Growing, Changing, Moving On...

From my folkloric days with Banat el Sharq

One of the best things about bellydance is how it continues to evolve and change. While there are a range of traditional styles to explore - including all the different types of folk - modern fusion, tribal and Gothic bellydance have taken the art in new directions.

When I started out, all I really knew was cabaret - which I have been doing for years - and tribal fusion a la Rachel Brice. I had no real understanding of what was in between, and since I was intimidated by Rachel's gooey, sinuous grace, I became a cabaret dancer.

Several years ago I went on a quest. Feeling the mad urge to take my dance to another level, I left my first teacher and began to explore. At that time I was trying classes at a number of studios and gave tribal fusion a shot. It didn't come easily or naturally to me which I found frustrating, so I stuck with cabaret.

Then I fell in love with folk. That led me to become a member of Banat el Sharq for four years, immersing myself in Saidi, Ghawazi, Beladi and Nubian styles. I loved the costumes, the bouncy, flirty steps and the amazing ladies who were part of my troupe.

Last year was one of major change. After doing Mayada's Pro Bellydancer Course, I found I wanted to work on some specific areas of my technique and that took me travelling again to studying with a few new teachers at new studios.

Yet one other thing I noticed was that the kind of music I wanted to dance to was less than traditional Arabic and the dancers I wanted to watch were less than traditional cabaret dancers. I was finding that the technique I had was in need of some refinement and development to go with the music I wanted to create to, and so I opted to go back to fusion at The Dark Side Studio. No, the moves did not suddenly coming any easier, but I did find I was more interested this time around and really willing to focus and do the work needed to bring the movements into my body.

Very much like the habits I had to break going from ballet to bellydance, so too did I have habits to break going from folk and cabaret to fusion. New muscles, new ways of thinking of how I made my body move and new ideas came flooding in. In many ways I am starting over again but at the same time I'm simply adding new stock to my repertoire of movements for creating new dances.

It's hard to start again as a beginner, and I admit that there is some frustration when I can't nail a move right away. "I've been doing this for over 10 years," I whine to myself, "I should be able to do this without a problem!" Yet no matter how many years one has danced, when going to a new style you do become in many ways a beginner again.

I explained it to my mother by saying it would be like having been with The National Ballet of Canada for many years, and suddenly moving to the Alvin Ailey Dance Theater and expecting to just jump right in.

I'm starting an exploration of a new side of me and it is scary and exciting at the same time. There will always be a place in my world for cabaret and I will continue to do more traditional bellydance when the venue and the spirit moves me there, and want to continue improving my comfort with props such as veil, fan veil cane and zylls, but I am also eager for this new journey into another side of my bellydance self. She is a little darker, a little more expressive, and looking for different stories to tell. It should be an interesting time!

Guest Article on Bellydance in Toronto

As a follow-up to my recent Basic Black Intensive course at The Dark Side Studio, I wrote an article for the Bellydance in Toronto website - enjoy!

http://www.bellydanceintoronto.com/

Music, Music, Music!

IBCC Emerging Artists Stage Solo, 2012

Since I believe it's never a bad time to think about what to dance to next, I have been spending some energy going over my music collection to figure out what pieces I want to perform to at some upcoming spring and summer events.

I've usually got some ideas in my mind at any given time of pieces I'd love to dance to - one of the hazards of being a bellydancer, actually. I never can just listen to a song, I have to think "hmmm...is this something I could work with?" or "OMG this would be GREAT with cane!" You get the general idea. Any song by any artist is fair game as far as I'm concerned.

I do try to tailor what I dance to to the event at hand. For example, I tend towards more upbeat music for Kensington Pedestrian Sundays since it's a summer, outdoor festival,  while I am inclined to do something darker for a performance at a Dark Salon at The Dark Side or more experimental if it's a student show like Dragonfly Rising at Dragonfly Bellydance.

I firmly believe you can bellydance to anything. With the right attitude and the right costume, any song is a bellydance song. I've danced to everything from George Abdoo and Djinn to Shani and Cleopatra, Medieval Babes and The Lost Fingers to The Doors and The Who and everything in between:

 

Boris the Spider at the Dragonfly Fantasy Hafla, September, 2013

To make sure I always have something in my back pocket in case a surprise opportunity comes up, I keep a list of songs I'd like to dance to on my Crackberry and add to it anytime a new idea pops into my head. Then, about once a week, I take a good half hour to an hour to just play songs from that list and improv to see what comes out. Sometimes after playing with a piece for a while I realize it just isn't working for me, so I move on to something else. Other times something really "clicks" and I keep it on the back burner and wait for the right time to pull it out.

I also have pieces I've done in the past that, as I have improved and grown my technique, have decided to revisit and try again either from another angle or to see what else might come out now that I've had a few more years or a few new workshops or classes with a different teacher under my belt. Usually it's because I really loved the song in the first place and really wanted to dance to it right then, then go back to it later because I become convinced I could do more with it.

When I start to seriously think about getting into choreography mode, I put the piece (or pieces as the case may be) I am currently working on on repeat on my Crackberry and listen to it/them constantly until I feel like I know every beat, riff, phrase and subtle nuance. This is when I get the most interesting reactions from normal people because I start dancing along while I'm out walking, waiting for the streetcar or on the subway platform. I'm sure most of you can relate to the looks other people offer up when they can't hear what you're grooving to!

I'm always open and looking for new and exciting music to work with, so if anyone has bands or songs or anything to share, feel free to pass it along! I love hearing what other people are into and what makes their world work!

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!!!!

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.

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.

Mirror, Mirror

Anytime I get a video or YouTube clip of a performance I have done I always need to take a deep breath before I hit play. In part this is because I really do hate to watch myself on video, but the other is the issue of not knowing what I'm going to see. The thing is, while I do have a pretty decent personal space to practise in, I don't have a great spot to record my rehearsals to watch myself before I perform.

Hence the anxiety.

There is then that sigh of relief "oh thank the gods it looked okay!" as well as the occasional "what the f*ck was that?!" as I sit gritting my teeth as mini me dances across my laptop.

See, while I don't thrill to watching me on video, I have come to appreciate what I can learn from watching myself. I have gone from simply viewing video as a sublime form of self-torture to the learning tool it actually is. I've even used it get feedback different dance teachers so they can get a feel for what I am having problems with or what they see that I may not.

I am proud of myself that I can now look at video with a critical eye rather than a pained expression, but that, alas, does not remedy my situation of how to record my practise.

So I've done what I think is the next best thing - I got a full length mirror for my rehearsal space so I can see what I'm doing while I'm working on improv, drills and choreography.

While - to date - I have been pretty lucky that generally what feels good when I'm working on a piece translates into good performance, there are times when I want to try something new, like the piece I did in December at the last Dark Salon at The Dark Side Studio. I was very nervous because I was going outside my regular comfort zone of upbeat, cheeky and playful into the somewhat darker and moodier side of my persona:

Fortunately I was pretty happy how it turned out and the feedback I received when I saw the clip, but it was that performance that made me realize I could possibly cut down on performance anxiety and feel more free to try new stuff if I could see it before I performed it. Example, I can see where I need to work isolations, finesse arm and hand positions or improve on how I use the space I am working in.

Thus the mirror now standing in my den.

I am finding it so far a great help, particularly as I drill new technique and try new music. I am planning on going moody again for my upcoming Dancenette performance in May, but that doesn't mean I'm giving up my sassy side!

My lovely new mirror!