An audience member at a show I once performed at told me that my dance performance remided her of the Japanese art of Butoh.
Knowing little about Butoh, I decided to learn more. A few months back I found this beautiful video of the artist Kazuo Ono who was at least in his 80's at the time.
Info from "bobdena" on YouTube:
A short clip of butoh's co-founder Kazuo Ono dancing. Date unknown, approximately 1980, from the documentary Dance of Darkness by Edin Velez.
Kazuo Ohno passed away June 1, 2010, at the age of 103. We lost a great man and a great light to dancers and performers around the world. May we all be blessed with a life as full and rewarding as his was.
Showing posts with label Art. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Art. Show all posts
Monday, August 29, 2011
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Witch Dance
I love this piece Witch Dance, the one for which Mary Wigman is of course most famous. The German Expressionists certainly knew how to do shadow material!
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Bellydance Costuming as Art
I recently read an interview in a national Bellydance mag with a respected and widely sought after Bellydance teacher and performer. When asked for advice she would impart to new dancers, she said (and I paraphrase) that one should spend more money learning the dance via workshops, classes and videos, than on costuming.
As a Bellydance teacher, I agree. Albeit with some reservation.
I agree, if one's main focus is on becoming an excellent Bellydancer. To become a Bellydancer with a capital "b", it takes years of dedication to learning the form, cultural context, history, and traditions of this dance. Correct technique, form and fitness are a must. One must attend shows and events to watch other dancers, and learn the difference between styles. It takes many years of study to become a master, and to find ones own voice.
So what is it that makes me uneasy about this idea that costuming should only come later, AFTER one has become an advanced dancer?
Well, let me tell you a bit about myself. I'm a Bellydancer, but I consider myself to be an Artist first. Bellydance is one medium that I use to express my inner world. (I'm also a musician, actor, poet, and I've been known to paint and sculpt once in a while, too.)
I'm a Shaman. It's my job in this incarnation to interpret the underworld and inner Archetypal landscape to the community. The medium is not the important thing; that's only the vehicle. I'M only the vehicle. It's more about the message; the content. It's about the embodiment of spirit, and communication between the invisibles and the audience.
For me, costuming is a major part of the art, part of the ritual. The making of the costuming is a part of a contemplative practice. Sometimes other people make the costumes for me (I'm bad at sewing) but in this case the envisioning of the costume is the art. What would The Morrigan wear to tell her story? How would She appear? I let Her tell me.
I spend many hours opening myself up to spirit, listening to what I'm being told. I also do a ton of research. Once an archetype talks to me, and I know that I will be performing her, I do my homework and find everything I can about her mythology and history. As a primarily right-brained person, I work with the symbols I find and make connections between them. It is in this way that I create my theatrical persona.
I then become this character. I practice being her. I practice being her walking down the street, etc. She becomes more and more solid this way. Once I hit the stage, I'm as ready as I can be to channel her.
So, my orientation toward Bellydance has been different from many. I love this dance for its own sake, deeply and truly. But I do it as an Artist/Shaman first, not as a Bellydancer first. It took me many years to realize that fact fully; with all the pressure to become an expert on Middle Eastern culture, to be fully versed in every bit of dance vocabulary possible, to know all the drum rhythms and their names, to fit into the Bellydance community. I've had quite a journey, and I've learned who I am and who I am not: I am NOT a keeper of tradition, though I am well versed in it. I'm very glad that some people are keepers, but this is not my path.
Yes, I think that technique and form are paramount to being a master dancer--how else could one tell a story well? My tools need to be effective and sharp, and that means continuing to improve my dance skills, honing my craft, making my work better and better. The more control, elegance and athleticism I can express with my body, the happier the archetype will be to speak through it.
Would I tell my students to work on their dance skills first, and only then spend their money on costuming?
Here's what I would say: If you aspire to be a dancer, you need to know how to dance. It is not OK to hop onstage with a great costume but not be able to dance well. Not if you want to call yourself Bellydancer. Whatever art form you use, you need to hone your craft before you present to the world.
HOWEVER, costuming and creating persona is an art form, too. It needn't come second. Creating costuming can help you find your voice, and give you impetus to learn technique. Beauty loves to show itself. But it requires right timing. Pay close attention to your body and its feelings; it will tell when you are ready. If you create a beautiful costume to wear, give your art what it deserves and dance it well. Or sing it well. Or act it well. If it is your inclination, be an artist on every level you can.
There are many valid approaches. For me, costuming is not decoration on what is essentially technical prowess, nor is it icing on the cake or anything like that. The movement needs to have meaning, the costume does, too. The art is made as a whole.
