MassRaqs Panel Thoughts: Tradition vs. Innovation Part I: Flies, Liquid Offerings, and Dance

I was honored to be invited to be a panelist at MassRaqs this past weekend in Somerville, MA.  The focus of the panel was "globalization" and "cultural appropriation" in regards to dance.  The panel was made up of instructors from the weekend and invited guests such as myself and Donna Mejia, representing a mix of traditional and fusion-oriented perspectives (including Karim Nagi, Hadia, etc).  It was an intense and riveting experience, with a lot of interesting points brought up, but alas two hours was simply not enough time for everyone to be able to discuss their points and for the audience to ask more questions.  I gave my opening remarks with the intention/thought process that we'd all be able to return to our points in the discussion and question period, and it didn't end up that way. 

Consequently, my brain kicked into overdrive, and I have spent the last 24 hours spring-boarding off the ideas, questions, concerns, etc - that were brought up, but never got addressed.  The bad news is, I lost a bit of sleep in the process because my brain wouldn't shut up.  The awesome news is that I have enough material to post pretty much something every week through the end of the year, just from my panel discussion notes alone.

Looking at my list of topics, I have decided to start off here with one of the key points I did manage to bring up, and it's something that I believe is very vital to our dance community, right here, right now.

As a dancer, I find myself smack in the middle of two perceived camps: those who value tradition and those that value innovation.  I study traditional dance, emphatically, passionately, I can't get enough of it.  Yet my the majority of my performances are clearly fusion, a departure from the traditional. I teach both tradition and fusion, side by side. I support tradition, I support innovation.  Yet, I get flack from both sides for it. Not that that is ever going to change how I approach things (instead, it makes me even more staunchly focused on continuing doing what I'm doing), but it's a fact.

And the other day, I was contemplating the event I'm producing at the end of this month: Tapestry.  I have produced Gothic-only events (such as Gothla US, and smaller events), and I wanted to create something that focused more on the roots of the dance, as well as WHY we dance at all.  I want participants to foster a sense of self, spirituality, and community.  To partake in an event that's not just about performing, but really focused on learning, sharing, and growing.  This is my vision for Tapestry.  Traditional artists, fusion artists, all coming together, bringing to the table what they have to offer in a unique setting. 

So I was considering the demographic of attendees who have signed up for the event, and I think that the majority of them tend to be of a specific age and even style group, and I wondered about it.  They're not quite at either end of the spectrum when it comes to tradition vs. innovation.  They're mostly not newer fusion dancers and they're not hard-core preservationists. Which is fascinating (to me anyway).

And that got me thinking particularly about those at the farther out ends of the spectrum.  And myself.  When did I start really focusing on studying mainly folkloric dances? Did I miss out on earlier opportunities to study it, and why? I remember in 2004, I missed Aisha Ali teaching in San Jose, but not intentionally - I had the flu so bad I had to go to the hospital. But I remembering wanting to go.  I think there were other times that local dancers may have offered folkloric classes, but I remember not being interested for two reasons: 1. I hadn't been particularly moved by their performances and 2. Many of them had not been very pleasant at all to me.


You see, I have the following outlook on life:  Everyone starts on the same line, to be treated nicely and with respect unless actions/words prove otherwise.  Everyone is entitled to their opinion, but I think those opinions should be formed by in-person experiences, and that we all need to be aware of our own baggage.  I prefer to study with individuals that I perceive as having a similar outlook.  If you put me in the negative bin just because you heard I do some crazy fusion, then I have a hard time offering back any mutual respect for what you do.  If I enter your classroom, I'm doing it out of interest and am already showing even-line respect with my intention and my money.  So the "what are YOU doing here?" isn't an appreciated response to someone who wants to learn from you.

Luckily, the bitches didn't get me down. I found other instructors who were not only inspiring on the stage, but in the classroom, and welcoming to me.  They understand I wanted to learn and honored that desire by treating me with mutual respect. But not everyone is as hard-headed as me.  Others get the feeling that they're not wanted, their opinions or experience not  respected, and they avoid anything else similar like the plague.  I can't blame them. Nobody wants to hear "YOU'RE DOING IT WRONG!" hurled at them, right off the bat. Nobody wants to be made to be felt unwelcome.

