In a previous post, we looked at The True Cost of a Performance. In this installment, we look at the incomparable Delilah Flynn's question of:


Delilah's Answer:
"8PM show. 

I have to eat my last meal by 3:00 PM or I feel sluggish and bloated. So I have to plan my day accordingly. Open suitcase and gather costume pieces. Iron veil if necessary. Make sure I have costume, make up, zills, evening dress, shoes and stockings in the early day so incase I have to run an errand I have time. This takes about 30 minutes somewhere in my day. 

I shower at 5:30 and begin putting on makeup and doing hair at 6:00-6:45 and get dressed and load the car with costumes, sound system, props. 

Arrive at the gig to get acclimated at least 30-40 minutes in advance so I leave the house at 7:00 if local. The show is at 8:00 give or take a few . Usually shows go on a little late if the audience is still arriving . 

By 9 :00 I should be finished and need 30 minutes to cool down before stepping out in the Seattle rain. How ever the audience usually wants to meet the dancers so going out and saying hello is a professional curtesy.  So I probably am in my car at 10:00 realistically.

I estimate it takes me 30 minutes pre-plan during the day then 5pm-10:15 pm is my time investment for 1 nightly gig. So around 5 1/2 hours including driving and parking. If I have to set up sound lights or rehearse and do a sound and light check, then it could be all day long! If the show has 2 sets or is a theater show it could be all night too! 

The time it took to procure costumes, music, equipment, design and print business cards is another time investment and is why we don't work by the hour but by the gig. When dancers get $60-$100 for a gig it's not star wages or anything near! 

So even the lowest dancer on the totem pole should get paid I think. If the club or gig is resistant then perhaps you are deluding yourself as to your worth as a performer. This is where the stuff gets so sticky. "But I want to dance!" Yup...I know. Find a hafla, festival or recital show. So if the club is at least paying 1 dancer is it different? Maybe. How much are they paying her I suppose would be the next consideration. How many tables are in the room. Has business increased because of the show? Is the club owner advertising the show or is he just figuring your friends will come in. Ugh! Are the other dancers announced as students with a professional representation of belly dance getting paid. Maybe thats fine. have you spent all this time getting ready for your gig and there is still no audience. If the club owner has no investment in the show he won't advertise or get the word out (believe me restraunt owners are exhausted). He will rely on YOU. So then it's even more of your time! "

I wanted to share this interview/article from several years ago in which Paulette was interviewed by a local NW dancer, Oberon, on iShimmy.com


There was always a fateful connection for me with Paulette...a reason why I was drawn to her, that was not simply geographical proximity. And those who know me will see how much we speak with the same voice on so many issues. I have always been inspired by how she has found such articulate, positive ways to channel her passion for bellydance, and all the nuances of artistic ethics and community building. She has always been, and continues to be, a mentor to me on so many levels, and I loved re-visiting this article and be reminded again why I am so proud to call her my original tribal bellydance "Momma". I hope you enjoy it, too!

On Shira's tribe over on tribe.net (no, tribe isn't dead!), she referenced an article on Gilded Serpent in which another dancer wrote with a fair amount of disdain about those who rally behind the idea of retaining historical and cultural elements of bellydance (what is often termed "The Bellydance Police"). You can see the discussion, and link to the article, HERE. Shira follows it up with a great analogy, which I thought would be nice to share over here. So without further ado, I give you Shira's take:

"Let's say I write a 17-line poem with each line containing somewhere between 8 and 34 syllables and call it haiku. Now, the "poetry police" killjoys would tell you that such a poem does not conform to the properties of haiku (3 lines in length, with 5 syllables in line 1, 7 syllables in line 2, 5 syllables in line 3) and therefore is not haiku. Now, this poem may well convey my vision, my passion, my joy, and a completeness in my quest for beauty. These things would certainly qualify it as "poetry", but they don't qualify it as haiku.

