Notes from Aslahan

I’ve known or heard of more than one dancer or dance teacher who, when he or she finds a really great resource or hint of some kind, guards it as a careful secret. Instructors who hold back their special technique from students. I can’t deny that when I find a resource for a fantastic costume piece, learn or create a unique bit of dance technique, or receive a really great piece of advice, there’s sometimes a little voice inside me that says, “Don’t share this with anyone else. Then YOU won’t be special.”

I’m not ashamed of this voice. I’m only human. But neither do I heed it. Instead, I try to be generous.

Please note – I’m not talking about giving your time and knowledge away for free. There’s not a thing wrong with being paid to teach, coach, perform. You absolutely should be. I’m talking about being generous of spirit; not holding back the best of yourself from your students, peers, and friends.

I could list all the spiritual, psychological, soul-feeding reasons why this kind of generosity is beneficial. But in this post I’m instead going to outline two perfectly self-serving reasons to be generous of spirit. 🙂

1. Giving the best of yourself to your students and colleagues allows them to represent this art better. The more beautifully and professionally this dance is presented, by *anyone*, the more respect and exposure it will receive. And thereby, the more (and better-paying) jobs there will be for all of us.
2. If you gain a reputation for being generous, more people will want to work with you/put you in their shows/hire you to teach workshops and seminars. I’ve looked at the dancers I admire, the ones whose careers have lasted for decades, and they are all known for giving generously of their time, knowledge, and selves. If I want that kind of career, it makes sense that I should emulate them.

So if you’re worried that you’re being naive to give so much of yourself, consider the points above. On the other hand, if you think *I’m* being naive, feel free to let me know in the comments. 😉

In the past few years I’ve encountered students and fellow workshop attendees who are embarrassed by teacher correction. Heard stories of workshop instructors who have been asked not to correct because it upsets the students. Listened to dancers who would rather explain away feedback than consider it.

I attended a workshop this past Saturday with Najmat. For those of you who don’t know her, she’s a fantastic Egyptian-style dancer based in Boston. She’s both a compelling performer and an excellent teacher. And her style couldn’t be further from mine. No, I haven’t decided to pursue Egyptian dance. But I wanted to explore, expand my own boundaries, and the workshop subject, Ooey Gooey moves, is something Najmat does particularly well. I wanted some insight into what was behind it.

I enjoyed the workshop thoroughly, and came away with new ideas to incorporate in my own dancing. But one particular moment struck me. I was trying to contract muscles in my thighs and abdomen as Najmat instructed, which was not the way I was accustomed to using those muscles. “Squeeze,” she said, looking me in the eye. “Squeeze.” I squeezed. I squeezed so hard trying to get the effect she was going for that, without my noticing, my upper abs began to join the party, pulling down my ribcage. She walked over to me and, with one gentle motion, pulled my ribcage and shoulders back into position. “Isolate!” she commanded the room.

The moment she freed my ribcage I realized two things:

• My isolation of abdominal and pelvic muscles, while sufficient for my usual style, could be improved. This could only result in my being a better dancer.
• My students are probably running into this as well. I’d been approaching dropped ribcage and shoulders as a separate issue from abdominal tuck, but for those unused to our abdominal isolations at all, surely it was was at least complicating the postural issue?

Imagine if I hadn’t been open to her correction. Imagine if she hadn’t felt free to give it. I would have missed out on this moment of insight, and I would be poorer as both a dancer and a teacher.

I understand where reluctance to accept criticism comes from. But being closed to correction only limits us as dancers. I have some suggestions for freeing ourselves from this mindset.

Remember that if you already knew how to do it, you wouldn’t be taking the class in the first place. Sometimes when I call out a correction to a student, she’ll call back “sorry!” “Don’t be sorry,” I say, “if you could already do this you wouldn’t need me.” You’re there to learn – let your teacher teach. No one looks down on you for not already being perfect.

Remember that correction doesn’t always mean wrong; sometimes it just means different. When I was younger, sometimes I would take a workshop where I was performing a move as my teacher taught me, and the instructor would come over and correct what I was doing. I would stifle the urge to say “I’m doing it right according to my teacher.” Sometimes other students wouldn’t stifle that urge – “that’s not how I learned it,” they’d argue. Relax. You’re there to learn it the instructor’s way. It doesn’t automatically make your way wrong. Newer students often forget (or don’t realize) that this is a non-codified dance, with different styles and individualistic approaches. Resisting the instructor’s approach only gets in the way of gaining new insights and deepening your technique as a dancer.

