The Eye of the Beholder

When you watch a dancer, what are you looking at and why? What wows you the most?

 Have you ever gone back to watch a video of a specific dancer or style of dance that blew you away years ago, but doesn't give you the same feeling now - or perhaps the exact opposite? Something you thought was "boring" has now become captivating?

Ever wonder what changed?

I'm not saying it was aliens, but....

(Just kidding...)

What changed was you. Really.

An integral part of my formal fine art and design training over the years has been the task of considering the audience.  This means thinking about what will capture their attention, how it will make them think, and what it may make them feel. It also means contemplating who your audience is. For a fine artist, the sum of this work is to consider how much of impact your work may have on others, so that you're not just creating art in a vacuum. For designers, it's about selling product (services, items, ideas). And well, sometimes both worlds overlap - and it certainly applicable to the performing arts.

In the realm of my professional work as a designer, this trained me to watch how people react to things: what they get excited about, what they dislike, what causes a trend. Not just for art or jewelry, but for dance as well. It's really quite fascinating - both in person and online. (Peoplewatching!)

So back to you: Your own experiences inform and flavor everything you see.  The more you learn about something, the more you will see - and how easy or difficult that process was for you personally will also affect what you see.

What do I mean?

Think back to the first time you ever saw a dancer perform live, prior to taking classes/starting your dance journey. You most likely took her (or him) in as a complete experience - the fluidity and grace of the movements, the sparkle and flash of the costume, their smile and gestures, and how it made YOU feel - excited, wowed, inspired.  It didn't matter if that dancer was a newbie in an airport special or a grand master of the dance in a Madame Abla.  She was the epitome of beauty and magic to you.

As you started to take classes, the next time you saw a dancer, your focus was most likely on technique.  You were learning how hard certain movements can be, so the more difficult the moves on stage appeared to be, the more you were impressed.  Who cares what she did with her face or what she wore, did you see those amazing isolations???

When you started to tackle issues of costuming, suddenly you were paying a lot more attention to what other dancers were wearing.  What worked, what didn't worked. And how it could look on you! Who cares if it worked with the music or the moves?

When it's time for you to perform yourself, whether that's crafting a choreography, doing improv, or somewhere in between, and choosing music, you start to notice how other dancers put together their dances. You also start to notice how other people respond to those performances as well. You wonder how they may respond to YOU.

What style you learn also informs how you view a dance.  Human beings often feel more comfortable watching something they have familiarity with.  Something they can measure up as a "doing it right" or "doing it wrong." If you're totally unfamiliar with a style unlike the one you're learning, it may be difficult for you to enjoy because you lack a frame of reference, except you know it's not what YOU know.

When you truly learn what musicality is, and how to apply Arabic musical concepts to the movements, regardless of the style of music, you start seeing performances in a whole new light.  That excellent "technique" back from the early days might not make sense any more when he pops his chest to the "dum" or she does hip drops on the "tek".  You start to see folks dancing over their music, and you discover the amazing quality of breath and stillness.

When you start to understand stage presence and the value of deepened expression, you really begin to notice facial expression (or lack there of) - and when a dance says something to you as a whole, or leaves you cold. You get excited when you see a baby dancer truly enjoying herself, and find yourself on the verge of tears as a veteran of a dance  pulls from the depths of her heart and holds you in the palm of her hand - without a single "trick."

And lastly over time you learn that when you watch a dancer, you can't compare them to you or to anyone else  They are their own dancer with their own story, journey, and path to follow.  You enjoy that for what it is, and the only dancer you compare yourself to, is the dancer you used to be.

7 Keys to Finding Happiness in Bellydance

Less is More:  When it comes to dancing, less is more. Don't throw everything and the kitchen sink in there.  Remember to breathe, and remember to have breath. And not all of that statement is about air intake.

More is More: But when it comes to costuming, more is more. And not just your costume, don't forget stage appropriate make-up, hair, and accessories. BE SHINY.

Be inspired, but be you, which sounds easy but is very difficult.  Imitation is easy and short-lived.

There is always more to learn. If you think you have learned everything there is to know about bellydance, you're nowhere near the finish line (of which there isn't one anyway), and especially NOT BETTER than anyone else.

