A long weekend report about bellydance
Jul. 14th, 2008 07:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
parasitegirlThis is beast weather. It is oppressively humid out there. It’s the sort of humidity with no breeze to wick the sweat away from your skin and cool you. The moisture pools, soaking into your clothing, rolling down your back.
It is hot enough that they’ve turned on the air conditioning in city hall. It’s not high, but it is better than the no-air conditioning when students are in the school rule of my last workplace. The humidity clings to you and is hard to shake off, even once you’re in mild air-conditioning. I’ve resorted to a wet kerchief around my neck.
It’s been a good weekend for dance…and I have just finished writing my all the lesson plans that are due this Thursday….mucho writing time.
Friday night:
Friday, as usual, was Anatolia. I had a mostly new set and was feeling ok about my level of practice. It wasn’t crowded, only four or five tables and that Turkish man who seems to be coming every other week now. It was a good crowd though. Not big on the clapping, but very good with the “oooohhhs” and facial expressions. I’d snuck in another slower fun to zill improvise with song, the sort that the owner sometimes tells me is a little slow…but when he poked his head out to see if the crowd was enjoying it he was treated to the sight of tables all joyously smiling and taking cell phone pictures…ah, Japan.
After the show the owner was happy, and proceeded to tell me about the fact that his bag full of “omiyage” (honorable souviners) was the only bag that didn’t make it back on his flight from Turkey this week, but that it had been located and would be here next week. In the meantime, would I like some emergency candy souviners from his layover in Korea to tide me over until the good Turkish sweets arrived? It wasn’t much of a question, as he was filling a plate full of chocolates as he asked. I begged off the plate but accepted a few chocolates for the road. He forced a pack of Turkish gum on me as well before I could escape.
Sometimes it is the tiny details about dance that make you happy. For me it’s the fact that I’ve finally found the right foundation and powder combination. It’s summer and the changing areas are never cooled beyond a crude fan, so I start sweating before I dance. Now when I finish, the face that greets me in the changing room mirror has massive beads of sweat on it, like an advertisement for Scotch Guard, but remains the flesh-toned color I started with instead of roasted red. The color my face naturally turns when I do high aerobic activity is a scary red, even when my breathing remains controlled and my breath is easy to catch. It has always alarmed aerobics and hot yoga instructors at first, until they realize that I am in good shape and that the color isn’t signaling eminent death.
Sometimes I’m not so much white as I am transparent.
When a performance goes well, I’m slow at getting “un-pumped” and often have a hard time falling quickly to sleep. Getting home I unpacked my suitcase and promptly re-packed it for the next day’s workshop and restaurant show at Legend. I chose my burgundy two-piece (bra and skirt) costume because it folds the smallest and left ample room for my workshop gear and my make-up pack. Well, the burgundy is it neck and neck with The Junkman’s Sexy Daughter for size and portability, but I like to get a feel for a place before I bust out my sexiest of sexy.
Saturday morning and afternoon:
I was dead tired when I awoke at 8AM. I stumbled around, checking my music and making myself food and coffee. I showered, and rolled my hair into loose buns so that it would dry over the course of the workshop and be slightly curly for the restaurant.
I got to the Ansuya workshop early and caught up with Farasha who would be translating for the day. Farasha and Kiki just finished making a book and DVD about belly dance for the Japanese market, but Farasha was rather mad about how the publisher was marketing it as a fitness thing. I have no doubt that Kiki and Farasha’s focus was more whole-body/mind oriented and I understood how they must feel about having FITNESS thrown across the title, with “The beauty of bellydance” shrunk…not to mention the asinine phrase “Ten minute shimmy!” flung onto it.
I talked to her about how, because she and Kiki are some of the first to get out and publish such things in Japan, that they didn’t have anyone who COULD advise them…and thus they should chalk it up to lessons learned. It was officially out of their hands this time..this time.. I stressed that anyone interested in the dance here is going to pick up a book and DVD and flip through it and find out what it’s REALLY about, regardless of how it is marketed, because such things are rare…and that the audience she and Kiki really want to reach probably doesn’t even know it wants BD for the transformation of well-being and body image it can provide. I gestured to the 70 people waiting for the workshop started belly dance and expressed the fact that they probably didn’t start because of such high goals, they needed a gateway cause….like fitness, excersize, ‘being more sexy” , bling-lust…and got hooked on the more complex ideas later.
Farasha said that my words made her feel better. She was still pissed at the idea of she and Kiki being “fitness” marketed, because she’d frankly enjoy a bit more hips and chest to move when dancing and doesn’t think that her tiny size is something that should be sought after if it doesn’t come naturally to you, but should be enjoyed and accepted if you’re the type with her sort of build. She bemoaned the fact that she would have loved to include a wider range of beautiful body types…like me and Tanishq to represent the curvier range.
Yeah, I know, but it’s Japan and dancers like me and Tanishq do represent the softer/curvier side of dancers who perform regularly…and would represent the outer limits (or beyond) of what a publisher would think marketable here. Sad but true. Don’t worry. I know I am not big, and I understand that the idea of myself as a curvier dancer is only true inside the relatively small range of body types I encounter with the generally-fit 20 and 30 something female belly dancers of Japan.
