empower students to change and grow in way which is personal to them.

I agree whole-heartedly. There is more to teaching than technical skill, social interaction and the challenges of education, as if those weren't enough! Teaching is also about respecting the intelligence of every individual, and giving them the opportunity and space to explore on their own. I believe a teacher should encourage people to feel a sense of satisfaction, achievement and ownership of new ideas, and develop understanding that is unique to them, as it truly must be. 

In learning new patterns of physical movement, this is especially important because of the deep connection between psychology and movement, and the way in which emotional states are reflected by our physical habits and muscular tensions. The image below is a fascinating visualisation of this. Researchers asked participants in a study to draw where they experience emotions on a diagram of the body. The image is the result of an overlay of all the sketches; it's clear people experience emotion all over the body. 
Emotion_study
The idea is also discussed in a book I'm currently reading, called "The Body Reveals", by Ron Kurtz and Hector Prestera. The authors take the premise that our bodies reveal and communicate our personhood and past experiences, and that freeing energy to flow through the body in a balanced manner frees us to think and feel spontaneously, without fear or anguish. In dance, the possibility for freeing ourselves from learnt, or self-imposed, physical limits is indeed a wonderful and beautiful thing. 

This is connected with the notion of "chit" in yoga (Sanscrit), meaning "truth". The translation for "chit" is literally "what is", meaning what is, including all the limitations and imperfections, and perhaps particularly these, since they are watermarks of who we are. In Anusara yoga, it is the auspicious teacher inside us, and outside of us, who takes the forms of "sanchitananda", meaning truth, consciousness and bliss. Through awareness, consciousness and acceptance of truth, in our own bodies and the world around us, we can achieve bliss. Our physical limits are intimately connected with this truth, and are fertile ground for personal exploration.

For teachers, we should be aware that requesting students to move in new ways is not just asking them to move. It is also potentially asking them to come face to face with emotional blocks that they may have held onto for years. Addressing these blocks requires compassion, tenderness, respect and gentle encouragement - an awareness of the power we have as teachers, and our responsibility to open the door to honest, personal exploration. In my experience, undoing these blocks is a slow process that involves patience and persistence, as well as structured exercises like yoga, a proper diet, active interventions like massage, exercises to increase body awareness and change habits of posture and movement, such as somatic re-education (e.g. Feldenkrais, gyrokinesis), as well as dance, especially playful or spontaneous dance that encourages exploration and growth. All of this work may not be possible purely within the confines of a weekly dance class, but the objective is remain aware of the potential for such growth, and to facilitate it.

With that thought, I'll finish with an edited abstract from "The Body Reveals". I couldn't have said it better myself.

"The pattern of muscle tensions in the blocks affects movement, posture, growth, and therefore structure. In a healthy, open person, feeling flows easily into expression. In a person with emotional blocks, chronic muscle tension interrupts this flow. For example, in blocking the expression of sadness, we tense the jaw, chest, stomach, diaphragm, and some muscles of the throat and face — all the areas which move spontaneously when the feeling is allowed its natural outlets. If the sadness is deep and long-standing, and the blocking continues, the tension will become habit and the capacity to express, frozen. With the growth of habit, awareness dims. The feeling itself may slip from consciousness, and situations which arouse it may be avoided. It is this habit and lack of awareness we are calling a block.

The process of undoing blocks involves arduous, sometimes painful, persistent work. The insidious, interlocking nature of fearful attitudes, habitual muscle tensions, blocked feelings and restricted awareness makes any change both difficult and delicate. Once the process of change is begun, however, momentum in the direction of growth can increase to the point where efforts that once seemed impossible become automatic. For most people, there's a way out if only they will take it.

Deep change is a true expansion of the self, a removal of self-imposed limits — restrictions grounded in irrational fears and childhood defeats. These fears must be contacted and re-experienced. The attitudes to which they give life must be brought to awareness, then examined, and the whole process enlightened with persistent self-discovery. By pursuing growth, by going deeper and deeper into our feelings, by seeking within ourselves the source and meaning of our lives, we can only come to find an unending spiritual reservoir — ineffable, mysterious, and yet the surest, truest ground of our existence."
Tagged Stagecraft / psychology Teaching

Sore hip in the standing leg during hip drops

I was teaching hip lifts to a group of bright, enthusiastic college kids the other day, and someone asked a great question about why the hip of their standing leg hurt while practising. I remember wondering the same thing after a particularly gruelling workshop with Mira Betz many years ago. It was agony!

