Dance as Therapy

Most of you know the beginning of this because I write about it all the time...but my posts about Pratt have brought some people into interest in what I'm doing, as they are considering the same degree.  So here's my story and where I am, mostly for my own record.  (If you're only interested in the current part, look for the dashes and just begin reading there)

I started dancing in July 2003 (really dancing, instead of piddling about in classes that had to relate to theater).  I started with bellydance and was immediately hooked, taking two classes a week at Zanzibar and then in New York when I moved back to college for my senior/supersenior years.

I was highly depressed in July 2003 and seeking help for an eating disorder that I had developed in 2002 after years of Just Your Average American Eating Disorder (because we're all pretty disordered, aren't we?).  It had gotten really bad when I moved to Budapest for 6 months and was able to fully immerse myself in all kinds of self-destructive behavior.  By the time I came back to the States, I must have had body dysmorphia as well (as a part of the Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified), because I had absolutely no idea that I was quite emaciated, having left the States six months prior as my still-curvy self.  I was confused that, even as I gained some healthy weight in July and August, thinking I was back to me, my college friends were shocked when I returned to Bard.  I am relieved that I developed this issue at 20 years old as opposed to a full blown ED earlier in life, when I think it would have been harder to recover.  I am relieved that I was honest with my family and friends and asked for help in the beginning.  For several months, I really thought I was getting better, but I was actually losing weight because all I was doing was shifting my compulsive tendencies to new compulsions.  The bellydance started out as a way to cheat my therapist and pretend that I wasn't compulsively exercising because I was "dancing."  It turned out that I started to have to look in the mirror a lot more than I was ready for, and in seeing my movements in the mirror, I slowly had to admit to myself that I didn't look right.  I was way too small for my body.  There were several milesones along the way in the Bard College Bellydance Collective, and by the time I got back to Chattanooga in 2005, where I started my bellydance studies, I would jokingly tell people on the first class "I bellydance because it's cheaper than therapy."  At that point, I had left my therapist in New York and felt that I was doing pretty well because I was back to a curvy weight (though maybe overweight at that time) and was feeling pretty confident as a recent college graduate.  I had done my senior thesis in psychology on eating disorders and identity and felt like I had very consciously cleared myself of all my issues through approaching it academically.

In 2006 I was trying to help an art therapist find grants and drove through a tunnel one day thinking "I wonder if I could be a bellydance therapist..."  I put the idea away because I still felt like my abilities in dance of any kind were not worth mentioning.  At that time, I was completely obsessed with anything happening as a student and was craving any performance opportunity I could get my hands on.  My compulsive exercise had faded, but my compulsion to master bellydance technique had replaced that drive.  There were times that this was healthy and times when it was a darker side of dance for me.  I taught a camp for teens using dance as a therapeutic tool and began to see all the possibilities of using bellydance for something that would coincide with my passion for social work, psychology, feminism, activism, etc.  I tried to keep quiet about my interest, though, because I still considered myself a non-dancer, and all dance other than bellydance terrified me.  I tried a Modern class around this time and actually really enjoyed it and kept up okay, but it was terrifying to be out of my comfort zone.  I took Nia for some time and got more into yoga and trying to branch out slowly, bit by bit.  But everything was always about whether or not it would support my bellydance habit.  

In early 2008, I applied for a job as a psych tech at an eating disorder unit.  I wanted badly to get back into working with eating disorders, but I didn't get the job and stayed at the Partnership working with victims of family violence.  In the interview with them, I sheepishly admitted my own history and how I had dreamed of using bellydance therapeutically, especially in working with eating disorders.  They looked at me kind of funny and asked if I knew that dance therapy was something that you could really do as a degree.  I said I did know that, but I didn't really.  I think I had heard of it but didn't consider myself a dancer, so I had a hard time adjusting to the idea that it was a possibility for me to pursue.  Their suggestion of it made me reconsider, as if they had given me permission to explore this idea.  However, I was really attached to my new marriage, my friends, my family, and my relationship to the studio where I was getting more and more responsibilities and opportunities.  In fact, I was trying to collaborate with Juli Downum on figuring out a way to offer bellydance in a more accessible, therapeutic way, but I didn't know what I was going for.  I knew I was ready to quit my job in order to be able to not be on call during my dance classes and be able to teach when Juli moved.  I did quit and found a new non-profit job with more pay and no on-call requirement.  I signed up for the yoga teacher training and mentally committed my life to movement.  A few months later, I think in the fall, I met Melissa Meade while teaching one of my early bellydance classes at Zanzibar (I had begun subbing in 2006, teaching a 3 person class in 2007, and then got hired to teach a few weekly classes in 2008---that eventually was reduced to just one night a week).  We talked about the healing power of dance, and she told me that she was in a program for Dance/Movement Therapy and that it was a distance program.  My jaw dropped because I had no idea that there were distance programs because all the ones I had found were in other states.  Around that time, I received a letter from myself that I had written six months prior in a team-building exercise at my former family violence unit job.  The letter was a drawing of me bellydancing in front of a group of women in a non-profit, my depiction of "dance therapy" as I knew it to be in my mind.  It was a letter telling me to pursue this goal.  