The One & Only Truth: For every "truth" in bellydance, there are at least 3 supporting facts and at least 3 facts that also disprove it. Culture is always in flux and history is full of nuance. If anyone says their way is the ONLY way, they're wrong. Move on. 

The most likely cause of losing your love for the dance doesn't come from within, it's almost always an external influence. Remove those influences and seek new inspirations, and you'll find a renewed sense of love. If you let others take the joy from you and you do nothing to change it, then in the end, it falls on you, not them.

Always wear underwear. Always. If it involves a stage or performing for anyone besides your cats...wear underwear.  I mean it. No butts.

Let's Cut the Crap, Kill the Cult, and Fix The Boat

The years of my career where I worried about what people thought of me were the worst: physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

I didn't get into bellydance for fortune or fame. I got into it because my soul called out for it. I remember attending a world music concert where the band did a short piece inspired by the Zar, and the ayyub rhythm sounded like the voice of a long-lost friend I never even knew I had.  The beauty and sensual power of the oriental dancers I would see live at the local restaurant  transformed and transfixed me. The images and VHS tapes I would soon see of Tribal dancers moving together sung out to my heart. The music, the movements, the cultures, the costuming, the mystique - it all spoke to me.

It also whispered to the little girl deep inside who never had any sisters and had a long line of "best friends" who ended up moving away, going to different schools, or were more concerned about stuff than actual friendship. It touched the bruised young woman who was too skinny and flat-chested, too smart, too much a tomboy, too weird, too artistic, too not interested enough in the popular, typical things. It wasn't that it promised her sisterhood, but it showed her women working together beautifully to make art in motion - and that was inspiring.

And I think that same whisper comes to many women (and men as well).  That not only does this dance offer all of the amazing history, music, movements, and culture AND a chance to foster self-esteem and self-expression, but it hints at a place that feels like home. It suggests a common language, a unique understanding, and a social ground for those who don't quite fit in.

"Welcome to the Toilet" brought up a few discussions that made me think about that promise and appeal. Several dancers talked about the feeling of being unwelcome and/or not a true part of the classes they were in or festivals that they attended - which was very sad and distressing to me.

Sure, you could suggest that maybe those individuals who found the classes/events unwelcoming just aren't good at socializing and it was all in their head - that it was them, not the teacher, the rest of the class, or the event itself. That perhaps they expect for the teacher to instantly be their buddy/friend or for there to be open arms at registration check-in. But I don't think that's fair nor accurate. Unfortunately some folks in certain positions have confused exclusive and inclusive - and forgot how to be welcoming to newcomers and others.

I think some people come into this dance to feel accepted, become empowered, and think that this is now their opportunity to make up for whatever slights they experienced in their youth. That now is their time to be "cool" and begin to structure classes, troupes, and events around that model.  Human beings are very social animals, so we naturally want to foster groups where we feel we belong - but the issue comes when we start to believe our group is the only/best/coolest/whatever group.  Those individuals end up re-creating the very scenario they felt slighted in from years ago. And then it stops being about the beauty and power of the dance, but whether or not anyone else "belongs."  The popular opinion of the perceived elite becomes almighty and a cult or clique is formed.

But one style is not "cooler" or "better" than another - we're all in the same boat.  Yet folks get hung up with being part of the "one true style." They want to feel that their style/group/troupe/event is THE best - but why? Being different doesn't equate to being wrong (or right). Your path is exactly your path, not anyone else's, and there's no way to compare it.  Dance isn't religion. And throwing around canon (yes) balls around only damages the boat we're all on.

I certainly wasn't prepared to handle a lot of what I experienced from around 2004-2009. I was muddling around doing this thing that was inspiring to me, and suddenly I was under the magnifying glasses of many people I didn't know, being told what I was doing wrong or right, how I met or didn't meet their expectations or definitions, what I should or shouldn't be doing, complete with sudden new best friends, advocates, frenemies, and adversaries. Dance stopped being so much about this beautiful exploration of culture and self, and about what other people wanted/didn't want. There were several times I seriously considered quitting dance altogether.

