A Case for Spontaneity

There has been a lot in the news lately about the resurgence of belly dancing. Just this past month for a local 11:00PM news broadcast, the story headline that they ran all during primetime was: "See How Ancient Exercises are the Exercises of the New Millenium." They ran a feature on belly dancing, fencing, and martial arts. Quite a bit of time was devoted to the belly dancing.

This feature was on the heels of a wonderful article in the New York Times, July 27, 1999, talking about how exercise studios are offering belly dancing as an exercise option, another article in the New York Times, July 31, 1999, which was an interview with a young female composer who found herself unfulfilled in a male-dominated profession, and who found her true spirit in belly dance, and an article in The Boston Globe (North Shore section), September 5, 1999, which featured women from various professions who have turned to belly dancing for exercise and fun.

In my own experience, I started taking belly dancing as an exercise class. Each step was taught to the point of perfect execution. In so doing, the muscles involved were worked vigorously (even if the step, such as a figure eight is, in itself, a quiet movement). Posture was paramount. Isolations were practiced and ingrained to the point that a dancer would think nothing of shimmying with her hips, while executing the slowest "snake arms" imaginable. No self-respecting belly dance student would say she couldn't do belly rolls - in both directions, with or without a decent belly shimmy to accompany it. Floor work, which burned and built the thighs, was de rigueur. Backbends, which strengthened the back, as well as made it supple, were a part of every lesson. I felt then, as I do now, and have told my children: You cannot have the joy and pleasure of playing a symphony if you do not spend hours with the drudgery of practicing the scales. Learning those steps to perfection opened the way to the joy of dancing with (seeming) abandon.

All this was not diametrically opposed to learning the spirit and joy of the dance. Middle Eastern music (Egyptian, Turkish, Greek, Persian, etc.) was used for all of the dance moves, and if you were lucky enough (as I was), a great deal of knowledge about Middle Eastern culture, cuisine, and traditions were learned along the way. In my case, I was also welcomed into the families of both my early teachers, one Egyptian, one Armenian. When a teacher, even if he or she has no first hand connection to the Middle East, can nonetheless flavor the lessons with cultural tidbits, it dearly enhances the entire dancing experience.

All of this opens up the issues of how belly dancing is taught, and ultimately, at what point a dancer is ready for the stage. I have found an alarming trend in teachers teaching choreography as the main instrument for teaching dance. While choreography has its place in a fabricated presentation, such as for a dance troupe, or for a single dancer demonstrating a specific dance, such as the guedra or Khaleegy (Saudi) dance, it is often taught to dancers of all levels, in lieu of specific steps, and devoid of the joy of a dancer using her own creativity in following the spirit of the music. On the one hand, we could argue that putting together a dance so that the student doesn't have to worry about what steps to use, frees a dancer to enjoy herself. On the other hand, we could also argue that if a student is so busy counting out the beats and the steps, the dancer is actually robbed of the freedom to experience passion, spontaneity, and personal interpretation. It would be a boring world, indeed, if there were only one way to use words in the dictionary. And it is a boring recital indeed, watching students who have all learned from the same teacher that relies on choreography - even if no two students use the same music.

I have my students - whether they have come to me primarily for the exercise or to learn the dance - learn the steps, then start to string them together. I let the student decide how the dance is to be danced. I don't put my words into their mouths; I don't put my dance into their bodies. When a student is totally lost as to how to put together a dance I will take a piece of music and show how perhaps, 8 counts of a walk forward with a hip twist, 8 counts with a walk back, then a grapevine for 10 counts, then a spin, will fill the space. I do it only to make a point - that the student has the resources within her own knowledge and ability to create a dance. I would never assume that my way of doing it is the only way. Nor would I ever assume that my way of doing a particular step is the only way. I might say to a student that it's not the look I am going after right now, but that it might be legitimate way of doing the step after the student learns what I am looking for. If the step I am trying to teach serves a purpose better than another (let's say in the way a shimmy is done), I will explain why it works better. Not just that it does. If I prefer doing a step a certain way, it does not make it the only way to do it.