I got some information from Melissa and began hungrily researching what the requirements were.  As a psych major, I wasn't concerned about most prerequisites, but I was concerned about how the program asked you to have an extensive dance background in at least two forms of dance, one of them being modern dance.  I started researching modern classes that fall and landed in a few of Katie Kasch's Contrapasso classes, which I loved but whose schedule conflicted some with my bellydance evenings.  I became determined to get in this program.  I had been lusting after the Chattanooga State dance program that summer, when it had just begun.  But I had recently accepted a new day job and couldn't justify going to school at that time.  When I found out about the modern requirement, I called up Ann Law and started explaining what my goals were and trying to figure out how to take her modern class.  Meanwhile, my amazing job at Signal Centers granted me permission to take a lunch at 9am to take her modern class down the street (at that time we were finding out that we were going to get laid off in the summer anyway).  Expecting modern technique, I was a little confused at first on what Ann was teaching because it was so different from everything I had known in our very technique-driven studio.  I quickly fell in love with her approach and work, and by the time I realized that it wasn't technique, I didn't care and quit my job a month earlier than our lay-off date so that I could enroll in all of her classes as well as the aerial dance classes.  Irritatingly, it turned out that my first day of school was the last day that anyone had to show up to the office, so I should have just waited to get laid off!  Oh well.  

Throughout that year, I would sometimes run into Melissa at eating disorder events and find out what she was up to---she was working at the same eating disorder unit!  It was amazing to watch what she was doing and see all kinds of strange little coincidences pop up.  Meanwhile, my father at some point got hired to work at the same place.  

All this was happening as I was opening up the Asala Center to begin offering Constructive Living and movement as a private practice, and then I found out that my teacher was moving and selling her studio.  I was in the market to buy it since I knew that my future was in movement, but I lost the opportunity and decided that I would have to focus on actually getting in to this grad program.  In retrospect, all things worked out, but it was a very confusing and difficult time, and I doubted strongly that I would be able to get in the program.  Meanwhile, I was completely in love with the work going on at Chattanooga State, and it was changing my views on dance and dance education forever.  I began to get into my teaching groove much more and began to explore opening up my performance repetoire outside of just dancing happy/silly dances.  

Ann hired Monica to teach more of a technique class, and I found that, yet again, I had a reason to continue taking everything I could at Chatt State (and wherever else I could get a class of jazz/hiphop/ballet/whatever).  By now, bellydance was still my main squeeze, but my movement explorations were no longer just for the purpose of expanding my bellydance abilities.  By now I was in love with movement for movement's sake.  

After taking a semester of technique classes from Monica and signing up for more in the fall of 2010, I decided it was time to apply to Pratt.  I felt that my modern technique still had a long way to go but was beginning to feel more diverse as a mover in general and decided to see what Pratt said.  After all, the worst they could say was no, and I had already committed in my mind to continue with modern until they or another program would accept me.  

I applied in October 2010 and couldn't come up for the movement interview because I had to teach that night (and it was very short notice for a plane ticket).  I requested to come in the next movement interview, which ended up in January.  Of course, that was the week that Chattanooga got entirely shut down due to a blizzard.  I could not get on my plane, and New York shut down pretty much as well.  Eventually Pratt contacted me and realized that I was applying for March 2011 (a fax mishap in their office cut off that part of my app), so they rushed my application, and I submitted movement improvisation on youtube as well as some performance clips from Mirabai.  Performance was not what they were interested in, and when I spoke to the director of the program in the Barking Legs parking lot, it turned out that modern technique was not what they were interested in, either.  It turned out that improvisation was much more applicable to dance therapy, which is what I had been practicing with Ann for over two years at that point.  I got accepted into the program on the phone and was given some time to decide whether or not I would join this year. 

-----------------

Just a few weeks before the program was to begin, I was accepted and confirmed my enrollment.  

I didn't truly expect to get accepted because of my patchy dance background, so I had signed up to take Rachel Brice's 8 Elements Initiation certification and General Skills of American Tribal Style with Carolena Nericcio in April.  I went to ten days of grad school in Brooklyn in March, came home for about ten days, and left to be certified in 8 Elements and General Skills for ten days.  I returned to non-stop performances every weekend (MANY performances every weekend) and finally began to breathe sometime in May.  Then on June 12, I left town, not to return until over a month later.

For a year now, I've been nursing a left hip injury which has changed my dancing, my psyche, and my way of interacting with the world.  I had been hoping that being away from my intensive daily movement regiment would help give the hip some time to heal.  If it doesn't heal by the end of this month, I will seek medical advice.  While being away from my daily movement routines is healing for my body at this time, it brings up old eating disorder worries about weight gain.  I have had to be careful about this time away and how I relate to it.  This program is experiential, which means that we are experiencing therapy-esque environments as well as engaging in a practicum where we teach kids every morning.  This program pushes you beyond your known capacities in an intensive fashion, which is rather the way I like it.  However, it certainly brings your issues up to the surface to be addressed.  So here I am, nursing a movement injury, nursing emotionally-loaded skin infections that are coming up due to stress (I believe), and nursing my old ED wounds by being put in an environment where I can't keep my movement routine up the way I like nor eat the way I like because of what's offered in the stores here.  

It's exacly what needs to be happening right now.  

But where will this lead in terms of dance?

It's really interesting/odd/anxiety-provoking/refreshing etc. to be using movement only as therapy this month. I have been performing a lot for the last couple of years (too much at times), and this is a chance to shift my purpose of movement to something more internal.  I'm really curious to see how this experience will alter my performance self, and I'm a little nervous but interested to see how the lack of consistent technique training will alter my body's abilities for when I return.  Perhaps it will be healing to my injury?  Perhaps I will lose something I wanted to keep? Perhaps I will lose something which isn't me and allow for something new to emerge?  I'm interested.

The movement classes here began as Laban focused.  We have been learning how to describe and analyse movement behavior from a Laban perspective.  I am loving that because I have had an academic crush on Laban for some time---thanks, Marissa Nesbit ;)  I adore my Movement Behavior instructor Ted Ehrhardt.  He is a kind LMA and dance therapist who teaches using a very kinesthetic teaching style.  The Laban concepts are fascinating, though it's interesting to try to apply to bellydance, which is so torso-oriented that the Laban work doesn't seem to always resonate for what we do.  But I love asking Ted trick questions about mayas and shimmies!  I am really happy to have another set of classes with Ted next year.