Then I re-discovered dance for myself, and what drew me to it in the first place. I found inspiration from within, as well as considered what it could mean for others and their own experience.  Most importantly, I stopped caring what "everyone" thought and found happiness in reaching across ALL the borders. Why be just be or think one way when you enjoy the diversity of many?

I have worked hard to make sure that my classes, events, and workshops have been and are welcoming for all.  We have joked that it's a bit like the Island of Misfit Toys, but I wouldn't have it any other way.  The dance should be available to everyone to learn and enjoy responsibly and safely. It's not about being cool or special or popular - it's about sharing the dance. We can do that across styles, genders, and origins - and have a fantastic journey together.

I'm pretty sure we all learned about sharing somewhere around kindergarten. So let's go back and remember those important lessons, kick out the high school behavior, and grow this dance in healthy, positive ways.

I will leave you with one of my favorite quotes from Groucho Marx who said,  "I don’t care to belong to any club that will have me as a member." 

Hang In There Until Death Comes

In case it needs stating, I didn't say bellydance was dying or that the current state of things will lead to the end of it all.

In fact, I'm pretty sure the dance will outlive all of us.  It was here before, and it will be here after. It has experienced adversity and popularity, withstood being outlawed and pushed underground, has seen many successes and booms, as well as failures and downfalls. It grows, it changes, it stays the same as well. Bellydance is an art immersed in multiple cultures and areas, and art always finds a way to move forward.  Art is part of human expression - and as long as there are humans, there will be art.

But we can't keep on with the current/standard model found with the bellydance community itself.  Once something has gone past equilibrium, changes have to be made.  There will be losses before a new cycle begins again.

Which is what The Death card from the Tarot is all about.  Endings leading to new beginnings - change, transition, and rebirth. It's akin to the myth of the Phoenix, and of Kali Ma - that sometimes there is destruction, chaos, and cleansing before there can be new growth.

But I don't think we've even reached Death (#13) yet.  I'm pretty sure if we were going to assign a Major Arcana card to the Bellydance Community as a whole, we'd be pulling The Hanged Man (#12). It signifies stagnation, being stuck, restricted, unable to make movement or change to affect one's situation. It calls for meditation, patience, introspective consideration,and sacrifice. Consider the myth of Odin hanging from the World Tree, wasting away, dying, and then falling to be reborn.

What does The Hanged Man signify? Those that are willing to be patient, to endure, to make changes, and weather it all will make it through to the next cycle when it eventually comes, or perhaps move on to other paths in the meantime.

Now, what would I like to see happen? (I can have fantasies too.)

-A balancing of the student/teacher base and influx of new dedicated students who are excited about the dance.

-The end to poor business practices - from undercutting and backbiting to celebrating cloning and mediocrity - while moving towards more grounded understanding of the business aspects of the dance, and mutual respect.

-An end to cults of personality and cliques that fail to further the dance itself, often wearing down and driving out more potential dancers than attracting and maintaining them.

-A healthy respect for both tradition/history and innovation/fusion, fostered mutual respect among the various styles and genres - seeing that they can compliment each other versus compete with each other.

-More appreciation for live music, culture, costuming, history, and taking the time to learn the craft/trade aspects, and improved communication with the larger community.

-Understanding that while the dance can bring on amazing transformation in a person (mentally, physically, spiritually), that it's not all about you - that learning and being a part of the community is about everyone involved.  It is not a tool solely for boosting one's ego, power, or sense of entitlement.

-That we all rediscover our love for the dance.

Welcome to the Toilet.

A bit of a gritty title for sure, but I've yet to come up with a better metaphor for the current state of the bellydance economy. And every person I've talked to about it has had the same response: initial repulsion followed by slow nodding and thorough understanding.

There's a lot here, so bear with me as I try to get it all out. And this is all in reference to bellydancers, within the community - not factoring in the general public side of things (restaurant gigs, other kinds of shows, etc). Everything happens in waves, and each wave is a bit different - because the world keeps changing. These are not ALL of the reasons (I would have to go to novel-status for that), but a lot of the key contributing factors we are looking at.

While I have not been around as long as others in the field (such as my dance mentors), I produced my first bellydance event in 2001, attended numerous events throughout the world (some as an attendee, some as a vendor and more as hired talent to instruct/perform), have organized multiple tours, and still actively produce, teach, perform, and vend today. I was there at the birth of the new fusion movement, and I have carefully tracked the ripples over the last 1.5 decades, especially throughout North America. And I continue to talk and network with a lot of people in different aspects of the trade.