But if I enter that poem in a haiku writing contest, should I expect to win? Should I expect journals that specialize in haiku to publish it, simply because I have chosen to declare that it is haiku, even though it does not contain the properties that people well-versed in the form would recognize as haiku?

If I start teaching classes in how to write haiku, should it be okay that I encourage my students to write any poem of any structure they please, all in the name of their vision, their passion, their joy, and a completeness in their quest for beauty while still calling the end result haiku? 

I would argue that no, it may all still be POETRY, and it all may all be worthy of being read, but there is a certain basic set of properties that must be met before you identify it as a specific genre of poetry. It still deserves to be written, and shared if the poet wishes to share it, but ultimately there should be truth in labeling."

http://danceadvantage.net/2010/08/11/define-dolly-dinkle/

I had never heard of a Dolly Dinkle before, but it sounds all so familiar when compared to complaints and opinions voiced in the bellydance community. All artists have the same concerns...

One commenter wrote:

"Dolly Dinkle schools offer no technique or curriculum. Their schedule often reflects whatever is hot at the moment- lyrical, contemporary instead of ballet; all hip-hop; etc. 

Dolly doesn’t teach vocabulary or history of the dance forms. Ballet is not the only genre with this! So many students don’t realize hip-hop and breakin’ have a vocab and history! 

A well-rounded education: technique, history and vocab PLUS improv, choreographic, and performance opportunities makes a great studio."

Another poster commented:

We have a responsibility as teachers to keep advancing the field and ourselves through continuing education.  Since there is no standard in dance education, teachers have such varying levels of training, education, and certification. But as we all know, there are fantastic teachers with no performance experience, no degree, and no certification, and there are others who danced with ABT, have college degrees and five page resumes and are horrible teachers. It’s the teachers who continually seek knowledge and collaboration in the greater dance community who avoid pigeon holing themselves into a “Dolly Dinkle” atmosphere. 
For me personally, I think it comes down to motivation. When you sink into a routine and just “teach what you were taught”, that’s a tell-tale sign of my definition of a Dolly Dinkle. You have to continually analyze and assess: What are the needs of my students? What can I do to meet those needs? Is this a safe environment for my students? Is this a supportive environment for my families? Would I sign up my kids for my classes? It’s one thing to open up a studio with a concrete floor. Everyone has to start somewhere. But to ignore it for 10 years is quite another thing.This is fantastic! I think Maria made an interesting point about “teaching what they were taught.” We have a responsibility as teachers to keep advancing the field and ourselves through continuing education. The conference Nichelle is attending this week is a perfect example! Since there is no standard in dance education, teachers have such varying levels of training, education, and certification. But as we all know, there are fantastic teachers with no performance experience, no degree, and no certification, and there are others who danced with ABT, have college degrees and five page resumes and are horrible teachers. It’s the teachers who continually seek knowledge and collaboration in the greater dance community who avoid pigeon holing themselves into a “Dolly Dinkle” atmosphere.

And there are a couple other great comments in there as well.

What would you say is the mark of a good teacher? What were some traits of bad teachers you have encountered? And do you think there should be some kind of regulation? Why or why not?

When I first got together with a troupe, we were a democratic group, with no director. Everyone contributed music and costuming and choreographies to their best ability. There was one member who always brought really diverse music that was fun to move to, but it was never anything event remotely Middle Eastern or North African. Some of it we used for variety, sure. But when she kept bringing less and less appropriate music (by our opinion of course), I had to ask her about it. Her response was "I don't really like Middle Eastern music." And I had to ask her, "They WHY are you into bellydance?" And yet today, this is a very common sentiment...bellydancers who don't care for bellydance music. How does that compute?

While I am a big proponent of being able to play with lots of different music to add variety to your dance, particularly when we perform for mostly bellydance audiences (and who wants to hear Miserlou again), I would think one of the base requirements of being a bellydancer is listening to, appreciating, and dancing to Middle Eastern music. Otherwise, I would think any number of other styles of personal expression would make more sense: modern dancer, interpretive dancer, or world fusion dance is my favorite.