As for the workshop itself, I had spaced out signing up for Ansuya’s workshops and show, mostly because the sign-up went out the same time that I changed jobs. Mishaal was able to fit me into the Saturday workshop, but Sunday, with 100 students, was too full. I missed out on show tickets for Friday’s show as well, which is a shame, but with paying for my flight to America I need my dance income right now.
Ansuya’s four hour Saturday workshop (firecracker openings, scintillating chiftitelli, and zills with an overall emphasis on improve skills) was ok. There are thinking points that I will take away from it, but it was too similar to the workshops she’s taught here before for me to regret the fact that I’d been too late to get a place in Sunday’s workshop. I was a bit miffed that the zill work was so closely based on her first zill dvd. I think it would take a mighty impressive zill workshop section for me to be happy nowadays, Artemis has raised the bar for that for me.
Ansuya a lovely performer, quite nice to sit and talk with, and a patient teacher who is good at breaking things down and answering the most intricate and asinine questions (luckily, our greatest offender of asinine questions was not present to ask any of them, or to block my view at every step of the workshop!)…but I’d been hoping for newer materials. She is working hard on her marketing, what with the whole certification thing, but I find it the idea of watching her marketing skills evolve over the years more interesting than the idea of actually getting “certified”.
I think I would have been better served begging for Mishaal to score me a performance ticket than getting into the workshop.
At the workshop I sat with My Fan. I am blanking on her name, but she fell for me at the Artemis show and sat next to me through the Artemis workshops. When she saw me at the Ansuya workshop she squeeled and joined me. More and more, dancers/ dance students whose faces I only sort of know, make a high-pitched noise and wave their hands excitedly when they see me at workshops and things. She wasn’t the only one, but she was the one I sat with.
I didn’t attend the Sunday workshop, but I did promise my fan that I’d come to the “student showcase” (where a limited number of workshop participants signed up to perform for peers) to see her perform.
After the workshop I went into Shinjuku to buy more sequins for the restoration of the red flame costume. I am documenting the hell out of it, but will save that post until the end, as I’ve found that people really enjoyed watching a costume’s story unfold dramaticly over one picture filled post when I made my promdress-to-bedlah conversion. I am posting the minutia to Bhuz right now for the cheering section, but saving the story as a whole for you.
Then I had a few hours to kill before I had to get to the restaurant. Wataguy and I were going to meet for coffee and (in my case) a huge fucking plate of fries/chips at a French café in Ginza, like we did after the Michelle Joyce workshop, but he ended up having a customer come to the shop and couldn’t slip away. I found a café to hang in…and later found an empty bathroom to put my show face on (which I am glad to have done, the Legend changing area is unreasonably hot).
Saturday evening comes
I’d packed everything for my face but forgot my black MAC fluid liner. I ended up being a bit too forceful with a regular eyeliner. Applying eyeliner with hard contacts has turned out to be a struggle. The way you usually pull your eyelid slightly taut to apply liner is the same motion you make to pop out hard contacts after a long day…I must have pulled my eyeliner pencil too hard across my lid, pinching the skin between pencil and hard lens, because the next morning one of my eyelids was bruised where my contact is…small bruise, more painful to contemplate than to have, but…yeah.
I’d been frustrated with my false eyelashes, which had decided to fight me. Usually they behave, but lashes wait until you have a false sense of security and then they fuck with you.
I arrived at Legend a little early and ended up hanging at the bar with my cherry juice. The staff kept wondering if I was nervous, but I explained that I was simply very tired (and, although I did not explain it, worn out from fighting with my lashes.) There were only three tables full: a couple, a girls’ night out birthday party of 4, and three bellydancers…and a few Turkish men at the bar… a slow night. I hadn’t gotten around to posting the fact I’d be at Legend on-line on my Mixi, which I regret. Mika would usually have been there, and brought others, but she ended up in bed with a fever.
I knew that the table of three were bellydancers, because they made high pitched noises and waved their hands at me and called me Ozma. I had no idea which venue or class connected me to them.
We waited, incase more people were coming, but only two Japanese women who worked at the Turkish stuff store next-door walked in.
I got changed, and got my show-mind on in a tiny hot room.
You know what rocked about the small turn-out? Space. They’d pushed unoccupied tables out of the way and I could travel, move, and do veil without fear. I haven’t had a space to dance that was that wide since…since being on stage at the Artemis show. I haven’t had that sort of performance wing-span since…I don’t know when!
It went well.
Sure, one sandal came untied and my veil decided to unwrap before it’s time, but these were little things. It was fun, and just liberating not to have to worry so much about where my body was in relation to inanimate objects. All tables were receptive and the Turks were cute with silly-grins. The tables got up to dance and made all the fun noises that I like to hear.
After I changed, mopped up my face and re-powered it, I went back into the restaurant. I accepted a large glass of wine and went over to the bellydance table and explained “I know your faced, but can’t place your names, how do I know you?”