I feel lucky to have launched the larger part of my dance career in the midst of a boom.  Thanks to a new DVD market, new social online media (remember tribe.net and myspace), and a hungry, inspired audience, the first nationwide tour I planned in 2006 (The Durga Tour) was a huge success across the board in terms of full classrooms/shows and merch sales. For the most part, sponsors didn't need to market hard or be that experienced to make it a success.  The second tour for the most part saw equal numbers (or more) in workshop/show attendance, but the overall economy was hitting the merch sales hard.  Where attendees may have dropped $50-$200 easily in 2006 on merch alone, most were sticking to the $20-$40 mark in 2009 (a CD, DVD, or t-shirt vs. pricier costuming) after buying their workshop/show ticket. This trend to me showed a willingness to invest in learning and something they could appreciate and work with for a long time, despite economic hardship. In 2012, I planned a smaller, low-key tour to help me move from Providence to Seattle, and numbers were down generally across the board, minus a few hard-to-reach spots (like Billings, MT) and locations were I have a dedicated, established fanbase. Newbie sponsors especially had a hard time, and most sponsors mentioned the number of events happening at that time - more on this further down.

I have also noted a transition in the last 10 years is a move from weekend events that featured 1-3 teachers offering workshops with a show to more and more big, multi-headliner festivals. When I first started out, the majority of the events I was hired to do featured only myself, plus maybe a local instructor for a weekend, where I would teach 2-4 workshops and perform in a show. Now I'm mainly hired to teach at festivals and to do intensives. I'm still quite busy and in demand, but in different ways and now, in different markets.

Really, when you stand back and look at the bellydance community as a whole, you could say wow, there's more teachers, more events than ever, more stuff happening - that must be a good sign!

It would be - if we had a continually expanding stream of new students coming up to support it. And we don't. More on that shortly.

So there's more and more new festivals/events happening, meanwhile the festival events that have been the initial inspiration and mainstays in the community for years are being hit hard, and some of them are folding/closing down.  And many of the new events barely make it out of the gate. Why?

Location: Folks who would normally travel for hours to attend an event in another state or country, now have one in their own backyard.  Why put out a lot of money for airplane tickets, hotels, etc -  if you can have your favorite dancers in your own backyard? Or have 3 events that do that for you within 3 hours drive? Just how many big events can you attend in a year?

Vendors: Many of the old school importer vendors have closed up shop as well - because it's hard to compete with their own suppliers in India and Egypt selling directly online to their customers. Other vendors find it's easier/more affordable to sell their wares online than to shoulder the expense of traveling to sell at an event.  And it's the vendor booth fees that really help finance the cost of an event (at least the venue) - so less vendors = higher costs. Then you have the independent designers whose work gets copied/knocked-off either by overseas manufacturers or other "designers."

Production: When there was very little competition for events, and when the market was booming, it was pretty easy to have a successful event, regardless of producing skills, attitude, etc.  When you're the only game in town, folks want to play it.  When they have choices, they're going to look for the game that's more user-friendly and treats them well. You had a limited number of platforms to advertise with back then, and you would reap the rewards of it easily.  Now there's countless social media platforms to consider, and even more competition on them for people's attention. Nowadays, an event has to have an easy-to-use website, use online forms to apply for shows, have positive and prompt interaction, wallet-friendly pricing, and promise to deliver a whole lot to get folks in the door.  Not like back in the day where you could hang a black-and-white flier on your studio door that Miss SuperHips would be teaching a workshop there in 3 months and be sold out in a week.  So if a new producer NOW thinks all they need to do is have some big-name dancers on their ad and call it a day, they're going to be feeling the hurt soon enough.

Accessibility: Especially if that big-name dancer is at the more effectively produced/friendly event down-the-street, or also has online classes, or was just in the area a few weeks ago. When a student feels they could study with that teacher "next time", they will most likely wait.  Do online classes, dvds, and youtube really cut down on event attendance? I think for some people, yes.  Especially if they are on a tight budget.  They will forgo the live experience for the digital.