When we got here to New Hampshire, I began studying under Elissa Q. White, who studied directly with Marian Chace (a Denishawn dancer who somewhat serendipitously created the field of dance therapy), Bartenieff, and all sorts of amazing people.  After just five days of studying under Elissa, I feel like I have a MUCH more realistic grasp on what dance therapy can be.  We are learning how to lead Chace groups in a tiny class of only four students (two second years and two first years---same as our class with Ted).  This is a skill I'll be using in an internship in the fall, and I'm happy to have the kinesthetic experience of having to do it here with direct guidance (though it's quite scary).  The more I read about dance therapy, the more I think that reading about it doesn't do much.  It's a non-verbal experience, and I don't think that words quite do it justice.  However, I am enjoying my readings.  

This weekend I am writing a paper about my work with the kids this week, which has been an amazing learning experience already.  I am blessed to be working with an awesome co-leader who has some really fantastic ideas for movement as well as art (which is her focus).  We are being co-taught by an art therapist as well as a dance therapist, both of whom have great input that I've been able to try on.  

We also are in class we call Group, which is similar to a group therapy session...but not therapy.  It's completely impossible to describe, but we're being led by the directors of the art therapy and dance therapy programs, and I am loving the experience of having them lead the group...even if it means that I cry about seeing mountains.  (I was homesick).

This program is highly integrated between art therapy and DMT, which is really interesting for me.  While I'm in my comfort zone with movement, I get to experience what art therapy might really be like by trying on art therapy experiences as someone who doesn't do visual art.  It's tweaking my creative brain and helping me to learn a lot about myself and others and groups.

You'll see in my photos a lot of weird art that I or my group has made---I am not a visual artist, but it's been really fun to play with materials and feel like a kid again.  We do a lot of art and are slowly getting more movement into our classes (there are only 2 DMT students and 10 art therapy students in our year).  

If you're one of the ones interested in this program, see if this description leads you to any questions you can ask me, and I'll be happy to try to answer.

Dance Blog for Chattanooga State

It's January 1, and my body hurts from wearing heels and staying up too late last night.  I find myself wiggling as I type, trying to move out the tension.  I am picturing the first time that Ann had us use kinesthetic awareness work on the balls and how lovely it felt to use my own body weight to massage out muscular tension.  I enjoyed the process so much that I bought tons of playground balls and bring them into my yoga classes sometimes to try to help people experience the relaxation that I felt first using this method.

Ann's voice is incredibly soothing, and she artfully guided us through a process of lying down on the ground to first notice the way our body was naturally falling on the ground.  Where did we feel uneven?  What areas were tense?  Then we used the balls to gently work out areas of tension.  It was the most luxurious dance class I had ever taken---we just took our time, for over thirty minutes, paying attention to our bodies and taking care of them.  By the time we were done, I was like putty on the stage floor, totally relaxed but ready to move and dance and create.

Right now, feeling unbalanced from a late night, too much fun, and high-heeled boots, I'm wishing that the dance classes started tomorrow so that I'd have the clean floor space of the theater to roll around on and get moving!  Dance at Chatt State addict that I am, though, at LEAST I am prepared with a crate full of Spongebob and Spiderman balls.  After I finish typing, I'm heading straight to the floor to roll around!

on fusion from the other side

Poster for Journey Through Time and Space

The style of dance that I normally do is tribal fusion .  Some choose to call it bellydance, and others don't like the associations that that name brings.  Fusion is a funny thing---I've been told the following things about "tribal fusion," among other things:
"I love tribal fusion because it can be anything!"
"That's not tribal fusion because it doesn't look enough enough like bellydance."
"Those tribal wackos are performing just theater, not anything authentic."
"Is it fusion or CONFUSION?"
"Don't let it become DIFFUSION"
"You should not call it fusion unless you've actually studied the dance form you are fusing with bellydance.  Otherwise, call it 'inspired',"
"It's not really tribal fusion because it's a solo..."
"That's burlesque."
"That's modern dance."
"That's hiphop."
"I like it, but I'm not sure it's bellydance."
"That made me horny."
"Tribal fusion has lost all sensuality."
"That's gothic/dark fusion."
"I loved seeing your cabaret piece!"  (said regarding my biker mustache piece?)
"With your cabaret background,  ___x_____"  ?????

Further down this complicated path, you can check out this interesting take on Tribal Fusion and all things "tribal" here:  scroll down to Tribal Fusion if you want to open the can of semantic worms.   And yet another great article...by Asharah


The first time I heard the word "fusion" brought into my dance training was in 2003.  I was a wee baby dancer in the Bard College Bellydance Collective in Annandale-on-Hudson, NY.  I was told that two of my idols were about to perform what they could only laughingly describe as "bellydance-flamenco fusion."  I had only heard "fusion" in terms of food places and never really got what it meant on menus.  At that stage in the bellydance community, "tribal fusion" wasn't as prevalent a term, at least not on the East Coast---The Indigo was just forming, and the internet was not as large a part of everyone's lives yet, so the coasts didn't necessarily know as easily what each other was doing.  My first teacher originally Andrea didn't need to really emphasize what type of bellydance she taught since she was the main teacher in town, but she drew from cabaret, tribal, jazz, ballet, flamenco, etc.  My other early teacher Allegra taught unique movements and choreographies that I would probably now call "Tribaret" but felt quite traditional and not particularly "fusion" based.  We were a unique group in that many of our costumes had a homemade cabaret feel, we danced traditional-feeling choreographies, and our music was distinctly Classical Arabic 99% of the time.  On the other hand, we were a gigantic group of subversive, feminist, and funky people that identified with the "tribal" sense of community and liked the earthy aesthetic in movement and often the garb. We were also poor college students, so we made anything we wore.