As for unsolicited feedback, keep in mind that it isn’t necessarily coming from a source you trust. Sometimes it can be – if a dancer you respect makes a comment, consider it. Maybe she’s giving you a gift that you can use to improve your dance. But when criticism or correction comes unasked, we often feel the need to defend ourselves before we even think “am I really so concerned with this person’s opinion?” Maybe the comment comes from a place of malice, or maybe just simple misunderstanding. If it’s not someone whose opinion you would seek out, let it go. Don’t draw them into a debate about your merits as a dancer. Say “thank you for the feedback” and go back to what you were doing.

In the end, your dancing will speak for itself.

Due to technical difficulties, it’s been a while since I’ve posted. I’ve got some drafts of more “philosophical” articles I’m working on, but with two of my students planning solo debuts in March, today I’m going for the practical. This is a list (not an exhaustive one, but, I hope, well rounded) of practical considerations for performing.

Dress rehearsal
Practice in your costume, including all jewelry you intend to wear, the hairstyle you’re planning, and any props you plan to use, at least once BEFORE the day of the show. You want to discover snagging, slipping, tangling or any other problem beforehand, not during your show. This is also where you can figure out where you might want safety pins – I like one as extra insurance on my costume top, in case the hooks give (this has never happened to me, but I’ve heard stories). Depending on the style and fit of the costume, I will also put one in the center front and center back of the belt, pinning it to the skirt so that the skirt doesn’t peek over the belt top.

Underwear/underskirt/harem pants
Figure out what is going to work beneath your costume. This will vary according to how much the costume hugs your hips, where any cutouts are, and what the chances are of revealing what’s underneath when you spin or a sideslit swings open.

Makeup
If you’re new to performance makeup, you should do at least one practice session before the day of the show. Makeup requirements are going to vary with lighting and size of the venue, but the basics for a hafla or typical nightclub gig are:

• Consider false eyelashes. These do take some practice. Some dancers find them more trouble than they are worth, but, at least with my eye shape, they give me an extra something that no amount of makeup can match. I like Ardell 305s, which only go on the outer half of your eye.
• Darken eyebrows more than you normally would. This is more important than you probably think it is – eyebrows really frame your face – they allow you to have a stronger stage presence and project your expressions farther.
• Apply thicker, darker eyeliner than you would normally wear. I recommend black or dark brown, depending on your coloring. I’m not afraid to spend a little money for quality, but currently my favorite is Wet’n’Wild gel liner in black, because it Does. Not. Budge.)
• Contour your eye sockets further out and with a darker color than normal – this will actually work even more than eyeliner to give the impression of a bigger eye.
• Contour under cheekbones and jaw – I find lights tend to wash out my jawline, so I brush along my jaw and under my chin with bronzer or brown eyeshadow.
• Use a richly colored lipstick (I like red!). Either use lipliner or apply with a lip brush for a well-defined line. I prefer to use a very matte, highly pigmented lipstick as a base, and then dab a moister lipstick on top. That way my lips don’t look dry, but my lip color still has staying power and depth.

Street clothes
You need clothes to wear on your way to the show that don’t leave marks on your skin (ie no bra, no waistband that leaves marks). Even socks might leave visible marks on your calves or ankles.

Coverup
If possible one that fastens in the front rather than needing to be pulled over your head. Coverups are less commonly used at nightclub gigs (usually you’ll just change out of your street clothes, perform, and change back into your street clothes). At a theatre show or an event with a number of dancers a coverup is essential – you want to keep your costume a mystery for the greatest impact, and it’s terrible etiquette to be wandering about with your costume visible while someone else is performing. Caftans are easy to buy or make and have a nice ethnic look. Some dancers buy a pretty silky robe from a department store and add snaps or other fasteners.

Bag
Some dancers like a garment bag for their costumes – I prefer a roller suitcase. Some of my costumes can be rather heavy, and for events where I need to pack two costumes it gets a bit much to have to haul around without benefit of wheels.