And then we wonder why more young dancers aren't learning more about the roots of this dance? Is it really that surprising?

Of course, I also know it's not just a lack of a welcome mat that is a culprit, but inexperience/ignorance.  In a time where a lot of dancers are STARTING in Tribal Fusion without even ATS/ITS to start with, some dancers don't realize there are far deeper roots to be explored, and that their dance can benefit from it - from learning Arabic music, folkloric steps, that it can actually be a lot of fun too.  In their desire to becoming the next Amazing Superstar Clone, they're not looking for self-exploration, or considering anything else not within their immediate goal.  But it's also entirely possible that one day, maybe something will happen and they will desire to learn more.

So will we be waiting with open arms, willing to give them the roots they desire? Or will we take away the welcome mat?

Also, are we doing tradition justice when we perform it? What essence do we bring to it that makes it appealing for new generations of dancers? People yell and scream that fusion is the downfall of the dance, but I fear there is much more damage being done in the name of poorly done "traditional" dance, be it folkloric, Raqs Sharqi, etc.  Who are we to consider ourselves ambassadors of the dance (especially if one hails from a different culture), when we don't seek to truly embrace the essence of the dance, and offer it to educate and enthrall? If we refuse to acknowledge that the dance is a living breathing extension of culture that cannot live under a microscope in stasis?  What are we doing that makes other dancers go "wow, I want to learn that!"  How?


When we will acknowledge that there are far more of us in the middle than at the spectrum as well? Yes, there is the "ethnic police" and yes, there are those doing crazy stuff with barely a thread's attachment to bellydance, but I believe that most serious dancers are interested in both tradition and innovation.  We need to both preserve tradition and build NEW traditions through innovation.  That is how art and culture survives - foundation and building.

We do not do this dance any service by polarizing the preservation of tradition and the spirit of innovation.

We do not do this dance any service by polarizing the preservation of tradition and the spirit of innovation.

We do not do this dance any service by polarizing the preservation of tradition and the spirit of innovation.


(sunk in yet?)

As I said yesterday in the panel, if we want dancers to be more educated about the roots of the dance, then we need to realize that we catch more flies with honey, than we do with vinegar.  It starts with a welcome mat.

A Captive Audience: Understanding the "Performing" part of Performing Arts

I'm back from China!  And there was no access to blogger whatsoever while I was there, so I finally now get to post this, which I started on two weeks ago before I left!  Unfortunately, we've also been without power at home, due to Hurricane Irene, so thanks to work for having electricity and the interwebs...

Essentially, there are two kinds of dancing: social dancing - which essentially is dancing with other people and performance - dancing for other people. (And while you can argue while dancing at a club, some folks may be doing both, it's not what we're about to talk about here.)  Bellydance, it's folkloric predecessors/companions/roots and such, are most often done as social dance "over there" - but also has a long history of being a performing art - from the modern day performers in Cairo, leading wedding processions and dancing late nights at hotels and clubs to the historical Ouled Nail in Algeria and Shikhat in Morocco, to cite just a few examples.

Here in the US, we most often are using and considering the dance as a performing art - but it is often passed along to students in a quasi-social dance context.  Meaning, the art and performance aspect of the dance aren't as strongly emphasized as they should be, all the while, students are pushed/encouraged/rush to perform without the proper constructs to benefit both themselves and their potential future audiences.  Or perhaps the constructs are given, but are ignored. 

What am I getting at? It all relates to my frequently-asked-questions to my students worldwide "Why are you performing? What are you saying with your dance?"  It's the next step after you figure out the why and what of YOU and your dance - "What are you saying to your audience? What about THEM?"