Then Victoria and Irina performed one of two dances that changed my life in December 2003.  The dancers had both been studying both bellydance and flamenco, and their piece was strong, sensual, earthy.  That dance and Allegra's jaw-droppingly beautiful sword dance struck a chord in my healing anorexic body and mind. That night's show convinced me that I was getting this "woman" thing all wrong and needed to investigate what happened when one would eat like a normal person.  I ate some soup and drank wine with the ladies that night and felt warm and full and womanly.  A stark contrast to hours earlier, when I said to my emaciated self "it's okay to eat the fat free fro-yo today because you're supposed to be proud of your large belly and you're going to dance it off anyway.  If you don't dance it off, the gym is open 24-7." When I later saw the photo of that "large belly," I was horrified and was happy to embrace the warmth of those dancing sisters with their beautiful natural bodies, smiles, and laughs.

"Fusion"---whatever it was, was something I liked from then on.

Because of their flamenco training, Victoria and Irina were making an actual fusion, if you define the word the way Amy Sigil does.  Amy would argue that most dances in the bellydance community are not "fusion" but "inspirations."

I didn't realize that what I was being taught in Chattanooga was "tribal fusion" until a few years later, when the fusion became more obvious and our distinction from American Tribal Style became very clear as I learned more and more about the different genres of bellydance.  

I remember being taught my own flamenco fusion piece and wanting so very badly to nail it.  It was hard and a different style than I was used to---I wasn't nailing it, and the feel was not the delicious strength I remembered in Victoria and Irina.  However, the politics of dance at the time and my own frustration with myself made that dance strongly cathartic to practice, and I remember connecting to my own anger through stomping and clapping and thinking "well no wonder flamenco emerged."

There were times that the fusion element lost me---while I liked to watch other people dance it, I wasn't feeling my first introduction to jazz or hip hop fusion.  I felt like a big dork and just wanted to shimmy and maya all day long.  In 2006 I took my first modern dance class since junior high at 9:30am from Elizabeth Longphre on a Saturday.  I was completely out of my element and was the only person there except for someone who was incredibly well-versed in modern dance.  I flung myself through it and eventually seemed to catch on in my body---but my brain wasn't sure what was happening.  As much as I liked the movement, I was scared to go back as a beginner.  I didn't return to modern outside of bellydance stylings until 2008 when I found Katie Kasch and began dabbling with her classes at Contrapasso.  Then I dove into Ann Law's Dance Program from 2009 until present and started taking anything I could get my hands on, thanks to the empowering nature of the Chatt State Dance Program. 

During my period of not taking other dance classes and focusing entirely on bellydance, I was still fusing other elements of dance into my bellydance, as happens with "tribal fusion."  The funny thing about tribal fusion in the way that I've experienced it is that emphasis is often placed on the technique of our very specific "basic position," muscular isolations, texture of the isolations, aesthetic arms, moving in time to the music, etc.  I found myself intrigued when I heard ballet dancers talking openly about "good technique" and assuming I knew what good ballet technique is.


As far as I can tell so far, good ballet technique and good tribal fusion technique are fairly contradictory.  My specific tribal fusion training has me NEVER turning out my feet, ALWAYS bending my knees, ALWAYS "tucking" the pelvis (though i hate that term b/c it's misleading), ALWAYS coming from a foot position which is between first and second parallel in ballet.  Meanwhile, as I've been working on Journey Through Time and Space, I've been having to fight muscle memory and weaknesses to turn out my feet, straighten my knees, release the pelvis more than normal, and find new feet positions.  Meanwhile, they are actually paying attention to my FEET, which isn't exactly the emphasis when your feet are half the time covered by giant skirts and pantaloons---should we be more aware now that TF costuming is more and more incorporating pants and shorts and whatever we feel?  YES.  (Thanks to Natalie Brown for her helpful noting of that fact in the Devil in the Details workshop).  The angles that we're using in Journey have subtle differences to angles we would use in tribal fusion to emphasize our hips---Journey's use of floor patterns, unison and contrast, and all these choreographic choices are things that are often never addressed or analyzed in tribal fusion.  Traditionally, TF uses a great deal of unison, and our very movement vocabulary can limit us to a lot of stationary work.  I giggle with delight when I recall Zafira's joke subtitle of a workshop in Atlanta, "Space: How About You Use It When You Dance?"


As tribal fusion dancers, or any form of bellydancers, we need to see what it looks like when our movement vocabulary is fused with other forms of dance FROM that other form of dance.  In tribal fusion, we have become comfortable taking whatever movement we want and melding it together with the muscular isolations that we have deeply imbedded in our muscle memories.  The danger is, of course, creating Con-Fusion or Dif-Fusion in the process.  What happens when the techniques that we are utilizing are not immersed in our bodies?  What does it look like to a jazz dancer or modern dancer when we utilize a jazz or modern combo from our frame of reference?  From our different "basic dance position" even?