They’re in Mishaal’s basics class on Saturday, the class before the performance prep class I attend. So, they’re coming back to change when I am heading in to warm-up. They’ve seen me at studio events and show, but I’ve only seen them as a group at the end of the year show, when things tend to blur together due to 70+ dancers.
I sat down and talked with them. I really do have to question the fact that I fight against the idea of teaching so much, when I obviously participate in a certain amount of “slightly elder stateswoman teaching and advising” in bellydance social settings. Two of the women would be taking the Ansuya workshop and were worried about it being over their heads, so I told them what they could expect, what things would be at their level, and not to worry about the translation because Elle would be handling it, and to please ask questions as the came up. I warned them that it would be hella crowded, but to just think of it as “training for small Tokyo dance venues.”
They asked about my veil work and I explained the small points where the veil had fought me (because they had wondered if my veil had come untucked too early, or if that was all part of my plan) and we discussed why they hadn’t been able to pinpoint mistakes and hard points. We talked about performance face and how to just keep going with your veil no matter what it decides to do to you.
If I have a pet topic, it is practicing with an animated face. They started it by bringing up my face and I ran with it. I think practicing with your face is essential. I don’t mean that people should practice overly emotional faces in front of a mirror… going for a certain look can get pretty grotesque if overdone, but that they should imagine an audience while they practice and project accordingly. I feel that being able to visualize an audience as you practice (and thus be able to think of issues of protecting outward and going inward) and to be able to visualize yourself dancing are very important skills when it comes to stepping up your dance game. Visualizing an audience as you are reacting to the music is not the same thing as watching yourself in a mirror to see how you look, with the mirror you are still very much inside your own head, judging, which isn’t the same as projecting your energy.
In Ansuya’s workshop she did talk about the role that upper body posture plays in being able to really open yourself and project outward. She admitted that you’re gonna look a little daft if you carry that posture and attitude everywhere you go, like the supermarket…and that people might react with a sort of “who the fuck does she think she is” vibe…but that it’s good to start training yourself early. She suggested making a goal of adapting a more outward posture when you go to dance events, even when you are not participating, so that your body and mind learns “Here, yes here is where I can be open, myself, and carry myself with pride, like a dancer” and you can learn to tune out the occasional “WTF? Who does she think she is?” attitudes you might encounter and your own internal doubts.
I have to admit, and folks who’ve known me a while will back me up, that projecting outward attitude and posture as I move through space isn’t something that I’ve struggled with…it was there before the dance. It was much of what carried me in my early dance outings…it’s there offstage. It’s in the classroom with me when I teach…but I see what she’s getting at. I have worked over the last year to be more of a “dancer” when attending events. I am more apt to toss on a little bit of make-up and contacts ( still transitioning to mostly fulltime wearing of my contacts) when I go to events, and I keep my cards on me and upcoming flyers…and it might be connected with making sure that I take extra time when less experienced dancers want to talk with me.
The dancers and I talked a little while longer, about Mishaal’s teaching style. I urged them to understand that the difficulty in understanding her English isn’t 100% about their English comprehension level. Mishaal is very passionate about her ideas and tends towards abstract language punctuated with fast and furious tangents. I told them to be willing to ask questions when they get totally confused, and to not worry about looking silly if they have to ask the questions in a combination of gesture and simple English if that’s what it takes.
When I finished my servings of wine I bid them goodnight. They thanked me for talking with them and said it was like getting a small private lesson.
I talked with the staff for a bit, checked who would be dancing next week, signed my receipt and took my money. I answered the question of “So, what’s your real name?” with “That’s a wonderful question!” and left it at that. They told me that they’d really enjoyed it and hoped I would be dancing there again.
Then I went, tipsy into the night of Shibuya, and got up to no good.
Sunday afternoon.
So very sleepy. I so much wanted to stay in bed napping, sewing, and watching So You Think You Can Dance.
I lounged, washed clothing, aired out the costumes of the last few days, and slothed. I wasn’t hung-over, just too little sleep combined with dance highs over two days had left me a bit worn at the edges.
Around 4PM I put in my contacts, some light make-up, and tossed on my vintage green dress….slowly…with much wanting to go back to bed. At 5:30 I had a coffee in hand, iPod in ears, and the fire-bra in my purse to stitch on the train.
I got to the venue, chatted with Ansuya in the elevator, and went to join the masses as she got changed into “watching people” clothing. I met up with Momo, who made the usual Momo noises and unleashed the Momo hugs on me. I talked to Barbara and Elle for a bit, and then found My Fan. She was putting on bling in the form of hoop earrings and gold-toned coin stuff. There was one girl from the workshop wearing a loooovely purple-wine Bella, and almost no make-up. There was only 30 minutes between workshop and student showcase, so the advantages of casual costumes had been stressed.
We talked with Bella Girl, who was a little nervous. Turkish V’s were also in the house, a trio of “Harajuku dolls who do tribal fusion in peticoats, spandex shorts and twee little hats” (which is RB influenced, but is also a look very local loli-goth oriented might owe something to Misato’s influence ) a nice affordable blue and silver bedlah paired with a skirt almost a foot above the floor, a recognizable Eman skirt with a tank top over it (I pity the girl, who was a lovely dancer but who managed the order a costume that has become visually linked with local dancer Tanishq…and she knew it. Eman! I said. “Yes, same as Tanishq’s” she replied) and an assortment of hippy skirts, pants, and tops.