Yes, this dance can be amazing vehicle for self-expression and exploration.  It can help you grow in ways you could have never imagined. It can help you figure out things about yourself, your life, your relationships, your health, your family. It can connect you to people and cultures across the world, new and old traditions, beliefs and customs.  It is truly awesome - a gift, and a blessing.

However, this does not mean that an audience must be made to witness every portion of that personal journey in explicit detail. 

Meaning? It's great that the dance can be a vehicle for change, but that doesn't mean that every concept your brain/heart comes up with, is appropriate to share with an audience - or more specifically, just ANY audience.  It doesn't give you the right to hit everyone over the head with your sexuality, relationships, triumphs, and sorrows - especially if they didn't sign up for it.  Don't hold others captive (in the worst way) because you see performing the dance solely as a means to work out your issues. I'm not saying you can't explore these topics in dance, but it's important to consider two things:

"Depth of Detail"
A lot of new performers make the mistake of thinking, in order to get an idea across, they need to be as blatant as possible.  Actually, great pieces are often made up of exactly the opposite - concrete concepts expressed abstractly.  The human mind is greatly capable of taking a few sections of a line or idea, and making the connections without aid.  For example - a dotted line.  It's not a continuous line, it's something made of dots, that is translated into a linear concept by our brain, making it easy to write upon and guide our hands. (And while we're at it, what you're reading right now is made up of dots, but you're not seeing those individual dots are you?  No, your brain is connecting them and making them into recognizable letters.) In my "Dancing on the Right Side of the Brain" workshop, one of the exercises the students do is to perform a story without any props or costuming, all to a set piece of lyric-less music, and they are given very specific concepts they need to get across. It never fails that every time, a lot (if not all) of them panic at the thought, but they ALL manage to pull it off.  So, you don't need everything and the kitchen sink to get a point across - and that props, costuming, and even the music are tools to help expand that concept, but it's the root of your dance movements and personal expression that truly relate what you need to say.  That should be the starting point for all of your performances - at the bare bones, what can you say? What gets the point across most simply and effectively? Everything else is ornamentation. Make the dots, let your audience draw their own lines.

"Venue Appropriateness"
This one is a real biggie. There are many levels of performance options nowadays for bellydance.  Haflas, theatrical shows, restaurants, cafes, clubs, themed events, etc. Nearly all of these things have different audiences. There's the dancers-for-dancers audience (meaning your audience is mainly other dancers), there's the general public audience (made up of non-dancers, who may not have had much exposure to the dance), there's target audiences (audiences who go for a specific theme, culture, or subculture - an art crowd, a mainly Middle Eastern crowd, a Gothic crowd, a Steampunk crowd, a Tribal crowd, an Oriental/Cabaret crowd, etc), and there's the mixed audiences (mixture of dancers, general, family perhaps, etc). 

Your potential audience is a pretty important thing to consider, because they're the ones you're dancing for. If you make the mistake of considering them in a more social context - a sort of strange "I'm dancing with me, and they're along for the ride" - you're disconnecting from your audience and disrespecting the communication that can happen between you and them.  I'm not saying the audience is the master of your performance creation and what you should do entirely, but you do need to consider them, and how you can best relate to each other. Who is your potential audience? What are they expecting? What do they know about dance? If the show is a Gothic-themed show, then the audience is going to be expecting something along those lines, making it a good venue for darker material, but not so good a venue for a typical restaurant set. A hafla that has both dancers and a lot of family members of all ages allows for variety, but should be considerate of all-ages and family-friendly in attire and subject matter. If it's a general public-exposure and they don't know a lot about bellydance, then pulling out your weirdest fusion concept is not a great idea - it not only confuses the audience, but makes a bad/incorrect connection with bellydance in their minds. If you ask yourself these questions, and sense an issue, then a course-correction is generally an excellent idea to allow for the most successful presentation and reception.

When you decide to start performing for audiences, you are taking on multiple responsibilities.  You're representing not only yourself, but your dance genre, community, style, etc.  Any time you dance for others, you're starting off a chain reaction.  You may not think what you do in your town on your local stage may effect dancers outside of it, but it's entirely possible and often does - for better AND for worse.  BELIEVE in this responsibility, because it does affect you, and others. 