Veil
I use silk veils, and I hate ironing them. You’ll have to if it’s gotten heavily wrinkled, or if it still has the fold marks from purchase (I confess, watching someone dance with a veil with the original fold marks is one of my pet peeves). For packing for shows, I hold my veil by the long edge, fold in thirds and then again in half to make 6ths. Then I roll down the length and put in my suitcase. I do this again when I pack up after performing so my veil doesn’t get wrinkled on the ride home.

If you’re dancing a full set
You are probably going to sweat! Pack spare underwear and a towel. If you have long hair I also recommend a hairstick or some other implement to get your hair off your neck after the show. A water bottle is good – hydrate both before and after, especially in summer! I and a number of my pals also carry a small Chinese folding fan – they work wonders to help cool you off, and they add a certain panache post-gig!

When you get home
Lay your costume out to dry/air out. Hang your veil back up so you can avoid ironing it.

Got any vital tips I missed? Let me know. 🙂

I don’t know about the rest of you, but I always go through a few weeks this time of year where I want to curl up on my couch with my cats and my tea and pretend the world outside doesn’t exist. Since I tend to recover before we even hit the solstice, I’m currently theorizing that, as a non-morning person, the changing of the clocks deals a shock to my system that it takes me a few weeks to recover from. All of a sudden *WHAM* I lose a full hour of daylight. I suppose I should count myself lucky that I’m not among those who feel this way all winter.

The point being, it’s high time I posted something.

A little while ago, one of my students asked me for advice not just on what material to practice, but *how* to practice. It’s certainly something I’ve thought about myself, for my own dance sessions, but I’d never really gathered the bits of thought together into a coherent body. This post finds its seed in my email reply to her; I’m indebted to her for asking the question. 🙂

Many beginner videos are geared more towards the teaching of technique than structuring practice, and often the more advanced ones only add drilling. Time in class is usually spent this way as well. So what to do when you are practicing on your own between classes/workshops/etc? You’ll want to make sure you start with a warm-up and end with a cool down, but what goes in between?

Technique
My students hear the phrase “muscle memory” from me all the time. I can’t overstate its importance to a dancer. Often in class, a workshop, or with a video, we work on a move until we “get it” intellectually. But that isn’t enough. To be able to incorporate it into our dance we have to absorb it at a level below that, so we can fire off the move without have to think about how it is done. That requires practicing it over and over, beyond just understanding it. I recommend both spending time in front of a mirror seeing how it looks, but also some time not watching yourself and just paying attention to how it feels. Then try putting on some music and playing with the move, getting a sense for how or if it fits in to the song you’re listening to.

I also like tackling new moves frequently in short bursts – I think hammering away at a move for 45 minutes does little beside create a wall, something of a mini-burnout. Try practicing it for 15 minutes before switching focus to something else. Also, those little 2-5 minute “practices” dancers are known for sneaking into grocery lines, moments alone in the elevator, waiting at the bus stop? They work. When I worked in an office I used to repeat whatever new technique I was working on a couple of times every time I went to the ladies’ room. I found those mini-bursts of practice really helped advance my dancing.

Drills
Drills help with gaining and maintaining that muscle memory, but they are also important for building and maintaining strength and endurance. OK, you can shimmy – how long can you sustain it? How solid are your moves en releve after a month’s hiatus? That’s what you gain from drills.

But there’s more to dance practice that the moves. Dancing isn’t just a demonstration of technique.

Musicality
Just listening to Middle Eastern music frequently will help with dancing – play it as background music or in your car – you don’t have to concentrate on it, just absorb it into your subconscious so you start to get a feel for the rhythms, mode changes, etc. The more you listen, the more familiar it feels – you can feel the beat rather than counting it, learn the breaks in the well-known songs, and get that sense that you know what is about to come next even in a piece you’ve never heard before, because you’re familiar with the way the music is structured.

Interpreting the Music
People will tell you to shimmy with the qanoun or oud, move your hands with the nay, hip drop on the drum. Those are great guidelines, but it’s not dancing unless you understand why – unless you feel it. As a dancer you are interpreting the music; that’s your job. In practicing your ability to interpret the music, you should listen to it and see what it tells you to do. Try different moves out to see what feels right, and what looks right in the mirror. If you’re not sure what works, pick a move and try it out. Didn’t work? Why – too percussive for the music? Not dramatic enough? Use that answer to pick a different move, and try it again.