I've got a theory about this: it's a weak gluteus medius muscle on the standing side. If the following explanation is too technical, just practice with Suhaila Salimpour's Beginners Fitness Fusion Buns, or the classic glutes section from Jane Fonda's Beginner's Workout video, and see if it helps. I've included a youTube link at the end of this post so we can all share :)

But back to those hips. There's a lot of work being done by the standing leg in a hip drop, particularly if the movement is being initiated by a combination of the psoas plus back muscles, the obliques or glutes, rather than pushing off the floor with the foot on the working side. Almost all the weight is in the standing leg. If we "sit" into the hip on the standing leg, the result is a slight inward rotation of the thigh bone in the hip socket on that leg. Give it a try to see what I mean. The "sitting" position results if there is no muscular contraction to stop the working hip in a hip drop. The working hip simply continues its journey down and inward, and ends with a slight sideways movement away from the working hip, which is stopped by stress in the connective tissue and ligaments. Not only does this look uncontrolled, it's bad technique and can cause damage.

The problem is, once many students find out that this is bad technique, they try to stop the hip before it comes into sitting position by contracting the muscles inside the hip. The muscle in the hip are designed, among other things, to externally rotate the hip. The contraction works because the "sitting" position requires internal rotation of the hip. I'm beginning to believe that many beginner bellydancers, once they stop sitting, clench inside their hips this way because they habitually clench their gluteus maximus and hip muscles in their everyday posture (many people do - that's a separate post). Their brain has learnt a pattern of firing the neurons for the muscles inside the hip, and not firing the gluteus medius. 

However, it's really the gluteus medius that should be doing the work of stabilising the pelvis and lower leg for the standing leg. That's one of its two key purposes. This is obvious when you consider how we walk and run. A weakness in the gluetus medius results in Trendelenburg Gait, in which the opposite hip drops when standing on one leg, as in the picture below. 

32-weak_gluteus_medius5

A dropped hip while standing on one leg. Hmmmmm, sound familiar? To test how your brain fires those muscles, watch to see if your hips stay absolutely level while you walk. People with a weak gluteus medius have a slight sway or tilt to their walk, which might look sexy, but actually reflects weakness. They also often have trouble balancing on one leg, because there is minimal stabilisation for the pelvis. 

A weak gluteus medius really does need correction, not only for prettier hip drops, but also to avoid knee and ankle injuries. So strengthen those buns! Just don't forget to relax them when you're standing on both feet.

Tagged Anatomy

Aching lower back in bellydance

When I first started bellydancing, I used to get a really sore lower back when I did a lot of mayas. Like my back was screaming at me, "What the hell are you doing? Get me outta here!". It was so painful, I hate to think of what I put my back through now. But I was enthusiastic, and I loved those mayas so much that I kept at it, trying to make sure I went directly sideways just like I was taught. Well, going directly sideways is good, but it's even better if you know the muscle you're trying to engage so that you can strengthen, and work with it, consciously.

Later, this all began to tie up with my yoga practice. For the longest time I had no idea what my yoga teachers were talking about when they said to "pull in the lower belly". I thought they meant to pull in my lower rectus abdominus, the muscle that runs down the front of your stomach. I thought it was a glorified yogic pelvic tuck. So my pelvic tucks improved but my posture didn't. When I found out about the transverse abdominus I had one of those "Eureka!" moments that had me on a high for months, but I still didn't know how to strengthen it. That was years ago.

Recently, a good friend of mine has had trouble with her back, and this has got me thinking about it again. Today I found this fantastic explanation of how to find and strengthen the transverse abdominus muscle (and BTW the guy who made this video, Jonathan Fitzgerald, is a hero of mine - I heartily recommend all his teachings). It's so good, and sooooo important - I just had to share. Here for your enjoyment. May your backs be ever healthy and strong.

Tagged Anatomy

The psoas and why bellydancing makes us happy

This is a technical, but fascinating possibility. Everyone knows the psoas is crucial in bellydance. The psoas is one of our main flexors in the body (a flexor brings one body part closer to another body part). The main role of the psoas is to bring the legs closer to the chest so we can walk. But think about flexion as it relates to the nervous system - through our fear response! Like all animals, when startled we automatically react/flex including the psoas (that's true).

Constant stress causes constant tension/flexion, as we all know when our shoulders ache. So when you relax and contract and dance with the psoas, you are directly telling your brain: "All is well here, there is nothing to be afraid of, relax and be happy".

Which I think is a blooming good scientific reason for why we love bellydancing so much.

Psoas

Tagged Anatomy

The rift between Turkish and Egyptian Oriental dance

I have big news to announce! I've recently been talking with Artemis Mourat, winner of a Lifetime Achievement Award, one of the world’s leading experts on Turkish bellydance, and author of part of the introduction to the Tribal Bible. She's a living legend in the American dance community, and I'm very, very, excited to let you know that she will be coming to Edinburgh on 16-18th September 2011! 

What a rare, fabulous opportunity for us to study with this wonderful teacher! Needless to say, I'm over the moon. During our chats, I invited Artemis to pen a few words to explain a little about Turkish dance from her perspective. She kindly agreed, and her comment follows below.

With Artemis' permission and input, I have also excerpted and edited some text from her excellent article on Turkish Dance, American Cabaret and Vintage Orientale, focusing on the competition, and she has called it a rift, between the Egyptian and Turkish styles. I've also supplemented it with some vintage videos. It makes this post longer than usual, but a really worthwhile read. So make a cup of tea, sit back and enjoy!