Lastly, you're not just dancing with you, you're dancing for them; you're responsible for reaching out and trying to connect with your audience in the best way possible.  Respect them, communicate with them, acknowledge their part in your performance. Otherwise, you would really only be dancing with yourself.

Tribal Revolution Performance

Update: blogger and facebook accessible at least at Beijing Hilton...so with that, here's my performance from Chicago's Tribal Revolution this past June, music by Nathaniel Johnstone (created for my DVD).

FYI - MIA

Yiwu Market, where I'm heading....

When you hear/see about "design emergencies" on Project Runway, most people don't really consider that it applies to the "real world."  I always liked PR in concept because it reminded me of my time at RISD, which pretty much meant going from one design emergency/challenge to another - but college as we know, rarely is the "real world" either.

My "other" job though as a fashion jewelry designer for a major company is as "real world" as you can get, and while sometimes we have a normal schedule, it really is about extreme problem solving with no lead time and limited supplies.  Things happen fast without little notice and miracles must happen. Hence, I'll be on a plane to China on Friday and gone for at least 1 week, if not longer.  China blocks facebook, among other websites (and possible google/gmail, which means this site as well, since it's run by google), so I will be more or less MIA until the end of this month.  And since I will be half-way around the world from my normal position, 12 hours+ ahead, please refrain from trying to call OR text me, under penalty of disembowelment.  If you need to get a hold of me, please e-mail me at "tempest(at)meddevi.com" (fix appropriately to send), and I will do my best to get back to you when I can.

I have several blog posts I want to get up, but time is really short, so if I can access this site, I will post them weekly - if not, then when I come back. 

Art School for Bellydancers

At the end of July, I taught the first "Museum Quality: Art School for Bellydancers" intensive in Indianapolis.  It was 3 days-long with approximately 24 hours of instruction total, and I am extremely happy with the very clear results that I saw - they literally transformed in front of my eyes over those 3 days. 

Despite repeated praise from students and peers alike that I seem to exude confidence on the stage and in the classroom, I must confess that every time before I teach, there's a sense of anxiety involved.  Even after leading hundreds of workshops and classes, over half a decade of teaching dance (and much longer for art and metaphysics) - there's still a little trepidation of "will I give them what they need/want/expect?"  Museum Quality was no exception, not only considering the length of the intensive and the intimacy of group, but also presenting visual arts-based concepts to dancers. 

A lot of people nowadays seem to be talking about art and artistry in dance (new bandwagon?), but few of them come from a fine arts background.  I'm seeing a lot of concept being thrown around without much connection to real and helpful execution that makes for truly better dance, and especially bellydance.  Quotes are nice, but the ideas need to be able to truly flow down and exist in the body in order to take hold. You can't dance just in your head.  Not in my studio.  My regular workshops often incorporate artistry on different levels (especially "Dancing on the Right Side of the Brain", "Journey to the Underworld," and "Strange Presence"), but I wanted to go deeper, farther, more comprehensive - really making the concrete connection with fine art, so I created Museum Quality.

So I incorporated visual arts exercises (from critique technique to hands-on drawing), drawn from my 30+ years of fine art experience/education, and used them as tools to get the students to not only be more creative in their dancing, but to be more present in their dance and look not only at the details, but the whole picture, and bring their musicality to the next level. I carefully balanced the visual arts exercises with dance time application, lecture, and discussion, striving for the right mix. I know the processes worked for me personally, but the question was - would they work for other people?  Especially those from a variety of styles, levels of experience, and not necessarily familiar with the visual arts?

The resounding answer across the board was YES.  One of the things I pride myself on as a teacher is being able to adapt to what the students present need, versus trying to cram a static syllabus down their throats.  I believe you can maintain structure while being versatile without losing focus and form.  I also believe you can implement change without ripping apart everything a dancer is.  That's not how you nurture style or self-worth. So as we moved along through my intended points, we were able to work on what they needed most, while building on their inherent skills, and it really paid off.  Everyone was on board for the challenges I presented and even when they were uncomfortable, they were still willing to try what I threw at them, and it showed amazingly well in the results.