As a Bellydance teacher, I agree. Albeit with some reservation.
I agree, if one's main focus is on becoming an excellent Bellydancer. To become a Bellydancer with a capital "b", it takes years of dedication to learning the form, cultural context, history, and traditions of this dance. Correct technique, form and fitness are a must. One must attend shows and events to watch other dancers, and learn the difference between styles. It takes many years of study to become a master, and to find ones own voice.
So what is it that makes me uneasy about this idea that costuming should only come later, AFTER one has become an advanced dancer?
Well, let me tell you a bit about myself. I'm a Bellydancer, but I consider myself to be an Artist first. Bellydance is one medium that I use to express my inner world. (I'm also a musician, actor, poet, and I've been known to paint and sculpt once in a while, too.)
I'm a Shaman. It's my job in this incarnation to interpret the underworld and inner Archetypal landscape to the community. The medium is not the important thing; that's only the vehicle. I'M only the vehicle. It's more about the message; the content. It's about the embodiment of spirit, and communication between the invisibles and the audience.
For me, costuming is a major part of the art, part of the ritual. The making of the costuming is a part of a contemplative practice. Sometimes other people make the costumes for me (I'm bad at sewing) but in this case the envisioning of the costume is the art. What would The Morrigan wear to tell her story? How would She appear? I let Her tell me.
I spend many hours opening myself up to spirit, listening to what I'm being told. I also do a ton of research. Once an archetype talks to me, and I know that I will be performing her, I do my homework and find everything I can about her mythology and history. As a primarily right-brained person, I work with the symbols I find and make connections between them. It is in this way that I create my theatrical persona.
I then become this character. I practice being her. I practice being her walking down the street, etc. She becomes more and more solid this way. Once I hit the stage, I'm as ready as I can be to channel her.
 |
| Self-portrait as The Washer at the Ford |
So, my orientation toward Bellydance has been different from many. I love this dance for its own sake, deeply and truly. But I do it as an Artist/Shaman first, not as a Bellydancer first. It took me many years to realize that fact fully; with all the pressure to become an expert on Middle Eastern culture, to be fully versed in every bit of dance vocabulary possible, to know all the drum rhythms and their names, to fit into the Bellydance community. I've had quite a journey, and I've learned who I am and who I am not: I am NOT a keeper of tradition, though I am well versed in it. I'm very glad that some people are keepers, but this is not my path.
Yes, I think that technique and form are paramount to being a master dancer--how else could one tell a story well? My tools need to be effective and sharp, and that means continuing to improve my dance skills, honing my craft, making my work better and better. The more control, elegance and athleticism I can express with my body, the happier the archetype will be to speak through it.
Would I tell my students to work on their dance skills first, and only then spend their money on costuming?
Here's what I would say: If you aspire to be a dancer, you need to know how to dance. It is not OK to hop onstage with a great costume but not be able to dance well. Not if you want to call yourself Bellydancer. Whatever art form you use, you need to hone your craft before you present to the world.
HOWEVER, costuming and creating persona is an art form, too. It needn't come second. Creating costuming can help you find your voice, and give you impetus to learn technique. Beauty loves to show itself. But it requires right timing. Pay close attention to your body and its feelings; it will tell when you are ready. If you create a beautiful costume to wear, give your art what it deserves and dance it well. Or sing it well. Or act it well. If it is your inclination, be an artist on every level you can.
There are many valid approaches. For me, costuming is not decoration on what is essentially technical prowess, nor is it icing on the cake or anything like that. The movement needs to have meaning, the costume does, too. The art is made as a whole.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Fear and the Sacred
On my mind is how to maintain a practice of love over fear. Of keeping up the spiritual discipline. Of not letting fear win the day.
Fear.
Fear of what? Fear of the unknown, of losing, of dying maybe. Fear of envy, of guilt, of other people, of not loving enough, or being or having enough.
Fear is insecurity. Fear makes us lie, to be inauthentic, to cheat ourselves and others. Fear leads us down the wrong path, has us reacting instead of acting from what really has heart and meaning. Fear leads to anger, and anger, if it takes us over, has us making the wrong moves.
Not that fear doesn't have its place. Of course, it does. It alerts us to things that are dangerous. It tells us when we are under attack, when we are at risk of being hurt. The resulting anger can help us defend ourselves, to keep our rightful territory. Yes.
But I am talking more about long standing fear, habitual fear. The kind that makes us envious, greedy, silly, elitist, backbiting, cruel, gossipy, overly cautious, trying to control the behavior of others, pointing our fingers. The kind that has us looking over our shoulders, worried that someone is going to take what belongs to us, the kind that has us forgetting what is sacred.