I hope the excerpt whets your appetite to read more, and I heartily recommend the full article. It makes fascinating reading on the history of the Turkish and Vintage Orientale dance styles in America, and can be found here. But first, a comment from Artemis....

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Well done Tamsyn on your fairminded and intelligent commentaries on Turkish dance. Turkish Oriental dance is greatly misunderstood. This is the dance that was born from the Romany dances, the Egyptian and Arabic oriental dances from the countries formerly occupied by the Ottomans, the court dances of the Empire and the Europeanized theaters of Istanbul from the early 20th century. It is a legitimate branch of the Oriental dance tree with a history that is at least 1000 years old.

Vintage Orientale, which is what people often call "American Cabaret" style, was an amalgamation of the Pan Arabic oriental dances, plus the Turkish Oriental dance that was done in the night clubs of the United States and this was fused with American showpersonship (can't quite bring myself to say showMANship when referring to this, sorry). This too is a legitimate but much newer branch of our dance tree.

Tribal dance, and all the eventual offshoots that came from this artform, have at their early roots, Vintage Orientale. Isn't it wonderful to see how these dances are all related and intertwined? They should all be respected and they all have their rightful place. 

If anybody is interested in more information, I have a long article on my site on Turkish style belly dance and the dance that many folks call; "American Cabaret" but I prefer to call "Vintage Orientale". In the meantime, I am really looking forward to coming to teach for you in Edinburgh and elsewhere in the UK in the fall.

Artemis
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Adapted extract: The rift between Turkish and Egyptian Oriental dance

There is an unavoidable drift in styles of Oriental dance every one or two decades because dance is an ever changing, ever evolving art form. So, when people claim to be Egyptian style dancers, the only way to predict how they dance is by knowing where they fit in the continuum. Did they learn in the 70s, the 80s or the 90s and from whom? Did they learn in the United States, in Europe or in Cairo? The point is that no one style is superior or inferior within the Egyptian Oriental dance lineage. This should be obvious but what is less obvious to some people is that no one style is superior or inferior when comparing dance styles from different countries, including Turkey, Lebanon and America.

Turkish Oriental dance is similar but less refined than its Egyptian sister dance form. It is less elegant but not less articulate. What it lacks in composure and predictability, it makes up for with spontaneity and passion. Both styles are expressive, playful and sometimes introspective. The Turkish dance is assertive, passionate and sometimes even indifferent. It is far more energetic and sometimes has a bouncing or hopping aspect to it. 

Anahid Sofian, a well known Armenian woman, describes its appeal: "The steps are in the music and the music shapes the dance". Artemis explains that for her, "The Turkish style appealed to my hyperactive nature. I liked feeling as if I was in flight. I remember how painful it was when Egyptian style dancers told me that the dance I was doing was wrong. I knew that I was accurately reproducing the dances of my teachers. Converting to Egyptian style would have resulted in more acceptance for me and more opportunities for employment. It would have been the easier road, but I loved that [Turkish] style of dance. It was part of my ethnic heritage." Anahid adds that, "Ultimately, I see the oriental dancer as being individualistic and as not necessarily adhering to one style. She is a conduit for developing her own expression as long as it is still within the genre."  

Anahid describes prejudice against the Turkish style, but this has not always existed. She first learned in New York the early 1960s before the sharp delineation in style and massive popularity of the Egyptian style that dominates today. Her teachers were among the first Oriental dancers in America, who were immigrants from Turkey, Lebanon, Egypt, Syria, Armenia, Greece, Assyria, Iran, Morocco, Algeria and Iraq. Back then, Artemis continues, the dancers worked in the nightclubs in major cities, and had to be proficient in different dance styles in order to appeal to the diverse ethnic mix who frequented the nightclubs and restaurants. The patrons were right “off the boat” and the clubs were the one place where they could go and feel like they were in their home again, even for a few hours. It was the beginning of what is now correctly termed the Vintage Orientale style, and sometimes inappropriately called the American Cabaret style (or, even worse, abbreviated to the expression 'Am Cab', which sounds like a taxi company). Here's a rare video of Serena Wilson, including footage taken in the Egyptian Garden club, circa 1960.

Morocco [a legendary dancer in America] remembers in New York in the 1950s and 1960s, "The best dancers, regardless of their country of origin, were the ones who enjoyed working to all types of music...(and they)... integrated the much wider variety of movements from oriental dance's rich movement vocabulary into their dance...The movements are the movements ‑ it is the 'accent' and 'idiomatic expressions' that define what we would like to think of as different 'styles.'" They all danced with the same musicians so they had to be able to perform to the same music. All of the dancers played finger cymbals, regardless of where they were from, because that was the way it was for oriental dancers throughout the Middle East. Here's a clip of the legendary Nejla Ateş, who appeared in several Turkish and American films as an actress and dancer, in her performance from Son of Sinbad, 1955. Notice the ever-present finger cymbals.