So before I make this sound like I am just judging other people and don't know of what I speak, I myself have also struggled with this topic.



When my first pro troupe was younger and trying hard to establish our own voice, we began venturing in a lot of different directions to seek unique inspiration. Some were closer to bellydance, and some were much further afield. Not just with movement, but the music, too, was getting further and further from bellydance. We were having fun, and we were getting lots of workshops and performance opportunities, and it was a real peak in our troupe history. But the more we became known for our fusions, and our non-bellydance stylizations, the less time and energy we spent on bellydancing. Pretty soon, our music, choreography, movement vocabulary, and costuming had collectively grown so far from bellydance, I had the realization that we weren't really bellydancers any more--at least not primarily.

That is when I had to decide: did I want to be a bellydancer or not? So I told my troupe that I wanted to be known for being good bellydancers, and I didn't want to spend my time with the other fusions so much any more. And to do that, we needed to be spending our time working on our bellydance technique, developing an ear for bellydance music, improving our finger cymbal skills, and drawing primarily from inspirations within the genre and not so much from without. So we made a significant shift in our repertoire, and hopped back on the bellydance path and never looked back. We still did fusion choreographies, danced to a good chunk of world beat music, and as ATS based dancers, our foundations were already a bellydance fusion. But we were rooted firmly in bellydance in all we did: we anchored our performances with Middle Eastern and North African music, and carefully considered new movements and concepts that could take root in our vocabulary to make sure it suited the aesthetics of a bellydance presentation.

I still get requests for the workshop and performance material we were doing all those years ago. People really enjoyed it, we had a great time, and as a teacher my workshop income was about twice as good then. It's hard to take that kind of loss as a businesswoman, and so I have a unique understanding of and empathy for other teachers and performers who aren't really bellydancing any more, but continue to get a lot of work and notoriety from the community. But for me, I wanted to bellydance, so I made it my personal focus to study, teach, and perform the music, movement, costuming, and culture which supports that goal.

Just my personal experience, for what it's worth.

Once upon a time there was a character named Jack Skellington.

Jack was very very good at Halloween. Everyone looked to him for leadership because he was so good at it.

As time went on, Jack became bored of Halloween. He kinda felt like everything that could be done had been done, and he really wanted to try something new to spice things up.

He stumbled upon a town which celebrated something called Christmas. "What's this?!" he exclaimed joyfully. It was something really different, and it looked fun and interesting. On the spot he decided to give that a try.

He took Christmas back to his friends, none of whom knew anything about Christmas. Jack himself really didn't know much except what he thought it should maybe look like a bit (from his brief visit to the town), and some general ideas about the traditions. Armed with this spare information, they set to work on their version of Christmas.

They took it on with gusto! They trusted Jack's instincts, and despite reservations and confusion, they plowed ahead with their attempts at something new. They did random experiments to try and see what it all meant, mixing and matching this and that to try and see what it would result in. They were scratching their heads, but kept pushing forward with innocent curiosity. "Making Christmas; time to give them something fun they'll talk about for years to come!" It was all done from a place of genuine enthusiasm and desire to do something spectacular. They poured everything they had into it. Jack even had a friend make him a version of a "Sandy Claus" costume for him to wear. Now that was authentic Christmas right there!

When all was said and done, things were kind of sort of vaguely something like Christmas, but really it was just this strange kludging together of Halloween and Christmas that didn't quite work. In some ways it was completely horrifying how things were misinterpreted and misunderstood! But having done this from such a place of ignorance, they had no idea how wrong they were. And off Jack went in his sleigh to excitedly share his interpretation of Christmas with all the families of the Christmas world!

And it was a disaster. People were confused, terrified, and offended. And Jack and his minions couldn't figure out why! They had read some books, made some costumes and toys, and decorated to a T (with rats and bats, even! Who doesn't love rats and bats?!)! What could they have done wrong with all those bases covered...?