She asked me what costumes I’m working on, so I showed My Fan the costume I was fixing up and talked about where I usually buy/make my costumes. My Fan asked me if her costume was alright, because she knew it was a hodge-podge Indian and affordable hippy stuff and probably not right for her Oriental music. I opined that it was perfectly acceptable for the venue. When you’re a student, dancing for other students at your level, you don’t need a fancy costume. You need something that you can afford, something simple that doesn’t clutter up your body, but beyond that you should focus on enjoying performing in a safe place. The Bella, while lovely, was really more fancy than the venue needed. Her instincts that it wasn’t the right costume for the music were dead-on, but that here the venue and level really trumped the music…somewhere else, with a different focus, would be different.
My Fan thanked me and we sat together. She gave me an extra veil so I could sit on the floor in my short dress. She introduced me to a friend of hers who had also enjoyed my performance at the Artemis show. We all sat in a large circle and the dancer entered at many points.
My Fan was wonderful company. Without her I think I would have been more focused on what needed to be worked on with certain dancers. My fan cheered and waved her hands frantically at any dancer she slightly knew. I said only the good things I could think of when watching dancer, and kept quiet. Teaching is also about knowing when to shut up and let people been enthusiastic.
There were dancers who were painful to watch. There was a grimace so pronounced that it hurt to watch, some violent zilling, some rolling around on the floor in catharsis and then thrusting the open crotch at nice audience members, and the abuse of a veil that had done no wrong that I could see. The studio had mirrors on two sides, so some dancer focused their eyes on themselves in the mirror instead of the audience members slightly lower. That was the only tip I gave My Fan “remember, don’t watch yourself…connect with us or focus beyond us…but don’t be watching yourself.”
But there was a lot of sweetness as well…and overall, even the crotching seemed more misguided than aggressive.
My Fan was very cute, and in the moments that she really lit up and moved she was delightful to watch. I did not tell My Fan her song really required a more dramatic entrance…I think there should be a law against allowing beginners to come out hidden behind a veil because I am sick of it and it is a move that really requires more confidence to make it mysterious…but she got into it and the energy picked up when she started really moving. I told her that she had a lovely shimmy, which she did. I had shimmy envy.
The Bella turned out to probably be the best dancer of the evening. She could have slowed down a bit, but she had the technique and performance skills…it just needs to sink in a little more. She was lovely to watch and had obviously worked hard to create a full-feeling set with the 7:22 she had.
Ansuya entered when she was dancing, and approached her later to praise her. I also praised her. Later, when she came over to sit with us, I did scold her a little for starting to make the “no no no no…” response to complements.
The tribal fusion trio watched themselves as the danced, which created a disconnect. They also did a move that I can only describe as trio-birthing-floorwork; Shoulders, head, and upper back on the floor, pelvis in the air, feet about a foot and a half apart, and undulating to a center point. They did it twice. I do not recommend doing it once. I do not want to see loli-dolls mime birthing undulations.
I only gave feedback when asked…except for the Eman girl, who I’m told is a teacher, because I felt she needed to know where to move the straps on her bra so that it wouldn’t stick out, empty, from her chest. I kept explaining that she was such a delightful dancer that I’d wanted to concentrate on “Oooooooh! Lovely!” instead of “ooh…oh…is that…can I see a nipple? Oh I hope not…” She was a delightful dancer and I would have enjoyed it if I hadn’t been able to see that her breasts didn’t meet up with the inside fo her bra. She took it very well and we danced a bit when it was all over. When I said my goodbyes I saw Mishaal take her by the elbow and lead her into a corner saying ‘That was lovely, there’s just one little thing…” which I assume was about the perilous bra top. Ansuya, Mishaal and I had all watching her with this odd “oh, shit…noooo…” face. She was a trooper though. After that I pity her even more for having bought the Tanishq Eman, Tanisq is a bra filler if there ever was one.
The evening ended with Mishaal agreeing to do a quick dance. She was joined by Shanti, her 4 year old son, who was too excited from the evening’s event and all the attention he gets when he comes to an event to stay put. Shanti ran in circles around her, grabbing her veil like a crazed cat, until she relented, picked him up, and danced with him, spinning him out and bringing him close. The effect was stunning and a few of us teared up. You have to understand that Mishaal’s got that willowy earth-goddess thing going on, and the contrast between her earthy cool and the small-firecracker nature of Shanti was stunning. I’m not really mother-earth, mother-child oriented, but I know stunning when I see it.
I said my goodbyes and walked with a girl who I now think of as “Egyptian wide” (for the overly wide sparsely flowered belt she wore) to the station. We talked about other workshops she’s traveling to take and about costuming.
The event did remind me that I am glad that I started making costumes and buying used early on. I like my odd fixer-uppers and self mades.