Nevertheless the educated eye could tell who was from where. The Egyptians were more serious and used more controlled and complex, layered movements. They preferred using maqsum and did not want to do floorwork because it had been illegal in Egypt since 1954. They often danced barefoot. Morocco describes how: "The professional Levantines [Lebanese, Syrians] affected a more 'distant' attitude, thought the Egyptians were 'too sexy' and often wore heels that affected their hip work, possibly adversely... The Turks were mostly out there acting like they were having a heck of a good time: bouncier, peppier movements, hitting the beats more obviously, their fast music had fewer rhythmic changes, but their slow çiftetellis were really slow, heavier and sexier than the Arabic dancers' taxims. There was more playfulness, joking interaction with the audience in the fast parts...There were hand gestures in the kar_ilama [Turkish 9/8 rhythm] that were specifically Turkish Romany (Gypsy). A few Turkish dancers, like Saliha Tekneci, were famous for their attitude. There was a haughtiness, a distance; it was almost challenging." 

The 'Modern Egyptian' dance did not appear in the States until the very late 1960s and early 1970s. Arabesque Magazine and Habibi Magazine were publishing academic papers about other dance forms and differences in style. More dancers and dance ethnologists started going to Egypt. A new form emerged and Egyptian elements (or what people thought were Egyptian elements) were rapidly being incorporated into the newly named "Egyptian style of Oriental dance". Here's an example of the new fusion that was taking place (Tenisha, 1978).

At this time the original night clubs were closing one by one, replaced by more restaurants and entertainment establishments divided by ethnicity. Middle Eastern food was becoming more mainstream. Many Americans joined the clientele and they could not tell one “foreign” dance style from another. The Turkish style and Vintage Orientale was slipping into obscurity and it's easy to see why. If you compare how many Arabic countries there are in the world to Greece and Turkey, you can see that overall, there would be more Arabic establishments. The Egyptian style of dance began to dominate in most of the places and eventually this was true even in many of the Greek and Turkish establishments. Eventually, many patrons (most of whom were no longer right off the boat) accepted that the Arabic [Egyptian] style as the “correct” or only style. 

Vintage Orientale lost its foothold and was nearly eclipsed by the modern Egyptian style due to the latter's popularity and the rather misinformed opinions of some loyal Egyptian style aficionados. In the last 25 years, I have heard frequent and blatantly ignorant statements such as: "The Turkish style is not REAL Oriental dance. The only real Oriental dance comes from Cairo...I don't do that 'dirty' Turkish dance...Nobody does that style anymore...There are only two styles of Oriental dance - the Egyptian style and everybody else who is wrong." Of course, there were and are wonderful performers in Turkey, but following an unfortunate trend in Turkey beginning in the 1980s, when the clubs started hiring very young women who were not serious dancers but who were quite beautiful, one has to wade through the mediocre in order to find the skilled representers of the style. 

Now many new students are only exposed to Egyptian styling, so floor work, veil dancing to an entire song, finger cymbal playing and the high energy of Turkish style are casualties of the trend. This is a loss since these aspects can be powerful, spirited and extremely musical, as is clear in this video taken of a soloist with Bal Anat in the 1970s. The new students are partaking of only one slice of a much larger and legitimate pie. This pie encompasses Turkish style, Vintage Orientale, Lebanese Oriental style, Egyptian Oriental style and now American Tribal style. However, many students thought, and still think, that the Egyptian slice is the entire pie. 

Today, many American and European dancers call what they are doing 'Egyptian' when it is neither strictly Egyptian nor American Cabaret. It is Pan Arabic styling, mixing Egyptian styling of different eras with Lebanese styling, and adding other Arabic elements. A BIG source of the confusion is that Egyptian styling morphs every 10 - 20 years, and many people aren't aware of differences when they look for inspiration. But they call their dancing Egyptian and this if for many reasons...because their teachers told them that it is, or they are unclear about where their dance fits on the continuum of Egyptian eras, or they are not clear about the non-Egyptian elements that they are fusing into their dance. It is fashionable and marketable to be 'Egyptian' and when you think about it, there are many Arabic countries and they all love Egyptian style as the grande dame, the source (with the exception of the Lebanese folks who are very loyal to their style). So the people of many Arabic countries are watching Egyptian dancers as their role models of Oriental dance. Another source of confusion is that the dancing of Ibrahim "Bobbie" Farrah, who was a Lebanese man and a huge influence in his time and even now, is called 'Egyptian' but he did Lebanese and Egyptian styling.