Meanwhile, what happens when our own movement vocabulary is utilized from another frame of reference?  From another set of "technique" rules?  One day in rehearsal Cornelius was talking about how we all needed to be working on our "technique" and I found this interesting b/c no one was attending bellydance technique classes, though we're using some bellydance-inspired movements as well as African, Indian, etc.  It seemed obvious to everyone else that the technique we were supposed to be working on was ballet.  I realized at that moment that it's an interesting thing to assume that one dance form's technique needs drilled while the other dance form is okay to mimic.  In tribal fusion, we're often so focused on making sure that our head doesn't move while we pop and lock, that our hip bones are even when we do horizontal figure 8s, or that our shimmy only happens exactly where it's supposed to happen, that we often miss out on investigating the root of our movements that we're fusing.  It makes me wonder what our dance looks like to those with other dance backgrounds.  Is this part of why we feel like we haven't elevated our dance form?


So when it comes down to adding Western dance elements into our Middle Eastern vocabulary, where do we draw the line with our "technique?"  What happens when you take two forms of movement and smush them together---whose technique do you keep for ease of movement?  The original movement's source?  The fused element?  Who is to say which technique wins in importance?  Of course, I'm biased, and I am a bellydancer at heart---so to me, to see proper bellydance technique as I have been taught it is key.  But if we are to elevate our dance form, I think we need to begin to show equal respect to the dance forms from which we are taking. 


Many of us have worked long and hard to challenge the stereotypes of bellydance and to prove that moving your hips doesn't have to be viewed as sexual.  We have sweated for hours to perfect our precise muscular isolation techniques, and then when someone still views our movements as sexual, we get indignant and angry.  All that work to be able to balance a sword while doing a 4/4 shimmy layered on top of x, ya, and z!  Well, as lovely as that work is, what happens when you look beyond muscular isolation?  If you blur your eyes to what's happening in your torso---how long can you watch what you're doing?  Or 3 hours of similar movement?  (and yes, I laud my teachers for being a breath of fresh air in terms of unique use of movement---this isn't anything that they didn't say but has been percolating in my mind since I began this journey with Journey)

Similarly, what happens when your concept of "technique" is challenged in the creation of something new?  Mary Gaston put this so well watching our work tonight.  She said that it was fascinating to watch another dancer's interpretation of the music (specifically a drum solo)---she said "Lauryn and I have to work within a set of rules when we choreograph, but since you don't know the rules, what you have created is incredibly unique."  In Journey, the audience will see choreographic choices I wouldn't normally teach, like hip isolations executed with wide legs or an untucked pelvis.  As a dancer, I have had to let my preconceived notions about my dance form to allow myself to grow and experience a new art form.  You will see Middle Eastern inspirations, African inspirations, and Indian inspirations, all mixed together with ballet, modern, and jazz.  Meanwhile, the elements of choreography that we often miss in our tradition are executed in stunning visuals of contrast, level changes, floor patterns, and a completely different musicality.  Is this any different from what we do in our fusing of our movement vocabulary with whatever we like aesthetically from other traditions?  I don't know---you tell me.  Come and see.

Cooking the Raw Dance

Photo by Celeste Sneed

After ditching my Soften dance at both the Learn2Bellydance Holiday Hafla and at Mainx24, I decided it had to happen at The Fringe Benefit.

Thing is, I had never finished it, even after Dances in Raw States helped me develop some ideas about a group ending.

Since it's mostly improvisation, with a very structured beginning, I called on the guru of improvisation for help---Ann Law.

Thus far, I've had a hard time figuring out how to bring structured improv into bellydance.  Our movement vocabulary has felt a bit like a prison, and yet structured improv seemed too broad until now to really incorporate.

Dances in Raw States helped me begin the process of trying to integrate, but meeting with Ann was like a magic wand of integration.  I am fortunate that I have been learning from Ann for almost two years at this point, so I would like to think that I get her language regarding structured improvisation.  She's such a pro at creating dance structures that we were able to meet for 30 minutes, and at the end, I felt like I had the road map that I needed to complete the dance for Friday.  Or rather, complete the dance ON Friday...by dancing it.

The dance is not finished, and in dancing it, I realized even more clearly that I want a group of bodies at the end of the dance to fully complete the dance.  However, I think I can return to Raw States in February and revisit this dance, particularly if it becomes the dance that I use at Tribalcon if my beloved Mirababes are unable to join me, which is looking like a possibility.

Ann asked me all the right questions to help me clarify exactly what I was trying to convey with the end of my dance, at least, where it is right now.  She helped me identify hooks, like focus on the hands, which grounded me into the moment of the dance when I found myself on a stage much smaller than I had anticipated, with my floor pattern taking much less time than I had expected.  Instead of resorting to "the Lauryn dance," I tried to take my time and ground myself into the moment with the road map in my mind.  Hands. Giving. Touching. Feeling. Soft. Flow. Rolling.  Circular Pathways.  Stop and center yourself, look back where you've come from---you're done with that and it's time to move on.  Pause.  Take your time.  No need to rush, nowhere to be but here.  Hands.  Giving.  Touching.  Feeling. Feeling soft. Soft.  Soften.  Soften.  Flow.  Of course, there were moments of the Lauryn dance---way too much Maya for my taste, and why did turns come in as much as they did?  That wasn't planned but came out.  I still have yet to take up as much space as I want to.  But this was a step---a step further than the last time, and it felt much more present and much more intentional, so there's that.

Still---next dance I create will have to be a no-maya movement study.

It felt exhilarating to do that dance, and apparently it seems different from what I normally do, which is great.  Several dear friends picked up that there was a strong pop and lock element in the beginning which was reminiscent of certain styles that I don't need to be ripping off---but I am happy to say that they saw that the dance moved out of that style by the end of the dance.  That was a large part of my intention, because that style, while exciting to do occasionally, is not me.  I wanted to dance a dance of transition and softening and learning from consequences of pushing too hard or being pushed too hard.  And I'm still figuring out where that story ends up, so it's fitting that the end is the least clear part.