Perhaps it was just a basic understanding of the material?

Hrm...sounds so familiar...Can't quite put my finger on it...

More blasts from the past today! After I found that old class outline, I also found a repository of some of my old articles from various publications.

Below is an article I wrote for the now-defunct Caravan Trails quarterly newsletter which used to be produced by Paulette Rees-Denis of Gypsy Caravan. I was author of a regular column called "Of the Tribe" for a short time, for which I wrote short articles focused on the topic Paulette had chosen. This was for my first article, sometime in 2001, or maybe early 2002. Enjoy a little retro reading...

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Tribal Style: Getting our Terms Straight

You know, when I was coming up with the subject of my very first installment of "Of The Tribe", I was going to define my terms. With all the hub-bub about tribal belly dance these days, and all the new and varying catch phrases used to describe what we do, it is becoming hard to know what people mean when they say they do tribal belly dance. When I visited Tribal Fest II in Sebastopol, I felt really strongly that there was a need to understand what the basis of our dance form is, because from what I could see, the interpretations are getting further from the core, and we are losing our cohesion...at least, so it seemed to me.

So I jotted notes. I wrote draft after draft, and finally I had to put it away. Nothing was coming out right. How could I write on this topic without claiming to know better than others what defined tribal? After all, part of the beauty of this dance is that it holds so many opportunities for personal interpretation, and there are so many directions we can grow in. Yet every time I wrote, it seemed like I was making a list of things I have seen that didn't "fit the tribal mold". Tribal isn't this, and tribal isn't that.

I was still in this rut when I went to the Gypsy Caravan show at The Pink Door here in Seattle in August. It was a fantastic show. Many of my students came and grinned from ear to ear as some of them saw their first live show of tribal belly dance. It was utterly inspiring, and it reminded me of all the things I love about tribal. And that's when it hit me. The best way to talk about tribal is to really concentrate on what it IS, not what it ISN'T. It may seem obvious to you, but it wasn't to me. I was so caught up in my frustrations with what I am not seeing in dances being called tribal, I wasn't focusing on what I see that is.


It goes without saying that I can only really speak from where I stand, so that is what I am about to do. This is my column, so it's my take on it. Just hear me out.

What drew me to tribal in the first place was certainly not that it was improvised--I didn't know that fact when I saw my first tribal belly dance show! So then how did I recognize tribal from other styles? I had seen belly dance before, but nothing made me feel like I did when I saw tribal. I am sure the costumes were one major give-away--those tier skirts and turbans, layers of textiles and jewelry made my heart leap. I wanted to look like that! But it wasn't just about what they were wearing that made me want to jump up and dance. There was this...sensation. This...indescribable feeling that I am going to try to describe: There was something about the dancers that made me feel like I was witness to something and a part of it, both at the same time. I watched the dancers as they performed a basket dance in a circle, and saw that they were really communing with one another up there. They were really enjoying that moment and it showed. They looked at one another in the eye, they traded winks and smiles with one another, and somehow I felt like I was being let in on a secret between them. And yet, this was not exclusionary. As often as they smiled at one another, they had ten-times that much positive energy to share with the audience. They didn't just look over our heads in an effort to see us (the audience) all at once in some practiced stage presence. They looked AT ME somehow. They looked at the people in the audience around me. They truly SAW us. I almost felt like in that moment I was drawn in, as a part of their group; as a part of their secret. I know now what to call that feeling. It's called being part of a tribe.

Being a performer all my life yet never having experienced something like this, I really wanted to know, "How did they create this feeling?", "Where did this energy come from?", "If someone like me wanted to create this same dynamic, how could I do it?" And that's when I learned the name of this group I was seeing. They were, of course, Gypsy Caravan. And how could I do what they do? By learning what they do: improvisation. Because, as I was once told by Paulette, it is by this improvisational skill, being fully present in the moment, that we learn to really "see" one another as we dance. We can't be in our heads and get this effect. We have to connect. We have to communicate. We have to give and take. What an intriguing new concept this was to me then! What a wonderfully familiar and magical concept it is to me now.