Despite this, Turkish style and Vintage Orientale are making a comeback. Kajira Djoumahna, who organises Tribal Fest, started out in Vintage Orientale before she converted to American Tribal Style, and has invited me to hold workshops on Turkish and Rromany style dance at Tribal Fest for the past three years. If you can get her to do a cabaret show, you are in for a treat. Rhea of Greece, and her daughters Melina and Piper, are all very talented and unique Vintage Orientale dancers, and Piper has her own nomenclature and certification program. Ansuya of the Bellydance Superstars was a superb example of Vintage Orientale and has branched out and created her own style from there. Didem is a Turkish style dancer trained by the famous Turkish performer Sema Yildiz, and is at her best when she does Romany (Gypsy); this is her culture. Didem is very young and talented, but her dancing is still developing as she invents new things for television appearances five times a week. And of course, the best dancers from Turkey (from the 60s to the present) were and are: Tulay Karaca (who is a zill queen), Nesrin Topkapi, and Sema Yildez. 

Anahid also sees a resurgence of interest. "There was a break in the lineage, so I was alarmed," she said, [but] "at the present time some dancers are getting tired of the Egyptian style because it has been out there for so long. They want to do something different and they want to see something different. When the students come and experience the Turkish, they connect with it and they can see its appeal, the power and beauty in it and what is wonderful about it. They often say they are glad to discover this, that it is closer to their heart, that they feel they are 'home'. There is a future for the Turkish style. It is back."

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About Artemis Mourat

Artemis has been dancing, teaching and researching dance history for her entire adult life, including extensive travel to 33 countries. She is of Greek and Turkish descent, and fuses her love of these cultures with strong academic knowledge and excellent dance technique. She brings her spirited and articulate technique to workshops which include information on the history and cultures that generate the dances she teaches. Artemis is listed in the International Dance Council (CID) Who’s Who of Dance. Her photograph can be found in the International Encyclopedia of Dance under the listing for “danse du ventre” (which translates to “Belly dance”). She has won three Ethnic Dancer of the Year Awards and a Lifetime Achievment Award.
Tagged American cabaret Edinburgh Egyptian History Turkish

Dance fashions and sword technique

It's funny how fashions for bellydance technique and style change over time. My first bellydance teacher, Leila, in San Francisco in the early 1980s, could do a Turkish drop in slow motion and come back to sitting, all while keeping a sword flawlessly balanced on her head. It was an amazing trick; so amazing, in fact, that in light of my previously not being able to find a video of another dancer doing this, it sounds a bit fantastical. Surely all the bellydancing skills that were popular in the past are still performed today? Darned if I could find an example.

So imagine my delight when finally I discovered a vintage video of a bellydancer performing just this spectacle! Even better, she does another trick I remember Leila doing to wow audiences: spinning with a sword balanced on her head, and allowing the sword to continue spinning after she, herself, has stopped. It's a small part at the beginning of a longer video that's more seductive than I would like towards the end, but the sword really is worth it for me, as is the retro video straight out of the 1970s!

I find it fascinating that sword performances have changed and we don't see these particular moves much anymore. Performers today are every bit as talented as dancers then, but the fashion for sword seems to be more warrior-like, and draws attention to using the sword to create beautiful poses and shapes. Perhaps it reflects modern female empowerment that we choose to dance in this way, or simply fits better with more upbeat music, which seems to be popular too. Then again, it might just be that I wasn't exposed to the full variety of sword dancing when I was young. At any rate, here are some good examples of the modern style, including one from the remarkably talented Isidora Bushkovski (many more great videos of her sword performances if you check youTube).

It's an incredible feat to dance to upbeat music with a sword, and takes great strength to wield some swords with extensions, so I admire the level of skill in this. It's different to what I remember from the 1980s though, where sword was frequently part of a longer set by a solo artist, and often accompanied a slow taxim. I presume it made the slow, seductive dance more exciting and dramatic for general audiences who, for the most part, loved to be thrilled with drum solos. Happily, the mesmerising and trance-like taxim sword tradition lives on too; here's Elizabeth Strong doing an excellent rendition. May the diversity and creative exploration ever blossom.

Tagged American cabaret History Props Tribal fusion

Project Belly Dance? I'd rather see them smile

It's not all the time a story in the media gets followed up, so I was intrigued when I spotted the follow-on trailer for the "search for America's Next Top Belly Dancer", the subject of one of my posts about 2 months ago. The tagline also caused me to raise an eyebrow: "Project Belly Dance: A reality TV show". 

Wait a minute, a reality TV show? I don't remember that being the focus. I like reality TV about as much as I like brussel sprouts, and I thought this project was about discovering talent and giving deserving dancers a leg-up in a professional career. Those two little words make me suspect it's about promoting Cheeky Girls videos (the winner gets to release an instructional DVD with the label) and broadcasting dancers' idiosyncrasies, as well as their talent, for entertainment value. 

Michelle Joyce, one of the organisers, also owns Cheeky Girls Productions. But I've always been a big fan of Michelle and I believe she is trying to generate the same opportunity for others that she created for herself. After all, she launched Cheeky Girls in 2007 on the back of the first By Dancers for Dancers DVD, which was "a collaborative project by local dancers who had decided to stop waiting for someone else to 'discover them' and took matters into their own hands." 