I boarded my train and stitched beads while listening to The Poisonwood Bible. Once home, I washed my face, removing the light concealer from my bruised eyelid, and fell deep asleep.
It is hot enough that they’ve turned on the air conditioning in city hall. It’s not high, but it is better than the no-air conditioning when students are in the school rule of my last workplace. The humidity clings to you and is hard to shake off, even once you’re in mild air-conditioning. I’ve resorted to a wet kerchief around my neck.
It’s been a good weekend for dance…and I have just finished writing my all the lesson plans that are due this Thursday….mucho writing time.
Friday night:
Friday, as usual, was Anatolia. I had a mostly new set and was feeling ok about my level of practice. It wasn’t crowded, only four or five tables and that Turkish man who seems to be coming every other week now. It was a good crowd though. Not big on the clapping, but very good with the “oooohhhs” and facial expressions. I’d snuck in another slower fun to zill improvise with song, the sort that the owner sometimes tells me is a little slow…but when he poked his head out to see if the crowd was enjoying it he was treated to the sight of tables all joyously smiling and taking cell phone pictures…ah, Japan.
After the show the owner was happy, and proceeded to tell me about the fact that his bag full of “omiyage” (honorable souviners) was the only bag that didn’t make it back on his flight from Turkey this week, but that it had been located and would be here next week. In the meantime, would I like some emergency candy souviners from his layover in Korea to tide me over until the good Turkish sweets arrived? It wasn’t much of a question, as he was filling a plate full of chocolates as he asked. I begged off the plate but accepted a few chocolates for the road. He forced a pack of Turkish gum on me as well before I could escape.
Sometimes it is the tiny details about dance that make you happy. For me it’s the fact that I’ve finally found the right foundation and powder combination. It’s summer and the changing areas are never cooled beyond a crude fan, so I start sweating before I dance. Now when I finish, the face that greets me in the changing room mirror has massive beads of sweat on it, like an advertisement for Scotch Guard, but remains the flesh-toned color I started with instead of roasted red. The color my face naturally turns when I do high aerobic activity is a scary red, even when my breathing remains controlled and my breath is easy to catch. It has always alarmed aerobics and hot yoga instructors at first, until they realize that I am in good shape and that the color isn’t signaling eminent death.
Sometimes I’m not so much white as I am transparent.
When a performance goes well, I’m slow at getting “un-pumped” and often have a hard time falling quickly to sleep. Getting home I unpacked my suitcase and promptly re-packed it for the next day’s workshop and restaurant show at Legend. I chose my burgundy two-piece (bra and skirt) costume because it folds the smallest and left ample room for my workshop gear and my make-up pack. Well, the burgundy is it neck and neck with The Junkman’s Sexy Daughter for size and portability, but I like to get a feel for a place before I bust out my sexiest of sexy.
Saturday morning and afternoon:
I was dead tired when I awoke at 8AM. I stumbled around, checking my music and making myself food and coffee. I showered, and rolled my hair into loose buns so that it would dry over the course of the workshop and be slightly curly for the restaurant.
I got to the Ansuya workshop early and caught up with Farasha who would be translating for the day. Farasha and Kiki just finished making a book and DVD about belly dance for the Japanese market, but Farasha was rather mad about how the publisher was marketing it as a fitness thing. I have no doubt that Kiki and Farasha’s focus was more whole-body/mind oriented and I understood how they must feel about having FITNESS thrown across the title, with “The beauty of bellydance” shrunk…not to mention the asinine phrase “Ten minute shimmy!” flung onto it.
I talked to her about how, because she and Kiki are some of the first to get out and publish such things in Japan, that they didn’t have anyone who COULD advise them…and thus they should chalk it up to lessons learned. It was officially out of their hands this time..this time.. I stressed that anyone interested in the dance here is going to pick up a book and DVD and flip through it and find out what it’s REALLY about, regardless of how it is marketed, because such things are rare…and that the audience she and Kiki really want to reach probably doesn’t even know it wants BD for the transformation of well-being and body image it can provide. I gestured to the 70 people waiting for the workshop started belly dance and expressed the fact that they probably didn’t start because of such high goals, they needed a gateway cause….like fitness, excersize, ‘being more sexy” , bling-lust…and got hooked on the more complex ideas later.
Farasha said that my words made her feel better. She was still pissed at the idea of she and Kiki being “fitness” marketed, because she’d frankly enjoy a bit more hips and chest to move when dancing and doesn’t think that her tiny size is something that should be sought after if it doesn’t come naturally to you, but should be enjoyed and accepted if you’re the type with her sort of build. She bemoaned the fact that she would have loved to include a wider range of beautiful body types…like me and Tanishq to represent the curvier range.
Yeah, I know, but it’s Japan and dancers like me and Tanishq do represent the softer/curvier side of dancers who perform regularly…and would represent the outer limits (or beyond) of what a publisher would think marketable here. Sad but true. Don’t worry. I know I am not big, and I understand that the idea of myself as a curvier dancer is only true inside the relatively small range of body types I encounter with the generally-fit 20 and 30 something female belly dancers of Japan.