I will never say that you cannot captivate an audience with choreography. I have done choreographies all my life, and have seen dances that have literally made me cry with emotion. I love the challenge of learning a choreography, and still do them from time-to-time with my troupe. But I don't call it tribal. The sensation I felt that day at the Gypsy Caravan show--that feeling of being part of a tribe--it came from a tribal belly dance troupe. From a group doing improv. And that is the core of what our branch of the belly dance family tree was founded on. What made it unique and different, what made people sit up and pay attention, was that very challenging skill which seems to be more and more scarce today. I would hate to see it further whittled away. I would hate to see tribal simply become a costume...a look that anyone can slip on and off, and throw in the washing machine at the end of the day. I would hate to see it become simply a musical choice--a CD that becomes scratched and outdated over time. I would hate to see it become anything but what makes it beautiful and unique--a dance based in improvisational skill, a dance where we really see each other.

This topic has come out of a discussion that is being bandied about on one of our local discussion groups here in Washington. One of the many micro-topics within it had to do with the idea that dance need not be specifically a performance art. That it is in fact many things to many people, and not all of these people are interested in performing. I agree with that, and elaborated...

*********************************

I remember from when I first started teaching, it was really really important to me to make sure my students understood that this dance could be just for them if they wanted, and that no one was pushed or expected to perform it. I know for me, while I have always been a performer (lifetime background in theater, music, gymnastics, and Western dance forms), there were non-performance facets to this dance that were so important to me! Particularly being a tribal group improvisational dancer, this dance is so fun as a modern folk dance, which can be a social group dance at any gathering where the other dancers know the movements and cues. I have always loved dancing by the fire among fellow dancers, just jamming, not putting on a show for anyone! When I host open dance parties, I am trying to foster that free spirit of joy and sharing among other dancers, which has nothing to do with performance in the least.

I would add this food for thought, and would love to hear other teachers' take on it:

While I am always telling my students that they need not have a goal to perform this dance, as I myself grew as a teacher I learned that I must teach them AS IF THEY WERE. Why? Because you don't know where a student is going to take what you teach them and what they will want to do with it. By teaching them the skills of performance, they can take that *anywhere*--they can choose to perform, or they can choose use their dance skills as a ritual or meditation, or they can use it just for exercise, or they can do it in their living room for their pets.

The fact is, as a teacher, I have no true control over where they choose to go with their dance--I can advise and encourage, but beyond that, they will do what they will. So if I teach them nothing of performance skills and strong technique, about ethics and their responsibility to the community at large; and then later some of them start to perform at haflas and then later want to go pro, with my having taught them none of the appropriate skills or passed on the vital knowledge, I have done them and this community a disservice. Once the box is opened, you can't put the djinn back in! You can't say "Wait wait! I didn't teach you how to *perform*. I was just teaching you how to *dance*!" That will never work.

The classroom is the place for the highest of standards--it is why we should encourage articulate and thoughtful teachers with a wide swath of knowledge on not only "just dancing", but also deeper technique and physiology of movement, choice of appropriate venues, assembling flattering and appropriate costuming, musical choice and interpretation, staging and presentation, etc. To me, in a classroom , there is no such thing as "just dance".(<---note I am saying in the classroom, not at the party, around the fire, at the party, etc) Dance as a skill is a much larger entity which includes all of the above and more. What a student chooses to do with it may or may not rely on each of these elements in the end--if they dance in their living room, they can do it naked to Quiet Riot and nobody need worry a whit about what that will do to the perception of bellydance/bellydancers in the eye of the GP. ;) But as soon as you take it to the stage and name it, and other eyes are on it, your responsibility to how it is presented is much greater, and encompasses these elements and more. And if your teacher never passed on all this valuable information, and more than that never encouraged it and required it of you in ongoing practice in anticipation that you *might* one day want to perform, then what happens...? Discussions like these happen, that's what!