Sacred.
I love this word.
It is the root word of sacrifice.
(ETYMOLOGY: Middle English, from Old French, from Latin sacrificium : sacer, sacred ; see sacred + facere, to make; see dh- in Indo-European roots)
There is always a sacrifice involved in making something sacred. Isn't there? Is that where the fear comes from? That some (presumably false) part of us has to die in order for sacred substance to reveal itself?
My creative life is my primary altar, my creation and performance is my ritual. As an artist, I understand the effect that fear has on creative work. It serves to constrict, to suffocate good ideas, to inhibit intuition, to make things smaller, more shallow. It sucks the soul, the sacred life, right out of it. I have experienced this phenomenon.
I have been subjected to the fear of other artists, too; witnessed it. They create illusions of conformity, scarcity and exclusivity; they pat each other on the backs for their surface success, but fear the transient nature of it...
Fear replicates itself.
People who are sure of themselves never feel the need to put anyone else down to feel OK. When we meet someone like this, we know it! The world gravitates toward people who love themselves, who put love first, before fear. These are the people who encourage us to do the same, who are not afraid of another person's success.
No one owns the sacred. Who could presume to do so! The gods laugh at us for being so foolish!!
Fear.
Fear of what? Fear of the unknown, of losing, of dying maybe. Fear of envy, of guilt, of other people, of not loving enough, or being or having enough.
Fear is insecurity. Fear makes us lie, to be inauthentic, to cheat ourselves and others. Fear leads us down the wrong path, has us reacting instead of acting from what really has heart and meaning. Fear leads to anger, and anger, if it takes us over, has us making the wrong moves.
Not that fear doesn't have its place. Of course, it does. It alerts us to things that are dangerous. It tells us when we are under attack, when we are at risk of being hurt. The resulting anger can help us defend ourselves, to keep our rightful territory. Yes.
But I am talking more about long standing fear, habitual fear. The kind that makes us envious, greedy, silly, elitist, backbiting, cruel, gossipy, overly cautious, trying to control the behavior of others, pointing our fingers. The kind that has us looking over our shoulders, worried that someone is going to take what belongs to us, the kind that has us forgetting what is sacred.
Sacred.
I love this word.
It is the root word of sacrifice.
(ETYMOLOGY: Middle English, from Old French, from Latin sacrificium : sacer, sacred ; see sacred + facere, to make; see dh- in Indo-European roots)
There is always a sacrifice involved in making something sacred. Isn't there? Is that where the fear comes from? That some (presumably false) part of us has to die in order for sacred substance to reveal itself?
My creative life is my primary altar, my creation and performance is my ritual. As an artist, I understand the effect that fear has on creative work. It serves to constrict, to suffocate good ideas, to inhibit intuition, to make things smaller, more shallow. It sucks the soul, the sacred life, right out of it. I have experienced this phenomenon.
I have been subjected to the fear of other artists, too; witnessed it. They create illusions of conformity, scarcity and exclusivity; they pat each other on the backs for their surface success, but fear the transient nature of it...
Fear replicates itself.
People who are sure of themselves never feel the need to put anyone else down to feel OK. When we meet someone like this, we know it! The world gravitates toward people who love themselves, who put love first, before fear. These are the people who encourage us to do the same, who are not afraid of another person's success.
No one owns the sacred. Who could presume to do so! The gods laugh at us for being so foolish!!
Monday, February 16, 2009
The redemptive power of making art...
I love all my songs from The Furies' Prayer. I own them fully and lovingly...
My childhood was one that was filled with confusion, pain, and hardship. Though I also had a lot of joy, I had to struggle to survive.
My album The Furies' Prayer is partly a testament to that time, and to my life as a volatile and confused young adult. I love this album with all my heart, as well as loving that person that I once was (and still am), again, with all my heart. And, in fact, many of the songs aren't autobiographical at all, but come from putting myself into the shoes of others who have endured hardship and torment--the disempowered, the scapegoated, the sacrificed, etc. I have also explored the darker nature of sex and love through this album, as well as the sacred erotic. I have spoken as the Dark Feminine.
I am truly, madly, fiercely in love with the power of art. I believe it has saved my life.
After releasing The Furies' Prayer in Dec 2006, I stopped making music. This was due in part to the fact that my bellydance life began to take over in strange and wonderful ways. But there's also something else: I said what I wanted--what I NEEDED--to say in that album. I named the demons; I screamed and screeched at them, I fought them and lived through them and dreamed them and accused them and wept over them and fucked them and let them do their best and worst to me until...