But I did succeed in dancing the longest dance I've allowed myself to dance without a prop crutch.  And is that audience-friendly?  Maybe not, but I need to get over my attachment to pleasing the audience.  It's not always about that, I am trying to tell myself.  And not being funny/happy has been the first step.  Not being pretty is another, and taking my damn time is another.

Improvisation---the good, the bad, and the ugly

The good:
12/3 Mary's Holiday Hafla
I arrive thinking I'll dance to one song.  I am feeling uninspired by the night, the song, my costume, myself.  Two dances before mine is to come, Wendellyn dances to my song.  She dances a beautiful choreography.  When she is done, I tell Mary, and we ask what to do.  I say to Mike, "Pick me a song off the cd and I'll just wing it."  During Holly's dance, he throws me some earbuds and I try for about 10 secs to listen to the music---sounds slow and pretty, but with Holly dancing, I can't get much else.  "That'll work" I say, and I have no idea if it will but trust Mike and trust improv, after having been doing it for a year straight in Ann and Amy's classes.  I had plans for the original song---plans to use the space, plans to limit hip movement in hopes of not over-mayaing or whatever, plans to try to feel an emotional thread that was already disappearing for me before I even stepped on stage.  But I let all those plans go, as I truly had no idea what was about to happen.
It was the most exhilarating dance I've done in a long, long time.  I was highly present---had to be.  I moved simply and honestly.  I didn't try to do anything crazy, though I accidentally ended up shimmying my way down to the floor (why is it that Mary's brings out these weird shimmies from me...last hafla, I started shimmying on one knee, which I have NEVER done before and should probably never do again).  Anyway, it felt amazing, and I was so glad that it turned out that way.  There were subtle moments of synchronicity that excited me, and there were moments of contrast with the music that surprised me in an interesting way.  I loved it.  Plus, I got a lot of kudos for doing that, which always feels good, right? 

The bad:
Mainx24 Wide Open Floor
I am totally bored of myself.  I'm glad I chose to go less risky, as suddenly I don't feel like this audience needs to see my raw dance.  But I am so very bored of myself and my movement.  I'm almost embarrassed, and yet I know that the songs are pretty and that I practiced moving to them and trying to take up more space and trying to push my comfort zone yet again.  Didn't feel like I pushed much.  Felt very "entertain"-y even though it was slower, softer.  I was not emotionally clear on what was going on as I was dancing, though I had tried to develop that idea better beforehand.  I think I was just tired after performing Thurs night and Fri night.  I don't think I cared anymore.  Someone whose opinion I greatly respect gave me praise, but I didn't feel good about the dancing and have this feeling she's just being supportive.

The ugly:
I'm ready to revisit the ugly dance.  I call it the ugly dance because I don't want it to have to be pretty.  I want it to be real, and real may not be pretty when it comes out.  It's my raw dance, and it's time to show it to my peers.  It's not ready yet, but maybe it can be closer by Friday.  Unfortunately for me, it seems as though un-ready dances are what I do...to make them ready.  This dance needs to end with more people in it.  There's not time for that.  For some reason, for this particular benefit, this dance has to happen.  It's gonna happen in some form or fashion, and I pray that I don't feel like I have to resort to the same old same old once I get there.  Maybe in an audience of bellydancers I'll feel more comfortable going there than in an audience full of those accustomed to more traditional Western forms of dance.  Ready or not, here we go.  Thank goodness I have a happy "entertain" dance to follow it and balance me out. 

A story of the songs:
October 11:  I bought Solace's Gorgon Days at Triboriginal.  I fell in love and planned to dance to the amazing "Never Does the Light Shine on Me."  When I ordered a costume from Medina, this is what I planned to dance in it.  I knew someone else would dance to it soon.  I wanted to have my love affair with the song.  It seemed a therapeutic balance between soft, melodic energy and sharp, staccato energy.

October 15: I am haunted by another song.  It is absolutely seducing me against my will.  NDTLSOM is exactly how long I want a song to be for me to dance it...this damn other song is over 6 bloody minutes.  But I can't stop listening.  The problem is, it's unbalanced in terms of sharp energy.  Too sharp---not what I'm trying to dance.  I keep picturing ripping off other people's popular styles, just to prove that I can.  Unhealthy, can't dance to this song.  Not now.  Maybe not ever.

October 17ish or so:  I read Asharah's blog, which reflects an understanding that you are drawn to dance a certain way based on your life at the time.  I start to wonder why my car dances to this haunting other song are so very sharp, so very ugly, so very robotic, so very not what I normally do.  I start planning to probably dance to Solace for Dance in Raw States.

October 18ish or so: I know why I am dancing in my car like this.  I know the things that are too sharp, and I know why I am drawn to this movement.  But I still can't dance it---it's too much like wanting to rip someone off.

November 1ish or so: I have conveniently lost my seduction song for some time.  I am beginning to worry about getting my costume in time for Nov 18 and 19.

November 8ish or so: I have been listening to the Solace song---it is still beautiful.  It's not doing what it did to me at first, though.  I can't find the other song.  I miss it.  I am starting to think that maybe I could go ahead and dance the dance without ripping anyone off.   My intentions about the rip-off have subsided, and I'm still aching to dance this dance.

November 11:  Still haven't gotten in the studio---absolutely resisting.  Found my song...and it moves me to almost tears.  There's no doubt which song strikes a more current chord.  But I obsess about editing the music and how to cut out at least 2 minutes of this song.  I decide to only dance on Friday, not rush on Thursday.