But making a reality TV show out of a bellydance competition doesn't sit easily with me. It's hard for anyone to come across well, if only because some editors believe the most interesting scenes are ones where people experience emotional extremes. Whether dancers display elation, tears, misplaced confidence or disappointment, it makes good viewing.

Unfortunately, the new trailer doesn't assuage my concerns. I twitched at the beginning when a competitor said winning would, "Reaffirm that my work does mean something, and not just to me". No, no, I thought. Have confidence and dance for yourself. Dance because you love it and it brings visible joy to your audience! At one point two ladies are the verge of tears as they are being interviewed. My heart skipped. Who wants to be videocast breaking down under pressure? 

So I wasn't keen on the new Project Belly Dance trailer. And while I think asking participants to teach a demo workshop is a great idea, I'm not clear on the reasoning behind only giving them 2.5 minutes to perform. It doesn't allow much time for demonstrating flexibility in executing both a high-energy, upbeat number and intimate, heavy movements. The lack of an audience, or even a drummer, with whom the dancers can interact also seems a strange choice. It misses the magic for me, and randomly assigning participants to groups, giving them 2 hours to create a group choreography, seems like a task better suited to performers who wants to work with a big stage production, not teach. If they want to see how the girls "improvise and perform under pressure", I'd rather they ask them to improvise with a live band. That would be fun!

Personally, I like to see dancers feeling good about themselves. I know it's not really a fair comparison, but I contrast the interviews in the new Project Belly Dance trailer with the interviews at the start of Sera Solstice's Tribal Fusion Foundations trailer. The ladies in the Foundation video talk about how bellydance makes them feel self-confident and fabulous. Watch their eyes and smiles light up as they relate how it's good for the mind, the spirit and the soul. How dancing is an avenue for communication. Now that's great bellydance TV! Can we have more of that please?

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An addendum: Since this post, it's been my pleasure to speak with Michelle about this Project, and I'm pleased to pass on what I've learned. My confidence is restored: Michelle is editing the show, and as someone who is passionate about what they do, and cares about the people she's working with, I know she can be trusted to represent dancers well. This is not something which, after working in communications for ten years, I would necessarily believe about a hired editorial hand (hence comments in the original post), but I have great respect for Michelle so it's reassuring to know she's in control. 

Almost all of the participants have sent in emails saying the competition was one of the best experiences of their belly dancing lives. In other words, it's all about lifting dancers up. In fact, though Michelle was too modest to mention it, it turns out she's losing money due to the production costs and the fact that it's being aired for free. So this project is definitely being pursued purely for love of the dance, not profit, and that deserves recognition. 

Regarding the nuts and bolts, there are ten tasks in the competition; information was clipped due to time constraints.

Based on my own experience of producing videos, editing shorts is a tough challenge. Like performances, just over two minutes to express the detail of what something is about, touch on personal stories, plus raise excitement and expectations about the next instalment, is hard. Constraints apply to soundbites as well as content. Emotional scenes in the trailer captured the strength of feeling expressed in response to the question, "What does belly dance mean to you?". Some of the participants have overcome personal obstacles in order to continue performing, including (and this might come as no surprise) family disapproval. So we should applaud their bravery and strength of character, rather than focus on their fleeting context-free expression.

I may have been disappointed in the reality TV aspect of the show, but safe to say this skeptic stands happily better informed. I'm looking forward to the full story, and confident that 'no belly dancers were harmed by the making of this series'. Kindly pass those brussel sprouts...

The first episode will be aired on 3 January 2011, and in the meantime, a forum has been set up here on the Project website to focus feedback in one place. I recommend checking it out.

Tagged American cabaret

Character dancing and the search for style

Me_russian
Every dancer looks inside themselves to find the spark that transforms a dance from being one of mere movement into one of human expression. It is nothing less than the achievement of finding oneself, and along with it, a clear personal style such that even if performing the same movements as another dancer, the expression is uniquely identifiable as our own.

On the one hand it's easy: we can't help but be ourselves, both on stage and off. But in the pursuit of perfection (and many dancers I know are driven to this), it's no simple task. First we have to train our bodies to move in a way that is capable of expressing the powerful and unrestricted dances we perform in our heads, and heaven knows it can be difficult to develop the capability in our brain and muscles to coordinate the desired execution! Then we have to practice, practice, practice in order to execute movements with grace and ease without the need to do much thinking, freeing our minds to focus on emotion and stagecraft when dancing for an audience. We have to overcome psychological hurdles, including stage fright and more deeply rooted fears about being judged and found wanting. And not least we have to know ourselves, and become aware of how we interact and communicate with the world, working with this raw material to mould a stage persona and style that truly embraces who we are.