Improvisation
This is the tough one that makes many students cringe, but to me, at least, this is the heart and soul of Oriental dance. There are a number of exercises for practicing improvisation, such as:

• Choose one default move for the song. Whenever your mind goes blank, go back to that move.
• Create yourself a short list of moves you can use – maybe three. You can use them as creatively as you’d like, but no other moves. This helps in avoiding that feeling of being too overwhelmed with choices.
• Play with which moves transition well into other moves. This is an important skill for building choreographies and combinations, too. I find with newer students it works best to start out with transitioning between different flowing moves rather than traveling or percussive ones.

Improvisation is also tough if you haven’t already gained a feel for the music. 😉

Putting it Together
Are you going to have time to do all of the above every time you practice? For most people, probably not. I tend to structure my own practice around how much time I have, what my short term goal is, and what my mood is that day. If my current goal is, for example, to improve my veil work, I’ll spend a little time on any new veil techniques I’m trying to learn, followed by some improvisation with veil to challenge my creativity. If I’m going for stronger shimmies and hip work, I’ll likely spend most of my practice on drills to strengthen my legs and obliques. If I’ve had a rotten day, I’ll probably put on some karsilama and step-hop and whirl my way around the room.

No matter what I’m working on, I always find a little time at the end of the practice just to let loose and have fun. Practicing your love of the dance is important, too!

Questions? Comments? Let me know.  🙂

I’ve had ideas floating around in my head for some time, for an article about bellydance and “sexiness”. I recently had a conversation with local dancer Mahsati about exactly where _is_ the dancer’s line between appropriate and inappropriate, which coalesced some of these ideas nicely.

I often say the dance is sexy the way an evening gown is sexy – that isn’t its primary trait, and it shouldn’t seek to be sexually provocative. The best Oriental dancers are unafraid – unafraid of their bodies and their personalities, and allow both to shine through. Some sexiness shines through as a natural result.

Unfortunately, early on in the U.S. the dance gained a reputation for being a dance of seduction. For those of you who haven’t heard the story of Sol Bloom, there’s much to find on the internet. The short version – Bloom brought Middle Eastern dancers to perform at the 1893 World’s Fair, but no one was buying tickets to see his ethnic dance show. Bloom coined the term “belly dance” to shock and titillate Victorian-era society (understand, at this time “leg” was a vulgar word, never mind “belly”), and according to some reports began refusing to sell tickets to women because the show would be too much for their delicate sensibilities (the female dancers didn’t wear corsets! The scandal!) (They _were_ however, wearing full, body-covering clothes – the typical midriff-baring costume worn by most dancers today is another product of Western Orientalism and not traditional at all). Bloom’s marketing shift worked like a charm – tickets sold like hotcakes. Unfortunately we’ve never recovered from the reputation or the ridiculous name…

Back to the present: since some patrons expect a provocative dance of seduction, some dancers cater to it (both here and in the Middle East). In the short term it gets them more jobs and more tips, plus, in the U.S. at least, the gratification of sexual attention and approval from a culture that tells women they need to be sexy to be of any worth. I think in the long term they damage their own reputations, though, and the “more jobs” they get aren’t the ones I’d want. I wish I could just say those deliberately provocative dancers can do what they like, not my problem, but they perpetuate a stereotype about the dance that hurts us all. (I’ve seen this example given many times: if you see a stripper in a nurse’s costume you don’t assume all nurses are strippers. But Oriental dancers do not get afforded the same consideration. Thanks again, Sol Bloom.)

