Friday 14 February 2014

A Wonderful Weekend of Wicked Workshops!

The Paulette Rees-Denis workshop at The Dark Side Studio
I am excited about my upcoming weekend of bellydance goodness!

Workshops are a great way to not only learn new skills, but refine technique, focus on specific technical issues like arms and hands, and even get to know different instructors and teachers. I personally love the fact that Toronto studios are very active with a range of fantastic workshop topics geared to all levels and styles of bellydance.

This weekend in particular will be two workshops focused on different props. Personally I love props. Not all dancers do, but I adore the extra element a well-placed prop can add to a performance. It's also a great way to showcase your skills, since adding any kind of prop to a dance routine shows a level of expertise in being able to not only keep your feet and hips moving, but keep fabric afloat, canes spinning, swords balanced and zills singing.

Not an easy task, but something that certainly can be mastered with lots and lots (and lots!) of practice.

Prop workshops are a great way to find out what ones you might like to work with further. I have also found most teachers are receptive to requests for specific props or technique you might be interested in learning more about or working on intensely, so never be afraid to ask! Also be sure to check out studio websites, as well as Bellydance In Toronto and the Ontario MEDance Calendar.

Tomorrow - Saturday, February 15th, the lovely Ruyah is teaching a fan veils workshop at Dragonfly Studios. Fan veils are relatively new to the bellydance scene being Oriental in origin rather than Middle Eastern. Nevertheless, they are enchanting to watch and are beautiful when handled by an expert:


Sunday, February 16th is the second installment in Roula Said's zill workshop series at Om Laila.

Roula and zills are synonymous. As a musician she plays them with a grace, skill and style that make grown dancers weep. They are literally an extension of her body. This winter she's offering a series of three different workshops that introduce dancers to how to integrate zills into different styles of music. January's workshop featured a pop choreography and this weekend is Baladi. So far as I know there is still room in the March 2nd drum solo choreography workshop, so if you want to study with the master, be sure to get in touch:


Happy Heart Day everyone!!!!

Monday 10 February 2014

That's like asking permission to breathe!

This is something I know I've talked about in the past but for some reason it keeps coming up in conversations.

I have no idea why.

It's a question that gets thrown my way every so often, and no matter how many times I have fielded said question, it still manages to surprise me.

Actually, it's two questions, but they both relate to me being a bellydancer and the acceptance of various members of my family supporting this rather than disowning me or having me stoned to death.

Apparently, I was to seek permission prior to deciding to take up my chosen art form.

The question is basically the same in both instances, but the parties from whom I am to seek blessings for my choice are twofold.

The question - or really the statement - is:

"Your husband let's you bellydance?!"
"It's okay with your family that you're a bellydancer?!"

Let's start with the spouse issue.

Welcome to the 21st Century. In this day and age women are no longer chattel. I am not a posession of my husband any more than he is owned by me. I can vote, go out without an escort, own property (well, co-own as it were) and even yes, be a bellydancer without getting anyone's stamp of approval.

Let's be very clear here, people; my husband does not let me do a damned thing.

That is not to indicate that we don't discuss what I do with my time or that I don't check in with him before booking new classes, workshops or shows in case there is any conflict with our mutual plans or schedules. That's not asking his permission; that is simply being courteous to the man I have chosen to share my life with by indicating that his own separate plans, schedule and yes, opinions, figure prominently into my life. We are married. We share a home, two fur babies and a slew of joint expenses so indeed his thoughts are indeed a serious consideration in everything I do - not just dance.

Heck, he frequently forgets to tell people that I do, in fact, have a regular day job (well okay not right at this exact moment but in general I am employed) and just tells people that I bellydance. That includes his family, friends, colleagues and random cab drivers - kid you not.

We have a mutual respect for each other as well as a deep, passionate love. But again, please, let me stress this one more time:

My husband does not let me do things.

The second question involves my family.

My family is Jewish. Apparently, this necessitates a problematic concern when it comes to being what is also commonly known as a Middle Eastern Dance Artist.

It's that darned "Middle Eastern" thing that really seems to get people's jaws dropping.

I have a bit of news for those of you not up on your current world geography:

Israel (though I am personally not Israeli) is in the Middle East.

Yeah, I know. Kinda caught you off guard there, didn't I?

My presumption is that since bellydance is more commonly associated with Arabic cultures and music is that this should, therefore, cause immeasurable grief for my family.