The last of these can be very difficult indeed. I have a very talented friend who says the pressure of committing to a solo choreographed performance, of putting an stake in the ground and saying, "This is me!", has made her shy away from formal performances and stick to situations where off the cuff dances won't pin her down. Despite her remarkable skill and experience, she's aware that she's missing a deeper sense of self-expression, and is working on developing it by learning different styles of bellydance, seeing how they feel in her body.  

It seems a good way to go. I'm working along similar lines, but much as I love prototypical bellydance, I've started harnessing choreography as a playground to experiment with new ways of moving, as well as scaffolding improvisation and practicing new steps and combinations that I want to improve upon. I'm embracing fusion in the name of exploring my dancing self, borrowing from my past and granting myself permission to 'get it wrong' or do something as a crazy one-off just so long as I entertain my audience and enjoy myself along the way. 

Bless the wonderful bellydance community that they tolerate with good humour and encouragement the experiments that I foist on them at haflas! My latest attempts reflect the classical ballet and character dancing I studied when I was young. Wikipedia has a good description that fits my experience: character dancing is integral to classical ballet but not usually taught outside of Russia, with the occasional exception of the UK and Australia. I was lucky enough to learn from a Russian teacher in Sydney, a stunning woman who carried a big walking stick and would use it to hit our backsides as a signal to correct our posture. She was the one who taught me character dancing, with its stylised representation of traditional folk or national dance, commonly from Hungary, Russia, Poland, Italy and Spain. The clip below shows character practice at one of the top ballet schools in Russia, and includes one of the star prima ballerinas of today: Yulia Stepanova. My dance lessons were not unlike this video, albeit in simpler form, and I even recognise the music! 

At the time, I found character dancing liberating, fun, and as with all things balletic, challenging and beautiful. More to the point, an important element is allowing the dancer to display their individuality, and it is precisely that individual expression that I'm looking for in my bellydancing now. As well as this, fusing with something I loved so much when I was young feels like such a natural part of me that it's helping me overcome my insecurities and find my voice on stage. Instead of focusing on displaying great technique or novel moves, I'm intent on encouraging the audience to enjoy the music and mood as much as I do by showing them how much fun it is. Focusing on channeling the music, and enjoying myself, frees me from feeling like I have to dance "well" and I hope makes it a pleasure to watch. 

One aspect to my most recent performance made it extra special for me: I was dancing with the very same tambourine I had when I first learned character dancing, complete with ribbons from the 1970s, and doing a (very liberal) adaptation of the dance I used it for back then. The picture that leads this post is of me in my character costume back in those days. The dance I was adapting was the Tarantella, a folk dance from southern Italy performed with a tambourine (see the links for a more traditional, and very stylised balletic version). However, I would be dancing to Russian gypsy music, in honour of my old teacher. 

The experiment also tied in with what I'm learning currently. I've been getting into arabic rhythm and zill classes with Hilary Thacker, and have fallen in love with drumming on the tambourine. It's too early for me to drum and dance at the same time, but I felt like I wanted to incorporate some of my newfound musicality in my dance. So, without any research, and only two days of preparation time, I threw something together for the annual Revolution hafla. Happily, people seemed to have as much fun with it as I did. I even surprised a friend in the audience by asking her to cameo on the tambourine towards the end. Who says it's hard to find a good live drummer?

Tagged History Stagecraft / psychology

Olivia Kissel of Zafira: Intention, emotion and dance

(download)
Two herds of elephants face each other across the room. Slowly, heavily, they lift one foot, sending billows of phantom dust floating upwards as feet meet floor. Waves of energy reverberate through bodies and anticipation is palpable as trunks reach out inquisitively, lethargically towards the herd opposite. When they disentangle, the energy that is resonant as they mingle, heavy and deliberate, is replaced by a sense of poetic loss and joy.

Not this time, but one of Olivia Kissel's students has actually been moved to tears by a separation of the herds that we mimicked with our elephant walk (made famous by Heather Stants). Take this as testament to the power of her personality and teaching. Olivia has succeeded in imparting something intangible about the feeling of movement, emotion, the space around us, and our interaction with others. And it was something a mere exercise could not have conjured. 

For a day and a half our group were encouraged to express verbally how we interpret the difference between movement and dance, and experiment with the emotional intention of our musical interpretation, guided by how we, as a class, interpret the music and motion. We were encouraged to listen to each other with attention and respect, and value every opinion. We tried to be romantic or broken where gestures seemed inherently proud, and powerful in sections of serpentine flow. We listened deeply to the music, acted as witnesses to each other in pairs and as groups. Hugs were exchanged, friendships were formed, and we were empowered by our own creativity. 

A bond has been made over the past two days of my workshops with Olivia and the fabulous group of dancers that gathered in Brighton. I am amazed by the sense of community, something I suspect is also part attributable to the inspiring personality of the organiser, Hilde Cannoodt, who has attracted around her a group of intelligent, talented and dedicated dancers who value her expertise and leadership. Through Hilde, and the parade of amazing teachers and dancers she has brought to Brighton, these women have attained an impressive level of skill and artistic maturity.