I am so proud of these women and what they accomplished, and look forward to watching them to continue to grow as dancers.

Learn more about what Museum Quality is here.

Mouth Closed, Ears Open.

There's often a point in most dancers' training where they have to try and justify everything - sometimes why they're doing something right, but most especially when they're caught doing something wrong.  Whether it's about a performance, or something being done in class - the automatic reaction is the mouth opens and words come. The hardest part is not about doing something right or wrong, but learning about when to shut the mouth.

This revelation came in two-part process for me, more or less.  And I believe it involved a grilled cheese sandwich, as most things do.

It was a weekend, about 6 or 7 years ago, when I had traveled down to Southern California for some events - I think it was a few strung together to make the trip extra worthwhile - a performance at a benefit, teach a workshop, and a theater show.  Back in those days especially, a trip to LA really threw me off energy-wise, almost like coming down with the flu - without the vomiting - but I hadn't really figured this out yet, and let's just say that first performance I'd probably file under "craptastic." And I knew it, and I just couldn't keep my mouth shut about it, even at the event.  The next day, after the workshop, I was having lunch with Princess Farhana (like you do), and I was telling her about how badly it went the night before - at least according to me and my brain -  in between nomming my grilled cheese sandwich.  And that's pretty much when she told me I needed to (learn how to) shut up.  That even if it goes badly, zip the lips, put your chin up, smile, and keep it yourself.  Took a while for that to sink in, but she was very much right (as usual).  If it goes really bad, it doesn't help anyone, especially yourself, to be apologetic to everyone and wallow in it.  Nobody wants to hear it - and if people did enjoy your performance anyway, it doesn't make them feel good to hear you think you sucked, and most often we're our own worst critics anyway. Move on, make notes, do better next time.  I would extend the same theory to when it goes really great - be happy, enjoy it, take notes, and move on. Either way, acknowledge people's feedback positively and graciously, and be congenial, yet concise. 

So, that's part one of keeping your trap shut.  The other part is in the classroom.  I don't remember the exact point of when I learned to do it myself (and whether it involved grilled cheese or not), but I do remember the time I became aware of it as a phenomenon via a class I was teaching.  It was a performance-level class, and part of the class involved me critiquing the students so they could be better performers.  And for every item I commented on, there was a response for why or why they didn't do something from the students.  In a nutshell, there was an excuse for everything, and it was starting to irk me - until I remembered doing it with one of my own teachers back in the day.  As a student, you desperately want to be right, to show your teacher that you do know better, and you want to voice that.  But in the larger scheme of things, this is really unnecessary, and is a waste of breath and time.  Your teacher (most likely) knows you are not a moron, and knows and believes you can do better - he or she is trying to help you be the best you can be.  And the only way to do that is to listen and acknowledge what is being said, and start to think about how to make those changes - instead of making an excuse or trying to prove you know better.  Don't talk about doing or knowing better, DO it, SHOW it, BE it.  The only way you can prove yourself is by demonstrating that ability in the classroom and on the stage, not debating it with your instructor. 

Lastly, this is not to say you shouldn't discuss problems and concerns with your teacher.  There is a time and place for that - usually outside the classroom or perhaps during a private lesson. What I'm talking about here is learning to accept critique from your teacher by realizing you're not on trial, you don't need to cite evidence to prove your case - just open your ears to listen to what your teacher is saying, and look realistically at what you're doing and see what needs to change.  Saves more meaningful mouth-time for that grilled cheese sandwich. 

How Does Your Dance Grow?

I think one of the most important things I have learned on my journey, and that I try to impress upon my students, is the different avenues that are available to us to grow our dance, and the best way to use each.  I believe there are 3 main ways that are crucial to a dancer's development, and it's very important to understand how to use each wisely.  These are: performance, regular classes, and workshops.  Each of these things are vital learning opportunities - the crucial point though is to understand how to use them properly to get the most of yourself and your dancing.