Alas, it does not.

My mom thinks it's pretty darn cool that I bellydance. She tells all her clients and friends that her daughter is a bellydancer and is thrilled that I have embraced the love of dance she herself possesses. She hoped when she first started me on the path to dance as a child that I would make it a part of my life. While she herself was never a bellydancer, she is, nonetheless, proud that it's what I do.

My dad simply can't understand why I'd want to dance to Middle Eastern music. That's because every time he hears it, all he can think about is being in shul (synagogue or temple for those not familiar with the term) because it reminds him of the Canter that sings the prayers during service and he always hated going every Saturday for service.

So please. Let's finally put this topic to rest. I dance because I choose to dance. I bellydance because that is my chosen form of dance and I am proud to be a bellydancer. This is who I am, what I am and where I fit into the world. If you don't like it, that's your funeral, not mine.

Friday 7 February 2014

Oooooohhhhh...I Got The Bellydancing Blues!

Every bellydancer I know has experienced a bout or six of the Blues. They crop up at the most unexpected and inconvenient times and can last from a few hours to a few weeks. It's that horrible feeling that maybe you really aren't cut out to be doing this, that it's a waste of time. You feel like you aren't getting anywhere and never will. Everyone is better than you and no one thinks you're a good dancer anyway, so why not just give up?

I've had bouts hit me after shows I felt didn't go well and even after classes where I was sure all I did was flail about like an octopus out of water (and convinced that I looked about as graceful). I remember feeling the futility of my efforts when I was first learning to undulate, first held a veil and the first time I tried to balance a cane on my head. Watching my instructor and classmates gracefully go through the movements and swearing that I would never, ever be able to master <insert particularly testy technique issue here>.

The Blues are not limited to any particular level of bellydancer - they are an equal opportunity state of blah. Not only have most of us gone through a few phases of doubt and discouragement over our careers, but we've all had friends in the community go through it too. I've posted many an inspirational comment on Facebook for friends ready to throw in the hip scarf, offered hugs to dancers before, during and after classes or shows and sent more than one email reminding a fellow belly how amazing they truly are. Even dancer friends who are professionals and have been for years occassionally hit a bump in the road, as it were, and need to be reminded of their awesomeness.

A bad show or audition will usually do it for me. It doesn't matter that logically I know that not every performance will leave me with that I totally nailed it, and even if I did a good job there are days when I'm still sure I sucked. I've been in classes on days when my arms and legs are just not speaking and while I swear everyone around me looks like they are floating effortlessly across the studio I'm the awkward nerd in the back with two left feet and gangly elbows.

So how do I deal with the Blues and what are my two cents for others on the subject?

First off, I personally feel there is nothing wrong with a good wallow now and again. Taking a few hours or even a day or two to just sulk on the sofa with a tub of double mint chip ice cream and a really weepy chick flick is, I think, a healthy part of healing no matter what has got you down. Go ahead and feel sorry for yourself, cry a bit, whine to your fur baby, your partner or your best friend that the world of bellydance is a fantastical place of whimsy and grace that you will never fit into. It's okay. It's temporary. You will dance again!

The trick is not to let it last too long and get your body back in motion. My favourite way to kick myself back into the swing of things is to sign up to do a show. I find making myself commit to a performance really gives me the push I need to get up and get dancing again. Getting into the rhythm of selecting music, listening to it over and over, running combinations and movements and getting excited about what costume to wear and putting on a good dose of glitter always brings happiness to my world.

Even if I feel unmotivated and untalented, I go to class. Just being around other bellydancers gives me a lift, and there is nothing more healing than a good laugh combined with a good sweat!

Workshops are awesome too. Case and point: I had a 3/4 shimmy that sucked rotten cod. I had learned  from someone who (unbeknownst to me) couldn't actually 3/4 shimmy herself, so when I was in one of my first classes with Roula Said and realized my technique was way off base, I found a workshop with Zahira and 3/4ed my ass off for two hours. It not only fixed my technique but got me feeling great about the fact that I could do something when I put my hips to it.

And the old saying of "dance like no one is watching" is still a very valuable thing to remember. Feeling bummed? Put on some music, close your eyes and just move. Absorb the music into your mind and let your body go with it. Remember, we are not dancers because we want to be; we are dancers because we need to be.