Especially, now that belly dancing is experiencing a revival, it is extremely important that we re-examine how to put our best food forward, and which foot to put. There will be lots of calls to studios and private teachers, with people looking to do belly dancing for exercise. Although doing a fast-paced choreographed routine might have a person break a sweat, it is too much like aerobics, even though you will be using Middle Eastern music. It's easy to teach a choreographed dance to students. It is rote. It is passionless. It is detached. I urge teachers to break free, break apart the choreography and examine each step. Ask your student to become aware: "Where does the left foot go, the right foot? How are the arms held? Which muscles do you feel in your back? Where do you feel it in the legs? Can you isolate each and every part of the body that you use? Can you move your torso separately from the hips? The arms separately from the head?" Then take each step: Have your student use it in a large way, tight way, fast or slow way. Put it to Turkish music, Egyptian music. Have you taught your student to identify all the different types of Middle Eastern music? This is exercise. This is hard work. This is the joy of belly dancing!

The issue of study goes to the issue of performance. There is something to be said for having a "baby belle" dance in a show that is advertised as one which is promoting new dancers. But there appears to be a very strong wave of new performers who have learned steps only in regard to choreography, and who have not learned the steps with precision, variations, or rhythmical link to the music. Costuming - whether show biz glitz or tribal - can be up to the dancer - but in any case it must be of a professional standard. I have, in my many years, but mostly of late, seen dancers that have extremely sloppy execution of steps, cannot dance rhythmically to the music selected (and especially if it is to a live band), have poor posture and stage presence, and whose costuming is abysmal. Fine for a recital, where it is acknowledged that the student is still in the process of learning how to dance and perform. Not fine for a performance in a nightclub or restaurant (except, of course, venues which are specifically showcasing new dancers), where you expect the end product of that process. There is a place on stage for new performers (and, if you ever let me corner you I'll tell you a hilarious, but just awful story of my first "professional" experience) and I applaud their enthusiasm and courage to get on the stage. But, please, teachers, do not send them to the stage with only choreographed experience and no manner of stage presence! And to you experienced, professional dancers- PLEASE use live music when available. You have so much to offer but it is totally lost with a choreographed, taped routine. We are robbed of your joy, your spontaneity and your passion.

Even acknowledging the various styles of dance: American Nightclub, Tribal Fusion, Egyptian Raqs Sharki, and in full support for the tireless dancers who are working to make this a "legitimate" dance form, we cannot lose sight of the fact, that as a whole, this dance is different from all other dance forms. What sets belly dance aside from other forms of dance is its allowance for freedom of expression. It offers the audience a mirror into the passion inside the dancer. Our dance is different from other forms of dance in that there is room for this expression - it provides the dancer with a window to show her own spirit, her own joy, and her own creativity. Each dancer has something of her own to offer. That belly dancing allows this personal expression is a gift. Dancing with personal spirit and style is a privilege that Middle Eastern dancers have, and every time we copy a teacher's or performer's choreography instead of using personal choice, we lose a little bit of that freedom. That is not to say that we should not take what a teacher or performer has to offer and incorporate it into our own dance. What I am opposed to is the wholesale swallowing of choreographed routines.

Just as above, when I said I would never presume my way of doing a step is the only way, I would never presume that my way of teaching and preparing dancers to become professionals is the only way to do it. I totally welcome discussion with all teachers, performers, and students, as to the pros and cons of choreography vs. individual steps and creativity, as to when a dancer is ready for her first performance, etc. Please engage me in a (spirited) conversation when we meet. Do not steer clear if you don't agree with me. After all, it would be a pretty dull world if we all thought - or danced - alike.

Copyright 2000 - Amira Jamal
 
This article has appeared in The Middle Eastern Dance in New England Newsletter January/February 2000.
 

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