So where the heck is the line? I’ve been dancing in restaurants for about a decade now, and I’ve learned that there’s no simple answer to this one. A great deal of it is cultural context – for example, older Armenian and Persian women tend to try to tip you right in your cleavage. From an American perspective it sounds icky, but they do NOT mean it that way – it’s meant as a compliment and sort of a show of sisterhood – you’re representing women and as women they think you are doing a good job. It’s very hard for me to explain, but if you experience it you’ll see what I mean. But Americans get the wrong idea when they see it, and Arabs think anyone who accepts tips in the costume is a whore. And some Americans just won’t let go of their preconceived notions about bellydance, and no matter what you do they are either offended (if they disapprove) or treat it like it’s all about sex. Our own North American culture equates “sexy” with “sex object” to the point that some people are just blind to the fact that someone who is comfortable being sexy isn’t necessarily offering herself (or himself) up for your consumption. Therefore, if it’s sexy at all, it must be _about_ sex. *sigh*

Speaking of tipping, I always consider my audience. Greeks and Armenians expect to be able to tip you in costume, and I don’t have a problem with that in an established venue. In fact, sometimes they are quite insulted if you don’t allow them to tuck a bill into your hip belt – they mean it as appreciation of your dancing and nothing else. But I don’t allow cleavage tipping – it sends the wrong message to folks who aren’t familiar with the culture. In other types of restaurants where the clientele isn’t almost uniformly Greek or Armenian I discourage tipping in costume at all – tips can be showered over the head, Arab-style. This way no one gets mixed messages, and the overall atmosphere remains classy regardless of your cultural background.

But tipping is just one example of the whole issue. Much of the time, it’s simply a dancer’s facial expression that makes the difference. The same move with a joyous expression has a totally different impact than when performed with an I’m-so-sexy face. Costuming is also an issue. Personally, I try to keep my costumes to what I consider tasteful; I don’t generally show too much leg (not that I mind leg, but I want my audience watching my dancing, not wondering whether they are about to see my panties). I try to avoid too much cleavage. But, how much is “too much”, what is “tasteful”, are also both cultural and individual judgments.

And that’s what makes this so complicated for dancers here: the line we walk regarding cultures. If an Egyptian girl is dancing in Egypt, she really only has to worry about Egyptian standards, which are already ingrained in her since she _is_ Egyptian. An American dancing in Egypt has to learn those standards very carefully, but they still are the ones that apply. But dancing here? We are of one culture, and we have to balance the standards of that culture along with multiple others – both those of the art we are performing and the members of the audience we are performing for – all in the same performance much of the time! That’s a difficult balance.

I’ve seen raging debates break out about this online, but I just don’t believe there is a simple, cut-and-dried answer. I think there are some dancers, some costumes, some behaviors that are so far over the line that we all can agree they’ve gone too far. But I can’t pinpoint that line, and I don’t think anyone else can, either. I think a lot of people take a Potter Stewart approach: “I know it when I see it” but, while I think we all have that gut reaction at some time or another, it discounts cultural bias. The line is varied and fuzzy, and we all have to find our own way.

A student of mine emailed me a little while back to tell me that her new sensei was interested in having me come to do a demo at his dojo, and talk a bit about any relation between bellydance and martial arts. I studied Parker-style kenpo for some years, and this topic was of interest to me – I see a number of parallels between martial artist and dancer.

Subsequent conversations with the sensei turned up that this was a miscommunication – he wanted me to come see a demo of their classes at his dojo. Apparently he saw his new student’s dance teacher as a potential sale…  My student – a lovely and insightful woman – was disappointed; she wanted to hear about those parallels. Most of what I have to say on the subject is about approach, philosophy, and state of mind, not similarities of the movements themselves. I thought to myself, I may not have a room full of captive martial arts students to talk to, but I sure as heck have a blog.  🙂

Practice Practice
In both arts, the first step is to practice a move over and over again again until it enters “muscle memory” and happens as naturally as breathing. Pay attention to the move; note how it feels internally, execute it slowly, break it into its component parts. Then repeat it. Don’t just execute it a few times until you “get it” mentally – repeat it until you absorb it fully, without having to think about how it is done.

Alignment is Key
Both arts, done properly, involve a deep attention to the internal – which muscles are engaged in the torso, where is weight placed, etcetera. These things, often not visible themselves, are the foundation of how powerful a move is. If you aren’t harnessing the power of the muscles of your waist, your punch will lack force. If you aren’t engaging all your abdominals, your undulations will lack depth and fluidity.