Some new moves were shared too, and great practice exercises, particularly for pelvic tucks. I loved the snippets of choreography we mastered as a basis for our interpretive exercises, and only wish we had time to do more! But the greatest benefit was derived from taking the time to practice movements slowly, and experiment with subtleties of motion. I discovered a few places where I could improve my technique and play with emotional expression. This was aided by Olivia's dedication to giving each of us personal feedback, and delight in responding in great detail to any questions or comments we had, both inside and outside of class. 

In fact, one of the most incredible things about her was her willingness to open up her whole persona and expertise almost 'on-tap' for two days. Perhaps she was as inspired by our group as we were by her. She was enthusiastic in listening to us, and clearly loves sharing her knowledge and encouraging our personal growth. Like other dancers I hugely admire, beyond her skill, this makes her a great and inspirational teacher. Now if only we really could have kidnapped her, as jokingly suggested at the time for our goodbyes, we'd have it made!

Tagged Stagecraft / psychology Tribal fusion Workshops

Turkish belly dance and false stereotypes

If youTube is the barometer, I can see why people might mistakenly think that Turkish belly dance is a bit tawdry, but assuming this to be the whole truth is naive. I prefer to consider the sometimes less than pristine image of Turkish belly dance as an aberration unfortunately popularised by the internet, a few scantily clad dancers, and the desire of the masses for highly sexualised content.

I've been thinking about this recently after recommending a friend to an excellent performance and interview with a modern Greco-Turkish American dancer and circus performer called Melina, of Daughters of Rhea (one of the girls in my drum class is called Melina, hence how all this got started). Notably, it's not on youTube. So we don't go off subject, I've included the link at the end of this post; otherwise we're all in danger of being distracted by Melina's amazing prowess at balancing a sword on the point of a dagger held between her teeth, whilst doing floorwork (can you imagine!).

When I think of Turkish belly dance, I revert to 1983 when I first started learning to dance in San Francisco. I realise this is unlikely to be entirely accurate since American dancers learned technique from the immigrants of many countries (something that is is not to be sniffed at; places like Deerborn, Michigan probably have the largest Arabic population outside of the Middle East, with a good third of residents reported to be Arabic at the last census). Nevertheless, what I was taught bears a strong resemblance to performances of great Turkish bellydancers like Nesrin Topkapi. 

At the time I took my first classes, the American dance legend and expert musician Aida al Adawi, a protege of Jamila Salimpour, was performing in restaurants around San Francisco, up to five to seven nights a week for three 45 minute sets in one night, and teaching regular workshops around the USA. The dance I saw and experienced then was alive, free, imbued with dignity and soul, and very Turkish, much like what you see in this clip of Aida performing. In fact, it was so alive that for years I couldn't bring myself to study Egyptian dance because it felt unnaturally constrained in comparison to what I had experienced.

This is a far cry from what I see when I look up Turkish belly dance on youTube today. Didem, the top listed result, has talent and flexibility but lacks sensuality and passion; in short, the aspects that for me turn the movements into something special and poignant. Many of the videos of Turkish dancers on youTube portray show ponies in costumes (or lack of them) that would be better suited to Las Vegas showgirls, and have off-putting titles like 'hot sexy Turkish bellydance'. A good number are frankly in bad taste. I'd insert a video, but you can find them easily. Do these dancers grimace later when they see themselves performing in something akin to a translucent beaded bikini with a giant Santa cape instead of a veil? No wonder some people think Turkish belly dance is akin to prostitution!

The 'stripperesque' style of costuming aside, revealing costumes do not necessarily make for poor dancers (although I agree the two are often correlated). Watch famous Turkish dancers like Tulay Karaca; her carefully honed dancing reveals just as much skill as her costume reveals flesh, and the general ability of Turkish dancers to play zills (sagat) can be nothing short of spectacular.

 

Dig a little deeper and there's another side to Turkish dance too, just like the folk and baladi counterpart to modern Egyptian oriental. There are scholars who argue that some of the origins of modern belly dance come from the Rom folk traditions (or perhaps more accurately the Dom, as they are called in the Middle East and North Africa). This is a touchy subject that I'll leave to the experts, but Rom traditions are still very much alive and kicking in Turkey, as shown by Jaynie Aydin's documentary (scheduled for release in January 2011). 

It would be remiss to ignore this social context and the inspiring community folk traditions of Turkey when we refer to their dance culture. So this post stakes my position in defence and love of Turkish style bellydance - at least, the dance that is Turkish style for me! 

Without further ado, I'll close with the promised video of Melina, a spectacular performer whose mother, Rhea, was a famous belly dancer in Greece and her father a circus songwriter and guitarist. She teaches classes in belly dance and circus arts at the Moody Street Circus in Greater Boston, and one day, I hope to attend her floorwork classes designed to prepare for aerial circus; if I do, I'll let you know!

Tagged History Turkish
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