Scheduling: Not only are we seeing more and more events as folks try their hat at producing, we're seeing more events planned right on top of each other - sometimes in the same city/area. And there's no excuse about the markets being different when surveys have shown that 60% of the community will attend both tribal/fusion and oriental style events. There's also a new trend in events designed to feed off established events, where they happen the week before/after the established event, trying to latch on to that fan base.  There are only so many attendees to go around, and only so much money.

Money: Which brings us to money. Rarely are bellydancers independently wealthy, and you can only write so much off on your taxes (if you're doing this professionally vs. a hobby). The typical dancer has a set budget that they work with - how much they will spend on classes/workshops, how much on costuming/music, how much on travel. More events means that budget gets stretched tighter over several events, or they cut back to just one or two. You can only do so much with one body and a limited amount of money.

Cost: With the switch from bringing in 1-2 teachers for a weekend to dozens, the cost to produce an event goes up.  Not only do you have more airfare, food, and accommodations to cover, but you need a bigger venue to have room for more workshops, more vendors, bigger show, etc - and hopefully more students. The idea is that if you have more choices, you'll attract more people than those that have fewer instructors/workshops.

The Dedicated Dancer: Those of us who were baby dancers in the beginning of the last boom and have still continued on (and those before us) - are looking for more serious experiences.  They don't want a basic workshop, they want an intensive with their favorite instructor.  Or if they're looking for workshops, they want to try new and different things or more in-depth approaches, rather than taking the same workshop with the same big-name - but with a different title. They remember forking over a lot of money for years to certain names, and began to notice that the material didn't change much - or wasn't delivered.  When the Big Name Draw Glow begins to fade with the disappointment of non-delivery, they stop investing, no matter how much they may like that personality.  However, the type of experiences the Dedicated Dancer wants is going to cost more money (and they know it) - so they're going to budget for those special events, versus going to other events. It doesn't mean they care less about those events or think the price is wrong - they are simply conserving their time/money for what they believe will advance their dance more.

Student Base: And this is where I think it all comes down to. You can keep expanding as long as the demand exceeds the supply (and the supply would be teachers/events/etc). But where are the new students?  I'm not talking the usual crop of dancers in the hobbyist range who will come across a dance class at their local fitness center and fall in love.  Or see you perform at a show or restaurant, and want to take classes. I think this group is a wonderful standard that has been pretty even across the board for the last several decades.  No, I'm talking about new dancers under the age of 30 who are just coming into dance. The teens and the college-age folks who are excited about the dance and want to keep going. Before you start yelling at me "But I'm 18/24 and I love bellydance!" - yes, I know there are some of you out there (whom I love dearly!) - yay! But there's a whole lot less of you compared to when *I* started in my early 20's.  So where are the rest of the young dancers? What are they into? Why are they not interested in bellydance? I have my theories on this too which deserves another post unto itself.  But if we can figure out how to attract that market, it would mean an increase in students - which would feed everything else (though it's not a solution unto itself).  You can't have more teachers than students.  And right now, the majority of this whole economy is based by dancers for dancers (and hence a major issue for continued growth.)

Apathy: Lastly, when events/teachers are easily accessible - when there is a wide choice of workshops and shows to attend, things become less precious.  Especially if the quality of any single event is less than stellar, then the market is less likely to take a risk, even if it's a different show/people entirely. One moldy apple can really spoil the bin.  This tends to be especially true in large cities, where a lot of different events happen often at the same time or closely.

So in summary, basically we had a huge new explosion in the bellydance community/economy starting around 2000.  Tribal attracted a whole student base, and Fusion even more so as it reached new inspirations and sources.  The Bellydance Superstars latched into the college-age market with the music festival circuit (remember Lollapalooza?) and pulled more folks in to the weekly classes. There was a demand for more and more classes. More people started teaching. More events started happening. (Somewhere in here I will insert the issue of the larger economy crashing - where a lot of folks lost their jobs/got laid off/etc, and they switched to more creative/independent means to make ends meet - teaching dance, producing, vending, etc. And few recognize how hard it is when you make your hobby your job.)And the teachers and events continued to expand in number, while slowly the student base shrank. So now the toilet bowl has stopped up and has reached its capacity. We're at overflow with nowhere to go until things dry up  and we've been holding at this overflow point for the last couple of years.