Surrender to the Moment

“A good martial artist does not become tense, but ready. Not thinking, yet not dreaming. Ready for whatever may come. When the opponent expands, I contract. When he contracts, I expand. And when there is an opportunity, I do not hit. It hits all by itself.”
-Bruce Lee

I think of this quote frequently in terms of improvisational dancing. When the music calls, I do not move. It moves all by itself. Dancers respond to the music without conscious thought the way martial artists respond to opponents without conscious thought. Practice is the time to think. Once you hit the sparring ring or the stage, you have to let go. In both a performance and a fight, if you have to think about how to execute a move, you’ve already lost.

The trend I see of marketing dancers, gigs, venues, with unsupported superlatives bothers me. “Boston’s most sought-after bellydancer” – really? ‘Cause I don’t remember giving anyone _my_ inquiry or booking statistics to compare. “Boston’s most prestigious ___ restaurant” – Truly? When it just opened 6 months ago, and doesn’t seem to have the popularity, quality, or reputation of ABC restaurant in the same genre? How are we calculating these things?

I get that people want to attract people, to communicate that something is good, worthwhile, special. But when non-subjective superlatives are used, I find it off-putting. It comes across as exclusionary. It makes me feel that someone’s ego is at stake, that they feel they have to believe that they are most popular, respected, authentic – whichever superlative they’ve chosen – regardless of whether any facts have been gathered or what those facts tell us. And that they choose to view me through the lens of competition rather than as a fellow artist.

Maybe other people don’t value generosity of spirit so highly as an artistic trait. I dunno. So, leave me a comment – do others feel the same, or am I just old-fashioned?

I’m Canadian. I’ve been living in the U.S. for many, many years, but the early foundation of my upbringing, that shaped how I see the world, is Canadian. In a lot of ways, Canadians aren’t that different from Americans. But in some ways, we’re closer to European. For me, one of those ways is the association of the word “cabaret” with with a place that’s rather sleazy…

This is common in Europe in the Middle East. In Morocco’s “Dancer to Dancer” interview with Oberon (http://www.casbahdance.org/dancertodancer.htm) she says: “…in the Middle East and the rest of the world, a ‘cabaret’ is a low class dump, a dive — like the whorehouse dive in the movie ‘Cabaret’.”

Shira has a longer commentary on the term in her article on dance styles here:
http://www.shira.net/styles.htm#Overview
(My only beef with her “styles” article is that it doesn’t mention Turkish Oryantal :D)

I find American dancers are often quite surprised to learn that the term “cabaret” is unsavory overseas. I personally am not offended by the use of the term, but for myself, I’ll stick with “nightclub style”.

When you hold the Office of the Dancer, you are the most important person in the room.

No, I’m not off my rocker. Dancers struggle with this, I think, especially when we are new and inexperienced. We tend to feel less important than the audience or patrons, the musicians, the event organizers and club owners. And many of them like to keep us feeling this way – they get to feel more important by making us feel less important.

The flipside of this are the arrogant dance divas, who feel like they are always the most important because of who they are. And that’s not what I’m encouraging either, but I see it far less often than dancers who feel less important and don’t command the respect the Office of the Dancer deserves.

It’s like the Office of the President – when you are the Dancer, you are the most important person in the room not because of who you are, but because of the job you are doing. From the moment you make your entrance to the moment of your exit, you are holding the Office of the Dancer. During that period, all focus should be on you. The musicians are there to back you up. The club owner is there to facilitate your show. The audience collectively is more important, but each individual is actually less important, because you are there to be the focus and entertain everyone. The show belongs to you, and as the Dancer you have every right to ask musicians for something, ask the staff to move something, ask an audience member to stop doing something “so the audience can enjoy the rest of the show”. To command respect as the Dancer is to show respect yourself for the Office. You don’t want to disgrace the Office by allowing others to disrespect you, any more than you do by being a spoiled prima donna.

It’s very easy to be intimidated by musicians and club owners who are older and/or more experienced than you. If they are any good, they will support you out of their own respect for the Dancer’s Office. If they aren’t, just remember – they may or may not be older/wiser/more experienced/more skilled, but they are not, at that moment, holding the Office. You are. Honor it.

This rather dreamy image comes courtesy of one of my students, who attended my show at the Athenian Corner this past Saturday. The little boy looking up at me had us all charmed…