November 15:  Still haven't gotten into the studio.  I tell Monica about my troubles about my music.  She encourages me to go with the song that is moving me right now and to not worry about finishing or editing the piece, since the performances really are meant to be raw.  Ann agrees---maybe the audience can help you finish it.

November 19: I dance it, but I cheat.  I'm too scared after the first minute and resort to same old patterns, trying not to, but still jumping into them.  The first minute feels like what I was wanting.  The rest fades.

November 28:  Being encouraged to dance that dance again for the hafla...but I'm not sure if I can do it until the Fringe.  Maybe Mainx24.

Dec. 3:  No, I haven't edited that song yet.  I'll dance to my first love and give it a chance.  Rats, someone else is dancing beautifully to that song.  That song can play tomorrow.  Tonight is a new game.  Mike picks "Blind in One Eye," and I'm in love again.  I do not get depressed after this show but instead go to bed hoping for another high tomorrow at Mainx24.  I wonder if BIOE will treat me the same after the magic of the complete unknown is there.

Dec. 4:  I play "Blind in One Eye" on repeat in my car all morning and am in love.  I give NDTLSOM a chance in the spotlight, but I'm feeling cagey, so I use a veil and cover my belly.  It feels a bit forced, though in a comfortable environment.  I return to BIOE for a sword piece, and it's not like it was last night.  I like the presence of the sword in front of this audience of some strangers and some friends...I like the protection of a prop.  But I feel like I'm doing the same dance that I've done every day of my dancing for the last two years.  I receive words of praise later from someone I truly, deeply admire...but by the end of the day, I feel bored with myself and depressed.  Am I killing my dance by over-listening to my songs?  I play later with improvisors and dance completely non-belly, and it feels good and freeing and yet also like a foreign language and a little naked.  I cut my toe and bleed all over the floor because I can't not jump on the wall barefoot and fair to realize consequences exist.


Dec. 7.  When I pushed play again tonight, it was still there.  Not in the middle of the song, but for most of it.  I finally emailed Stacey my music, completely unedited.  I suppose I'll dance my dance unfinished again.  I suppose I might walk off stage and have them fade it.  I wish I could bring in other dancers for the end, but no one is used to jumping in and letting me use their bodies for organic movement.  Perhaps I'll surprise myself and dance the whole piece.  Perhaps it won't be the end of the world...perhaps it will bore my audience to tears. 

Thoughts on Raw Dance 2

I'm failing less at my improv goals each time I try them, but I still feel like I am failing at the end of the day.  I don't mean this in a self-deprecating way, but just in a fact of not meeting a goal.  I did meet one goal tonight---no Ghawazee 3.  Next goal, unfortunately, will need to be no Maya.  I think I have met my no shimmy goal in the past (not tonight b/c I planned two deliberate shimmies), but I need to watch the video.  I'm trying to strip myself of my go-to moves and see what my body does.  But that's just a surface layer goal to help me break out of habits.

For the ways my body and mind work, though, it seems that the best solution right now is to continue dancing them and hopefully failing less each time.  Hopefully these will mostly occur in appropriate environments and not when I'm attempting to represent bellydance as an art form.  Because right now, I'm not wanting to call what I do bellydance, when it's an improv experiment.  But what comes out is what my body knows.  The way my body works is that it has to deeply, deeply know a movement before it decides that that movement is okay to occur when adrenaline hits.  The way my mind works is of a procrastinating neurotic.  I'm apparently quite resistant to rehearsals with myself.  In some ways, I don't mind this, but it ends up making my progress along this exploration slower.

Tonight's performance was just yet another indication that I need to be in the studio and videotaping myself much more...and watching the video.  I have been putting off watching a performance I did in August since...August.

Things I'll take with me to the next Dances in Raw States night are the following:

It's interesting to hear responses from people who are not bored to death with bellydance.
It's interesting to hear responses from people who ARE bored to death with bellydance.
It's interesting to hear responses from people who don't know what the tribal fusion genre is.  If for no other reason, hearing honest feedback from new viewers to fusion is rather insightful.
It's interesting, as always, to hear responses from dancers whose dance goals are separate, maybe even opposite from my own.
It's interesting to hear responses from dancers who know that our goals are different and who inspire/support my hope that there's a way for me to integrate better.
It would be interesting to hear what a room full of bellydancers had to say...but then again, I wouldn't have BELLYDANCED so much if I were in a room full of bellydancers.  I know it b/c I watched my own comfort zone take hold when I meant to go to another space.  I was definitely afraid to commit to anything more Western in origin knowing that there were so many modern/ballet etc dancers watching me.  Is my disinterest in strict bellydance in front of bellydancers right now indicative of a similar fear of inadequacy?  Maybe.  Probably.

I apparently will change an entire dance based on one person I see in the room.  (I do the same thing when I write---I won't write for myself, but I will write publicly.  But I will censor myself if I know who is reading when I put it out there.  You'll notice I won't tag anyone and will just passively put this into the world and then act surprised when I see someone respond.)  I found out my Dad was coming to Amberetta's big March show, and I threw a sword into my dance based solely on that knowledge.  It wasn't supposed to be a sword dance---I made it make sense to me at the time, but I have spent my life listening to Tori Amos---I can make ANYTHING make sense out of nonsense.   I was scared of dancing for over 3 minutes without a prop and with subject matter that was not based on entertainment value.  So I threw a prop in to try to distract my Dad from what I was saying---maybe he'd be so impressed with the damn sword that I'd get a positive response.