So I strongly feel that the dance need not and should not ONLY be for performing/entertaining. It is so many things to so many people, and all are equally valuable and beautiful! But as a teacher, just like my Algebra teacher kept droning "You need to learn this because some day you will want to use it..." (dammit she was right!!), I will continue to teach strong performance skills and ethics to my students "just in case"...:)

If you are a teacher, what is your philosophy behind teaching performance ethics and skills? If you are a student, what have you run into in your classes with regard to learning about the responsibilities of taking your dance to the stage?

OMG I LOVE THIS!

Several folks on my Twitter feed linked to this, and I adore adore adore it. It is SO true for all aspects of art and work. We deserve to be be paid, people! And if we don't all stand up and say "I deserve money for my hard work," we won't get it!

Know Your Venue
A fantastic article by Seattle's own Laura Rose on considerations one must take into account when planning a performance.

I wasn't even at Tribal Fest this year, but its reach is far...

My first reports came from close friends who had attended. And I noted something key in all their reports. They very offhandedly reported "Oh you know...Our Favorite Troupe So-and-So was great, Super Famous So-and-So was great, just like we expect. But you should have seen Troupe Blah Blah (detailed description of bad dancing and distracting illogical fusion). Oh man, and then The Blah Blah Dance Group tooootally (detailed description of more bad dancing and overused schtick)!"

The real stories were the poor dancers/bad fusions/sloppy prop'ers, while the really great dancers...well...they were great. What else is there to say, right?

And this is from friends who are NOT gossip-hounds who were just waiting to dish. This truly is a sign of a phenomenon that has been growing more and more in the tribal bellydance community in particular. For the purposes of this metaphor, I will call it Bellydance Rubbernecking.


So you know when you're driving down the freeway, and there is a car accident along the side. Everyone slows down to take a look. You don't even want to see it necessarily, but human nature being what it is, you can't help but step on the brake and turn your head to see the details, which if dramatic enough, you will later report to the next person you see. And when you and everyone were stepping on the brake to "rubberneck" to watch the wreck, everyone was slowing down the entire flow of traffic, not seeing maybe the beautiful view of the flowering spring trees off the other side of the road, or the classic 65 Mustang gliding past like liquid love, and certainly not paying attention to our own driving. We get hours of backup, because we couldn't keep our eyes on the road. Nobody gets to their intended destination...

I don't blame us for this tendency, really. It is human. But when it comes to dance, we are definitely becoming guilty of giving our time and attention to the wrong side of the coin. While the strong, consistent dancers continue to give us 100% of what we say we come to these events for, the squeaky wheels are getting all the grease. The raucous, raunchy, drunken, shock-jock, skin-peddling, comedy/theater-to-hide-poor-technique, never-seen-before-props-which-don't-make-sense-or-uplift-the-dance, anything BUT bellydance with a few undulations thrown in... these are the acts that are getting all the attention, while the dancers doing the real work of elevating the dance form, through hard work and dedication to the roots and branches of the Bellydance Family Tree, are being overshadowed by all the sound and fury which signifies nothing. Broken-robot dolls, hip hop, modern/interpretive, ruffle-skirt vaudeville jazz, straight up burlesque... Watching so many of the videos, I was left wondering "where was the bellydance?" I would rather see a less skilled dancer dancing their heart out than any level skilled dancer performing bad acting and adding some illogical prop/fusion to try and hit on the "next big thing" everyone wants to copycat for the next few years.

Frankly, as audiences, we have our own role in this phenomenon. We have become awfully jaded, and often dismiss anything we have "seen before", no matter how skilled and meticulously executed...no wonder dancers feel they need to work so hard to create something, ANYTHING, that will get the attention of people who are used to 24 hour news cycles, 30 second commercials (which we can skip with our Tivo's, or watch on demand on our computers!), and instant gratification...but this is a topic of another post, methinks...