As for the workshop itself, I had spaced out signing up for Ansuya’s workshops and show, mostly because the sign-up went out the same time that I changed jobs. Mishaal was able to fit me into the Saturday workshop, but Sunday, with 100 students, was too full. I missed out on show tickets for Friday’s show as well, which is a shame, but with paying for my flight to America I need my dance income right now.
Ansuya’s four hour Saturday workshop (firecracker openings, scintillating chiftitelli, and zills with an overall emphasis on improve skills) was ok. There are thinking points that I will take away from it, but it was too similar to the workshops she’s taught here before for me to regret the fact that I’d been too late to get a place in Sunday’s workshop. I was a bit miffed that the zill work was so closely based on her first zill dvd. I think it would take a mighty impressive zill workshop section for me to be happy nowadays, Artemis has raised the bar for that for me.
Ansuya a lovely performer, quite nice to sit and talk with, and a patient teacher who is good at breaking things down and answering the most intricate and asinine questions (luckily, our greatest offender of asinine questions was not present to ask any of them, or to block my view at every step of the workshop!)…but I’d been hoping for newer materials. She is working hard on her marketing, what with the whole certification thing, but I find it the idea of watching her marketing skills evolve over the years more interesting than the idea of actually getting “certified”.
I think I would have been better served begging for Mishaal to score me a performance ticket than getting into the workshop.
At the workshop I sat with My Fan. I am blanking on her name, but she fell for me at the Artemis show and sat next to me through the Artemis workshops. When she saw me at the Ansuya workshop she squeeled and joined me. More and more, dancers/ dance students whose faces I only sort of know, make a high-pitched noise and wave their hands excitedly when they see me at workshops and things. She wasn’t the only one, but she was the one I sat with.
I didn’t attend the Sunday workshop, but I did promise my fan that I’d come to the “student showcase” (where a limited number of workshop participants signed up to perform for peers) to see her perform.
After the workshop I went into Shinjuku to buy more sequins for the restoration of the red flame costume. I am documenting the hell out of it, but will save that post until the end, as I’ve found that people really enjoyed watching a costume’s story unfold dramaticly over one picture filled post when I made my promdress-to-bedlah conversion. I am posting the minutia to Bhuz right now for the cheering section, but saving the story as a whole for you.
Then I had a few hours to kill before I had to get to the restaurant. Wataguy and I were going to meet for coffee and (in my case) a huge fucking plate of fries/chips at a French café in Ginza, like we did after the Michelle Joyce workshop, but he ended up having a customer come to the shop and couldn’t slip away. I found a café to hang in…and later found an empty bathroom to put my show face on (which I am glad to have done, the Legend changing area is unreasonably hot).
Saturday evening comes
I’d packed everything for my face but forgot my black MAC fluid liner. I ended up being a bit too forceful with a regular eyeliner. Applying eyeliner with hard contacts has turned out to be a struggle. The way you usually pull your eyelid slightly taut to apply liner is the same motion you make to pop out hard contacts after a long day…I must have pulled my eyeliner pencil too hard across my lid, pinching the skin between pencil and hard lens, because the next morning one of my eyelids was bruised where my contact is…small bruise, more painful to contemplate than to have, but…yeah.
I’d been frustrated with my false eyelashes, which had decided to fight me. Usually they behave, but lashes wait until you have a false sense of security and then they fuck with you.
I arrived at Legend a little early and ended up hanging at the bar with my cherry juice. The staff kept wondering if I was nervous, but I explained that I was simply very tired (and, although I did not explain it, worn out from fighting with my lashes.) There were only three tables full: a couple, a girls’ night out birthday party of 4, and three bellydancers…and a few Turkish men at the bar… a slow night. I hadn’t gotten around to posting the fact I’d be at Legend on-line on my Mixi, which I regret. Mika would usually have been there, and brought others, but she ended up in bed with a fever.
I knew that the table of three were bellydancers, because they made high pitched noises and waved their hands at me and called me Ozma. I had no idea which venue or class connected me to them.
We waited, incase more people were coming, but only two Japanese women who worked at the Turkish stuff store next-door walked in.
I got changed, and got my show-mind on in a tiny hot room.
You know what rocked about the small turn-out? Space. They’d pushed unoccupied tables out of the way and I could travel, move, and do veil without fear. I haven’t had a space to dance that was that wide since…since being on stage at the Artemis show. I haven’t had that sort of performance wing-span since…I don’t know when!
It went well.
Sure, one sandal came untied and my veil decided to unwrap before it’s time, but these were little things. It was fun, and just liberating not to have to worry so much about where my body was in relation to inanimate objects. All tables were receptive and the Turks were cute with silly-grins. The tables got up to dance and made all the fun noises that I like to hear.
After I changed, mopped up my face and re-powered it, I went back into the restaurant. I accepted a large glass of wine and went over to the bellydance table and explained “I know your faced, but can’t place your names, how do I know you?”
They’re in Mishaal’s basics class on Saturday, the class before the performance prep class I attend. So, they’re coming back to change when I am heading in to warm-up. They’ve seen me at studio events and show, but I’ve only seen them as a group at the end of the year show, when things tend to blur together due to 70+ dancers.