Maybe it just all needs to get flushed, and things will follow a new wave in another decade or so - which is what history seems to indicate.

Some events will continue to work the times, tap into the market effectively and prosper (or break even). Other events will just stop happening. Some teachers will keep with it and others will move on.  There will be less classes, less events, less resources. And perhaps it will be missed and people will treasure what they have and support it more.  Perhaps there will be another new innovation/spark of inspiration that will kick things off again. It's the circle of life, but with more glitter.

In the meantime, what do we do?

If we're producing events - ask ourselves, who benefits? Is it a quality event? Does it support the community and is supported in return? Are we reaching our market and interacting with them effectively?  Are we networking with other producers to prevent overlapping, combining efforts to build better events?

If we're teaching classes/workshops - why do we teach? What do we offer that's different? Are we offering our students the best experience and material possible? Are we investing in our own education?

And ask ourselves, what can we do to support quality teachers and events? What we can do to expand our study of bellydance - the dance itself, the music, and culture.  How do we reach out to the larger community and interest them?

And here's to the newest prop in the bellydance world: the almighty plunger.

The Magic & Mystery of the Dress

The first piece of bellydance costuming I ever lusted over (aside from the black Egyptian chiffon triangular hipscarf with silver coins that I stalked on ebay circa 2000 and still have today) was a "ghawazee coat." The unique sleeves, the underbust cut, the frock-coat like fitting. I was (and still am) in love with the design, as well as the whole look presented in the engravings and lithographs depicting the dancers.  And while I was able to capture some of those elements early on, the one that really eluded me was the coat.

In 2001, a group of friends chipped in and bought me a gift certificate for Artemis Imports.  I spent hours pouring over that crazy, wonderful catalog.  If you never have had the pleasure of getting the mailorder catalog from Artemis Import (and back then it was either shop from her in person at events or send in a few dollars to get the catalog), it was a HUGE plastic-tooth bound cut-and-paste bonanza. And she had ghawazee coats for sale - so with my gift certificate, I bought one!

I'm not sure why I thought it was going to be wine-colored (wasn't the catalog in black and white? Maybe there was a one-off color sheet in there...), but I was very surprised that when it arrive it was 1/4" wide red and black stripes. And  unfortunately was WAY too big for me, especially in the chest. I sadly returned it (but I did get the FCBD "Tattooed One" and the rest of the Solace albums I didn't have yet in exchange).  This pattern would repeat again and again over the years - every coat I came across didn't fit me (and/or came close to fitting in my meager budget).

Despite that continuing disappointment, I never stopped being inspired by those early images, hints of them repeatedly showing up in my costuming throughout the years.  Why? What is about these women, dancing in their many layers of fabric, that drew my eye and inspired by my heart?

This image shows a small sampling of my "covered" costuming - over a decade of dresses.  Where it seems that many of my fellow dancers work to show more and more skin, I keep coming back to these looks.  Why?

Some women prefer to wear dresses to cover weight/body size, stretch marks, or for modesty (when they're not specifically being used to represent a folkloric dance). Being comfortable and confident in your own skin via your costuming is a HUGE factor and if a dress does that for you, that's fantastic. Me? I'm happy with the shape of my body - whether you can see the skin/shape or not, nor do I have marks to hide (at least not yet!), and I don't think I qualify for any modest awards.  Basically, I'm not hiding anything.

Or am I?

Over the last year, I transitioned from dancing with The Nathaniel Johnstone Band to also being an active musician as well.  This means during an entire show, part of the time I'm dancing and the rest of the time, I'm playing keyboards/percussion. The far right image of me, I'm wearing the costume I pulled together for "Stone Woman" (our Medusa song), which is mainly a re-purposed thrift-store find.  While on tour, I found that there wasn't time/space for costume changes, so I stuck to one costume to make the most impact - and it was this costume.  It has a huge bling factor, really shows off isolations, while letting me move big when I need to.  I also realized that I felt more confident not being the "half-nekkid" band member, especially at steampunk events, where nearly everybody has MANY layers of clothing on.  I hadn't realized this was even a thing, until we were doing a show last month where I grabbed my "Amulet" costume to wear instead of digging out the Medusa one - and I felt really exposed. I'd already worn "Amulet" at several bellydance events and for the Stoneburner shows, and felt fine and fabulous every time.  But with my own band? Nope.