Sadly, I find that the culture tribal bellydance has been fostering lately is so reminiscent of high school, where everyone is vying for Most Popular. I have long felt that tribal bellydance has become synonymous with shock-and-awe. Many outsiders look into our world and, thanks in part to our own Bellydance Rubbernecking, look to the schtickiest and least authentic examples of what our dance is capable of presenting. This vortex of misguided energies fosters not only inauthentic living/dancing, but creates an atmosphere of cliquishness and even subtle competition within our own "sisterhood".

I suppose for the dancers guilty of poor performances/choices, any press is good press, right? But that's exactly why this cycle continues with a vengeance. For people who are driven by attention, even negative attention is attention. By giving them the "press" if you will, they continue to stay in the limelight, and will encourage them to continue along the path they are on, and it will encourage others to follow that path, in order to try and keep all eyes on them. And our students and other new dancers who would be guided by our gaze--they will look where we look. Where do we want them to be directing their attention?

In essence, like the car wreck rubberneckers, Bellydance Rubbernecking slows down the whole flow of tribal bellydance; which I think most of us agree we would to to see flowing to something greater and more respected internally within the greater bellydance community, and externally to the general public at large.

I already sound like a broken record, and I haven't had this dance-specific blog too long, but Asharah is setting a great example by focusing on what she felt was good, strong, and inspiring at the festival. You can see her blog post here with her brief reviews. And then she posts a fantastic follow up which addresses the overuse of schtick in bellydance today, which is timely in its posting as I was writing this very blog post over here.

I wanted to close with one more anecdote and related thought. An enthusiastic student of mine had never been to TF before, and was excited to go. She went alone, and signed up for tons of workshops, and was eager to see what the world of tribal bellydance beyond our local scene had to offer. She went to the Friday night show, and was so frustrated to have paid to see tribal bellydance, and instead was served up burlesque, random schtick, and non-bellydance performance art--and thinking the entire rest of the festival would be more of the same--she didn't go back to watch any more performances all weekend long, and doesn't plan to return to the festival again. She was grateful for the tribal workshops she had signed up for, but felt the show and theme of the event overall was not as advertised in the name "Tribal Fest".

What was once "Tribal Fest" has really grown into something else entirely. And I hate to say it, but no one else has the courage to say it, so I will. Now that the promoters have opted in recent years to direct the festival in a different direction than they originally intended, and personally call it "for freaky people", with "anything goes" verbiage on their own website; I strongly feel that retaining the name "Tribal Fest" causes a lot of confusion which is misrepresenting tribal bellydance the world over, and is a disservice to the community to keep the name with this new festival focus. If the promoters want an "anything goes" Burningman-type event, then by all means, please press on with that! And name it appropriately. Sure, lots of tribal bellydancers overlap with the other genres and aesthetics that Burningman events encourage; but in name this event claims to represent Tribal Bellydance as an art form, and as it has less and less actual tribal bellydance, or bellydance at all, it doesn't make sense to call it by the same name any more. I would like to see either the festival return more to its bellydance roots (unlikely), or encourage the promoters to find a new name for this new festival focus.

I am aware that my opinions and attitudes I have begun to express this year may get me black-balled from the festival, and I am regretful of that. I still think this festival has great value, and is a lot of fun! I would enjoy teaching and performing there again. I applaud all the hard work that goes into producing it, and all the hard work, love, and joy that goes into many of the performances presented on the stage. I simply think it's time to shift gears one way or another, and in its current incarnation shows a great deal of disrespect to the art of tribal bellydance to present every sort of dance, theater, and fantasy role-playing in its name.

That was a lot of thoughts to dump out, but it's something I have wanted to express for a long time, and what is this blog for if not to share these kinds of thoughts.