I sat down and talked with them. I really do have to question the fact that I fight against the idea of teaching so much, when I obviously participate in a certain amount of “slightly elder stateswoman teaching and advising” in bellydance social settings. Two of the women would be taking the Ansuya workshop and were worried about it being over their heads, so I told them what they could expect, what things would be at their level, and not to worry about the translation because Elle would be handling it, and to please ask questions as the came up. I warned them that it would be hella crowded, but to just think of it as “training for small Tokyo dance venues.”
They asked about my veil work and I explained the small points where the veil had fought me (because they had wondered if my veil had come untucked too early, or if that was all part of my plan) and we discussed why they hadn’t been able to pinpoint mistakes and hard points. We talked about performance face and how to just keep going with your veil no matter what it decides to do to you.
If I have a pet topic, it is practicing with an animated face. They started it by bringing up my face and I ran with it. I think practicing with your face is essential. I don’t mean that people should practice overly emotional faces in front of a mirror… going for a certain look can get pretty grotesque if overdone, but that they should imagine an audience while they practice and project accordingly. I feel that being able to visualize an audience as you practice (and thus be able to think of issues of protecting outward and going inward) and to be able to visualize yourself dancing are very important skills when it comes to stepping up your dance game. Visualizing an audience as you are reacting to the music is not the same thing as watching yourself in a mirror to see how you look, with the mirror you are still very much inside your own head, judging, which isn’t the same as projecting your energy.
In Ansuya’s workshop she did talk about the role that upper body posture plays in being able to really open yourself and project outward. She admitted that you’re gonna look a little daft if you carry that posture and attitude everywhere you go, like the supermarket…and that people might react with a sort of “who the fuck does she think she is” vibe…but that it’s good to start training yourself early. She suggested making a goal of adapting a more outward posture when you go to dance events, even when you are not participating, so that your body and mind learns “Here, yes here is where I can be open, myself, and carry myself with pride, like a dancer” and you can learn to tune out the occasional “WTF? Who does she think she is?” attitudes you might encounter and your own internal doubts.
I have to admit, and folks who’ve known me a while will back me up, that projecting outward attitude and posture as I move through space isn’t something that I’ve struggled with…it was there before the dance. It was much of what carried me in my early dance outings…it’s there offstage. It’s in the classroom with me when I teach…but I see what she’s getting at. I have worked over the last year to be more of a “dancer” when attending events. I am more apt to toss on a little bit of make-up and contacts ( still transitioning to mostly fulltime wearing of my contacts) when I go to events, and I keep my cards on me and upcoming flyers…and it might be connected with making sure that I take extra time when less experienced dancers want to talk with me.
The dancers and I talked a little while longer, about Mishaal’s teaching style. I urged them to understand that the difficulty in understanding her English isn’t 100% about their English comprehension level. Mishaal is very passionate about her ideas and tends towards abstract language punctuated with fast and furious tangents. I told them to be willing to ask questions when they get totally confused, and to not worry about looking silly if they have to ask the questions in a combination of gesture and simple English if that’s what it takes.
When I finished my servings of wine I bid them goodnight. They thanked me for talking with them and said it was like getting a small private lesson.
I talked with the staff for a bit, checked who would be dancing next week, signed my receipt and took my money. I answered the question of “So, what’s your real name?” with “That’s a wonderful question!” and left it at that. They told me that they’d really enjoyed it and hoped I would be dancing there again.
Then I went, tipsy into the night of Shibuya, and got up to no good.
Sunday afternoon.
So very sleepy. I so much wanted to stay in bed napping, sewing, and watching So You Think You Can Dance.
I lounged, washed clothing, aired out the costumes of the last few days, and slothed. I wasn’t hung-over, just too little sleep combined with dance highs over two days had left me a bit worn at the edges.
Around 4PM I put in my contacts, some light make-up, and tossed on my vintage green dress….slowly…with much wanting to go back to bed. At 5:30 I had a coffee in hand, iPod in ears, and the fire-bra in my purse to stitch on the train.
I got to the venue, chatted with Ansuya in the elevator, and went to join the masses as she got changed into “watching people” clothing. I met up with Momo, who made the usual Momo noises and unleashed the Momo hugs on me. I talked to Barbara and Elle for a bit, and then found My Fan. She was putting on bling in the form of hoop earrings and gold-toned coin stuff. There was one girl from the workshop wearing a loooovely purple-wine Bella, and almost no make-up. There was only 30 minutes between workshop and student showcase, so the advantages of casual costumes had been stressed.
We talked with Bella Girl, who was a little nervous. Turkish V’s were also in the house, a trio of “Harajuku dolls who do tribal fusion in peticoats, spandex shorts and twee little hats” (which is RB influenced, but is also a look very local loli-goth oriented might owe something to Misato’s influence ) a nice affordable blue and silver bedlah paired with a skirt almost a foot above the floor, a recognizable Eman skirt with a tank top over it (I pity the girl, who was a lovely dancer but who managed the order a costume that has become visually linked with local dancer Tanishq…and she knew it. Eman! I said. “Yes, same as Tanishq’s” she replied) and an assortment of hippy skirts, pants, and tops.