So I decided to order a style of Egyptian dress I've been oogling for over a year, to get another blingy dress for bandwear. I didn't have any plans specifically for it, so I was pleasantly surprised when it matched the Amulet costume perfectly. And it was stretching enough that I could move the neckline to scoop the bra instead of covering it.  Without trying to, I managed to get the perfect "ghawazee coat" inspired piece I have been lusting after all these years - the scooped bustline, the stripes, the sleeves! And it fits perfectly!

I think I have figured out why those layers have fascinated me all these years.  There is truly something sensual, magical, empowering about revealing less of your outside while showing more of your inner awesome.

Then again, I could just be a Victorian re-incarnated.  Which would probably surprise no one.

HRM Steampunk Steamposium on the Queen Mary, photo by Wade Watkins

The Business of Being An Artist

(This particular post can be applied to any kind of art, it's getting placed in the dance blog for convenience.)

2015, for me, has the subtitle of "the year of getting down to business proper."  (I have no doubt that it will acquire many more as it ages.) So it's probably no surprise that articles and discussions about the difficulty of being an artist and trying to do business at the same time are catching my eye. There's a particular line of "oh, but I just really want to focus on MY ART, I'm not any good at the other stuff."

This is nothing new.  I've been hearing it for years in the dance community. "I am/so-and-so is/such a lovely dancer/teacher, but no one has heard of me/them - and it's because I/they focus on my/their art, and it's not fair. Marketing/business takes precious hours away from my true love and vocation."  Which is then paired with the implication that anyone else who is making it, isn't as TRUE an artist, they're just better business people (sometimes this is unspoken, sometimes not).  (Because of course blaming/disparaging someone else for their apparent success makes your own lack-there-of easier to justify, right?)

And you know, I understand, really I do.  I'd love to just work in my studio all day long, while having my art completely support me without having to do anything besides make it.  Such a lovely fantasy.

So keep that in mind when I say: SUCK IT UP BUTTERCUP.

Seriously.

You spent a long time mastering your art/craft, yes? And probably (aka should) still put more time now into expanding it via workshops/classes/etc. There were certainly times where you lacked the proper skill/knowledge to accomplish certain movements perfectly, work with a particular media, write the perfect prose. Yes, you may have possessed inherent talent (aka, doodling on the living room walls when you were 3), but it had to be honed and developed.  Countless hours were spent investing in your craft, and not all of them were enjoyable. And you're lying if you say they were.  (If I have to make one more graduated black to white chart in charcoal again with 12 variations in between...)  Face it, at some point in your journey, probably dozens of points, you sucked and you were frustrated, but you kept going.

The hard truth is that business skills fall into the same category.  And they are not separate from your art, they're integral to it.  Marketing and networking doesn't come easy to introverts, but you can learn to do it well, or at least well enough.  (Fake it until you make it.) Like everything else, it just takes practice, and you're going to suck at it for a while.

And while having someone who solely does all of those business aspects for you would be fantastic  - no one is going to sell your work (and essentially YOU) for you, unless you believe in yourself and your work first.  Meaning you have to get it out there in the first place - which takes working on some of those biz skills. It's not going to happen overnight.  There are very few (if any) true "overnight successes."  All of the artists/performers/musicians I know who you hear about, they've been at it for a while.  There is rarely ever one "big break" that makes it all happen. It's more of a juggernaut effect - but you have to get the ball rolling first.

There is also a lot that can learned in acquiring those business skills that can advance your art in other ways.  When you start to consider your audience (or potential audience), how it's being received/perceived, and what is working - that information can all be used to help you pinpoint your own strengths and weaknesses. Therefore you can become even better at your art than you can producing in a vacuum.

Now, if the opportunity comes to me to have a go-getting agent and/or numerous financially supportive patrons, I'm not going to balk at having to handle less of the load (Hi! Write me!).  But I will recognize that it happened because I busted my ass in the first place and muddled through the sucking stages.