Regular Classes:
Regular classes should be the command center for technique: foundation, movement development and exploration.  This is the best opportunity to not only learn new core movements and dance structure, but to also perfect your understanding of them, review them, and to master them.  The familiar classroom is the best place to get proper critique and correction, to insure that what you're practicing at home is the best way for your health and body.  If your teacher doesn't give you feedback in class (often due to class-size, or sometimes because a teacher fears that critique will lead to student loss), then make sure you let him/her know that you are looking for it, and perhaps schedule a private lesson with them to work on certain points.  Don't assume because you're not getting any personal critique, doesn't mean you're doing it right/you are made of awesomesauce. Often when I draw my class's attention to a specific detail or insight, it's because it's something nearly (if not all) everyone needs to pay attention to.

Sometimes there just aren't regular classes in your area, or your schedule or budget makes it very difficult to attend them.  Then you need to supplement them with some sort of other regular program.  One option is DVDs - which can be great sources of information - the only drawback is you can't get corrections or critique from them.  So if there is at least a teacher in your area, or someone you can make a monthly trip to go see, then schedule a private lesson with them.  Often just one hour of private lessons with a good teacher can give you a month of key points to work on - and they can compare your progress with the last time.  There are also now a variety of online classes, video-review options, skype lessons, etc. 

Sometimes a dancer will think because they have been dancing for a couple years, they've outgrown all of their local classes - rarely is this true.  Taking a basics class can be a great refresher on moves you may have forgotten or have gotten lazy about - and different teachers have different ways of approaching and explaining things.  The best dancers never say "I'm above all this basic stuff."

Workshops:
Workshops are ideal for expanding upon the foundation you create and grow in regular classes. They're also a great way to be exposed to new/different ideas and styles.  The best way to get the most out of any workshop is to have your foundation elements in place, so that you can worry more about getting the concepts down. 

A single workshop in a topic should be seen as a sampling of a concept, which means a single workshop taken does not make you an expert on the subject or now qualified to teach it yourself.  I have heard people say "I want to learn a choreography in X style of dance, so I can add it to my repertoire." That's not really the point of taking a workshop - you can't add a new style of dance to your offerings after a couple of hours.  Rather, a choreography or group of combinations in a given style is presented for you to start understanding how it's put together, why it's done that way, etc - and generally just be better educated about that dance form. 

Workshops are also a great way to study with dancers you may not get to see often, and deepen your understanding of their style and skills.  They can also be really key in unlocking new doors for your own personal style, figuring out what works and what doesn't.  They should challenge your mind and your body in healthy, creative ways, and you should come home with at least 2-3 new points of consideration - whether it's an idea, a movement, etc.  Don't be disgruntled if you can't remember a whole choreography - again, that's not the purpose.  You're going to most likely have a lot of new information thrown at you, and chances are, you're not going to remember all of it.  And that's totally OK!  Just take the time to explore those several concepts you do remember, and add them to your journey.

Performing
The last way we grow our dance is through performing.  No matter how much you practice a piece, something else happens when you go on stage and perform it live for an audience.  Through performing, we learn a lot about ourselves, the best and the worst.  We can learn what works and what doesn't work, AND we have the freedom to change it for next time.  I think it's crucial to have a goal that you set for yourself for each and every performance - anywhere from "pretty hands" to "connecting with the audience" - and these goals really do add up and help you process your dance better.

The Power of Three
Lastly, what's really essential with these three things, is that they are used TOGETHER. If you only ever do regular classes - and only with one teacher, you won't expand your dance horizons without workshops and experimenting with different styles.  If you only ever do workshops, you're cutting out the foundation upkeep and critique you need from regular classes.  If you only ever perform, your dance won't grow anywhere as much as it would with classes and workshops. If you really wish to truly grow your dance, and grow it strong, consider how you can make room in your life and your budget for all 3, because it will make the difference.