In the interest of trying to keep my Bellydance Rubbernecking to a minimum, I will continue to try to keep this blog uplifting and encouraging, and focused on the positive and inspirational, for both myself and for all you who might come by to share in it. From time-to-time I will pull out my soap-box like this, but ultimately, my goal as a dancer is to find joy and channel it to my students, audiences, and friends. And this blog will continue to be such a conduit.

Peace, y'all.

So part of why I dug up my older kudos-post to Asharah is because she continually asks the tough questions, and gives some thought-provoking and worthy answers. Her most recent post about "Vintage Fusion Bellydance" is again right on the money with regard to the Victorian/Burly fusion fad. Here is a snippet to whet your whistle, then pop over and read the entire thing!

"What if someone from the general public came to see one of these performances? What if this person knew nothing about bellydance? Do we want to give the general public the impression that we’re only comic relief and slapstick acts that have no qualms about showing our frilly panties to strangers, particularly as we lose (or pretend to lose) our inhibitions through the imbibing of alcohol on stage? Is that bellydance, and, more importantly to me, is that tribal? And, I know that many of us bellydancers are trying very hard to elevate this dance into the realms of both popular and high art… and in order for that to happen, we must earn the respect of not only our peers but also the general public. How do we expect to be respected as an art form when we’re stumbling around on stage in our underwear?"

Can someone Re-LiveJounral, like we ReTweet? And can we RLJ ourselves?

I am building up some content over here on Blogger, and thought I would grab some recent posts from my LiveJournal that might be of interest here, where I plan to talk mostly about dance (that is the PLAN anyway). So here it is:

Asharah posted in her journal lastyear last year about "honesty" in dancing. And it just got me postin', so I thought I would post a bit over here.

I see a lot of contrived performances--in aesthetic and execution. I see a lot of inauthentic dancers. Dancers who are not being their authentic selves on stage. They are clawing and grasping at trying to be or do the next big thing. I remember one gal at a workshop I taught not too long ago saying she was going to take a hula class because she was excited about the possibilities of fusing it with her bellydance, but then she found out Unmata was already pretty famous for that, so she was going to try and find something else to study to fuse. I was stunned into silence.

That, to me, is the quintessential problem these days: reverse engineering fusion. So many dancers are shoehorning things into bellydance just to try and be new and different--rather than pursuing your bliss and letting that fusion organically flow in the process. The best of all worlds of classical or fusion bellydance forms is when someone is just dancing their own being and that which grows out of their experiences organically. Isn't that what we are always saying is a primary root of bellydance as we know it? Honestly and openly revealing something of ourselves in the dance, rather than trying to gauge what will get the best reaction or the most buzz, and chasing after that? Is not "dancing our stories" the very essence of bellydance?

This is part of why my troupe has taken a very conscious step back from the entire tribal "scene" in the last year. We were frankly exhausted with the frantic "lookatmeeee!"/"wannabeeee!" energy that flows through it so much any more. We really missed that familial warmth, the genuine baring of souls through dance, the meeting of like-minds, unaffected groove behind the community that drew us to it in the first place. We wanted to get back to our own roots and remind ourselves what we stand for, what we dance for, and what we want to communicate in our work; separate from the grasping expectations of tribal audiences who lately seem too easily bored and jaded by anything that has "been done". We didn't want to stay on that train of constantly trying to go to the creative well, and becoming artistically contrived when the genuine inspiration dried up.

So we slowed down, and it feels good. Really good. And our work feels more honest, more pure. We honestly haven't had any big new things come of it yet. We are on our own creative schedule. We turned our energy inward toward one another and the voice we want to speak with. We have been honing our most basic technique and revisiting our foundations to make ourselves stronger overall. And when we come back out "on the scene", if we have something new and amazing to show for it, great. And if not, we can at least be assured we are stronger, better, and being true to ourselves.

Asharah also posted a link to a blog post by Amy of Kallisti Tribal which explores her thoughts on "Fusion, Performance, and Skill," which I really enjoyed. Hope you do, too!