She asked me what costumes I’m working on, so I showed My Fan the costume I was fixing up and talked about where I usually buy/make my costumes. My Fan asked me if her costume was alright, because she knew it was a hodge-podge Indian and affordable hippy stuff and probably not right for her Oriental music. I opined that it was perfectly acceptable for the venue. When you’re a student, dancing for other students at your level, you don’t need a fancy costume. You need something that you can afford, something simple that doesn’t clutter up your body, but beyond that you should focus on enjoying performing in a safe place. The Bella, while lovely, was really more fancy than the venue needed. Her instincts that it wasn’t the right costume for the music were dead-on, but that here the venue and level really trumped the music…somewhere else, with a different focus, would be different.
My Fan thanked me and we sat together. She gave me an extra veil so I could sit on the floor in my short dress. She introduced me to a friend of hers who had also enjoyed my performance at the Artemis show. We all sat in a large circle and the dancer entered at many points.
My Fan was wonderful company. Without her I think I would have been more focused on what needed to be worked on with certain dancers. My fan cheered and waved her hands frantically at any dancer she slightly knew. I said only the good things I could think of when watching dancer, and kept quiet. Teaching is also about knowing when to shut up and let people been enthusiastic.
There were dancers who were painful to watch. There was a grimace so pronounced that it hurt to watch, some violent zilling, some rolling around on the floor in catharsis and then thrusting the open crotch at nice audience members, and the abuse of a veil that had done no wrong that I could see. The studio had mirrors on two sides, so some dancer focused their eyes on themselves in the mirror instead of the audience members slightly lower. That was the only tip I gave My Fan “remember, don’t watch yourself…connect with us or focus beyond us…but don’t be watching yourself.”
But there was a lot of sweetness as well…and overall, even the crotching seemed more misguided than aggressive.
My Fan was very cute, and in the moments that she really lit up and moved she was delightful to watch. I did not tell My Fan her song really required a more dramatic entrance…I think there should be a law against allowing beginners to come out hidden behind a veil because I am sick of it and it is a move that really requires more confidence to make it mysterious…but she got into it and the energy picked up when she started really moving. I told her that she had a lovely shimmy, which she did. I had shimmy envy.
The Bella turned out to probably be the best dancer of the evening. She could have slowed down a bit, but she had the technique and performance skills…it just needs to sink in a little more. She was lovely to watch and had obviously worked hard to create a full-feeling set with the 7:22 she had.
Ansuya entered when she was dancing, and approached her later to praise her. I also praised her. Later, when she came over to sit with us, I did scold her a little for starting to make the “no no no no…” response to complements.
The tribal fusion trio watched themselves as the danced, which created a disconnect. They also did a move that I can only describe as trio-birthing-floorwork; Shoulders, head, and upper back on the floor, pelvis in the air, feet about a foot and a half apart, and undulating to a center point. They did it twice. I do not recommend doing it once. I do not want to see loli-dolls mime birthing undulations.
I only gave feedback when asked…except for the Eman girl, who I’m told is a teacher, because I felt she needed to know where to move the straps on her bra so that it wouldn’t stick out, empty, from her chest. I kept explaining that she was such a delightful dancer that I’d wanted to concentrate on “Oooooooh! Lovely!” instead of “ooh…oh…is that…can I see a nipple? Oh I hope not…” She was a delightful dancer and I would have enjoyed it if I hadn’t been able to see that her breasts didn’t meet up with the inside fo her bra. She took it very well and we danced a bit when it was all over. When I said my goodbyes I saw Mishaal take her by the elbow and lead her into a corner saying ‘That was lovely, there’s just one little thing…” which I assume was about the perilous bra top. Ansuya, Mishaal and I had all watching her with this odd “oh, shit…noooo…” face. She was a trooper though. After that I pity her even more for having bought the Tanishq Eman, Tanisq is a bra filler if there ever was one.
The evening ended with Mishaal agreeing to do a quick dance. She was joined by Shanti, her 4 year old son, who was too excited from the evening’s event and all the attention he gets when he comes to an event to stay put. Shanti ran in circles around her, grabbing her veil like a crazed cat, until she relented, picked him up, and danced with him, spinning him out and bringing him close. The effect was stunning and a few of us teared up. You have to understand that Mishaal’s got that willowy earth-goddess thing going on, and the contrast between her earthy cool and the small-firecracker nature of Shanti was stunning. I’m not really mother-earth, mother-child oriented, but I know stunning when I see it.
I said my goodbyes and walked with a girl who I now think of as “Egyptian wide” (for the overly wide sparsely flowered belt she wore) to the station. We talked about other workshops she’s traveling to take and about costuming.
The event did remind me that I am glad that I started making costumes and buying used early on. I like my odd fixer-uppers and self mades.
I boarded my train and stitched beads while listening to The Poisonwood Bible. Once home, I washed my face, removing the light concealer from my bruised eyelid, and fell deep asleep.