About the dance itself, since I didn't get to talk about that and need to put it somewhere:

The working title is/was Soften.  It was inspired by my stupid injury and the things that this injury is telling me---versus my resistance to change.  The song is very industrial and powerful, which makes me want to dance in a sort of goth style.  However, that's the thing that needs softened a bit.  So I began the dance very sharply and specifically not pretty.  My arms were limp and my facial expression was probably more blank than I meant.  When it comes down to it, I have a hard time projecting the really negative emotions that I was meaning to project.  I feel a bit bad for the audience if I do that.  Like I am yelling at them.  I also specifically did not to a happy or funny dance.  And that confused at least one audience member---a year ago, I would have been more concerned about this, but really, I'm trying not to stay in my comfort zone of entertainment, so this was kind of expected (I was just glad someone SAID it).  I failed a bit in that I tried to pretty up what I was doing, once I was doing it.  My goal was to evoke the kind of sharpness in life that gets me in trouble and to then go through a process of softening it into more integration and balance.  When I was attempting to choreograph, this came out very divided---like bellydance versus modern.  I had a feeling I wouldn't be able to maintain the end of the dance with only my modern movements since a) I wasn't choreographing them and b) they aren't my go-to movements or even in my body very well.  So on one of my many, many car-eographing moments today, I chose to get rid of the linear transition and allow the dance to organically alternate between the two, after the beginning, which I had set in stone pretty well.  Lovely thing about improv---the thing that was LEAST choreographed in the beginning, before I started chickening out, was probably my most true moment.  Perhaps the dance was worth that one surprise moment for me...but I think I started chickening out right after that moment of truth and began acting.  Today I was speaking to my dear cousin, who said that when she gets up to speak in public, she starts lying out of nervousness.  When I was done dancing, that thought occurred to me---how do I stop from lying in my dances?  Often I can start off authentic, but by the end of the dance, I feel like I'm doing the Lauryn dance and have left my meaning and structure behind.

Tonight I felt that coming on, and so I chose not to end it.  I just turned around and stopped and told the audience I was done and didn't know how to end it.  The responses were helpful---makes me think I need a music edit, which makes me groan because apparently I'm also quite tied to responding to the music for my every move.  Apparently not all dance is based on that, and for someone who is not a musician, this is both freeing and terrifying.

A goal that was met: I tried to slow and soften my movements when the music was telling me to do something else.  A goal that was NOT met: in those moments, I often responded with isolations.

A goal that was met:  I followed about 3/4 of my intended floor pattern.  A goal that was NOT met: the other fourth of my intended floor pattern.

A goal that was met: I did let go of some of my standard traveling moves.  A goal that was NOT met:  I didn't travel as much as I wanted to, in light of losing that crutch.

A goal that was met: I did turn my back to the audience at least once.  For some reason, in choreographing this piece, it felt incredibly confrontational and like I had to keep constantly looking forward.  But my brain said that that was going to be boring and that I needed to plan directional changes.  I wasn't sure if I'd actually go through with it, until I desperately needed a moment to recharge and touch something, so I went and touched the curtain.  A goal that was NOT met: doing that with a sense of purpose beyond desperation.

A goal that was met: I hit 2 of my intended "power spots."  A goal that was NOT met: I did not make it to one when I was really wanting to hit it.

A goal that was met: I had some level-changing, which was something my brain said that was needed to keep things varied if I had to be dancing for over 3 minutes.  A goal that was NOT met: I did not have a sense of presence or purpose that I wanted in those moments.



There might be more...but I am going to bed.

Thoughts on Raw Dance 1

I remember watching Terpsichord as a high schooler and being mesmerized every time, particularly when they would perform student choreographies.  I was fascinated by the idea of my peers moving bodies around in space and tell them what to do, when to do it, and how to do it.  And from that, this beautiful rehearsed unison would emerge, or moments of shocking contrast.  I wondered about the process---when there's so much going on onstage, my teen mind wondered, how in the world did they describe what was supposed to happen with their bodies all at once?  (This was coming from someone who couldn't count music, so the whole thing was even MORE mystifying)  I very rarely could have told you what I thought the dances "meant" but I knew which ones moved me and which ones didn't speak to me in that moment.

When it came to discussing all other forms of art, I felt fairly savvy.  I couldn't tell you what poems meant sometimes, but I knew the English language well enough to pick out similes, metaphors, and puns and understand whether the piece spoke to me or not.  Most art, theatre, or language is something I can discuss quasi-intelligently.  For that reason alone, I am grateful for my arts education.

But dance?

When I began bellydancing, it was a desperate cling to something that was saving me from a big mess in my mind.  I just took as many classes as I could and never looked back.  Years later, I'm in the process of trying to choreograph things and have the same sense of wonder that my teen self did watching Terpsichord.  I am a psychologist at heart---that to me means that whatever I'm doing, I'm curiously looking into what's going on beneath the surface.  Can I articulate my guesses?  Sure, but I'm much more interested in the human being that created the art and what was going on for them.

When I began taking Ann Law's Dance Composition class, it was as if someone gave me a Rosetta Stone to viewing dance---through creating improvisational group dances based on careful composition and choices, I started gaining the type of relationship to dance that I've been craving for years.  Does it mean I can "read" a dance like a short story right now and give you an articulate response?  Not necessarily.  But I feel like I'm learning the language and beginning to try to ask for directions.

For this reason, I wanted to check out last night's Dances in Raw States without the distraction of needing to perform.  I wanted to be an active audience member---in this showcase, you are asked not to just sit in a seat and let the dance happen while you mind possibly wanders in to wondering if you left the coffee pot on.  You're asked for specific feedback and are asked to articulate it then and there.  I have no idea what will happen tonight---there aren't rules, and whomever comes will dictate the direction of the evening.  But if it's anything like what happened last night, I highly encourage all parties interested in the arts to attend.  Or if not this one, check out another in a few months.