Change.
Yeah. Wow. I guess so.
It's a funny thing how healing can sometimes sneak up on you, how you can suddenly realize that the person you thought you were is now altered, changed. Isn't that what I always wanted?...
So I sit at my keyboard now, knowing that it's time to make music again. What currently haunts me? It's not so much the betrayals and the rage and the feelings of powerlessness.... No, it's different now.... Oh, not that I can say that I am no longer tormented and angry-- like many an artist, I will always have a membership in that club. There are many elements and themes in my previous work that I still need to work with and explore and express...
It's just that, well, the emphasis is different...shifted.
Love is stronger than death...
Coda died one year and six months ago. My Soul Mate, my Dream Boat, my Cerberus. Thus far, I have been unable to write about him to music. I have danced my grief as The Washer at the Ford, but I haven't sung it...it seems that the grief is too big to say, to sing, it has had to be expressed with my body first.
But there's more. Coda's death put me face to face with Death. As in the mythical stories of mere humans beholding deity without a guise, it nearly extinguished my soul. Death laughed in the face of my selfishness and narcissism, of my needs and expectations and wish to control the outcome. But, as it released Coda from an old and tired body, it also released me from some of the things that bound me to my pain. I was left with grief, yes, but oh, how I loved that boy...My heart could burst with it...Love, pure love, terrible, liberating, joyous, immortal LOVE.
Love.
Love IS stronger than Death.
Love is what matters. Nothing else really does. Love is what heals. Love is not always fluffy, happy, easy, pastel. But it does bring joy, fulfillment, life. There is no point living without it. And there is not a soul that can't have it. (There is always someone to love.)
Death has been my teacher. Art has been my savior. Love is my reason.
My heart is open. I create. I heal. I change. I live.
My music as Aepril Schaile and the Judgement:
www.myspace.com/aeprilschaile
Coda as a young man
My childhood was one that was filled with confusion, pain, and hardship. Though I also had a lot of joy, I had to struggle to survive.
My album The Furies' Prayer is partly a testament to that time, and to my life as a volatile and confused young adult. I love this album with all my heart, as well as loving that person that I once was (and still am), again, with all my heart. And, in fact, many of the songs aren't autobiographical at all, but come from putting myself into the shoes of others who have endured hardship and torment--the disempowered, the scapegoated, the sacrificed, etc. I have also explored the darker nature of sex and love through this album, as well as the sacred erotic. I have spoken as the Dark Feminine.
I am truly, madly, fiercely in love with the power of art. I believe it has saved my life.
After releasing The Furies' Prayer in Dec 2006, I stopped making music. This was due in part to the fact that my bellydance life began to take over in strange and wonderful ways. But there's also something else: I said what I wanted--what I NEEDED--to say in that album. I named the demons; I screamed and screeched at them, I fought them and lived through them and dreamed them and accused them and wept over them and fucked them and let them do their best and worst to me until...
Change.
Yeah. Wow. I guess so.
It's a funny thing how healing can sometimes sneak up on you, how you can suddenly realize that the person you thought you were is now altered, changed. Isn't that what I always wanted?...
So I sit at my keyboard now, knowing that it's time to make music again. What currently haunts me? It's not so much the betrayals and the rage and the feelings of powerlessness.... No, it's different now.... Oh, not that I can say that I am no longer tormented and angry-- like many an artist, I will always have a membership in that club. There are many elements and themes in my previous work that I still need to work with and explore and express...
It's just that, well, the emphasis is different...shifted.
Love is stronger than death...
Coda died one year and six months ago. My Soul Mate, my Dream Boat, my Cerberus. Thus far, I have been unable to write about him to music. I have danced my grief as The Washer at the Ford, but I haven't sung it...it seems that the grief is too big to say, to sing, it has had to be expressed with my body first.
But there's more. Coda's death put me face to face with Death. As in the mythical stories of mere humans beholding deity without a guise, it nearly extinguished my soul. Death laughed in the face of my selfishness and narcissism, of my needs and expectations and wish to control the outcome. But, as it released Coda from an old and tired body, it also released me from some of the things that bound me to my pain. I was left with grief, yes, but oh, how I loved that boy...My heart could burst with it...Love, pure love, terrible, liberating, joyous, immortal LOVE.
Love.
Love IS stronger than Death.
Love is what matters. Nothing else really does. Love is what heals. Love is not always fluffy, happy, easy, pastel. But it does bring joy, fulfillment, life. There is no point living without it. And there is not a soul that can't have it. (There is always someone to love.)
Death has been my teacher. Art has been my savior. Love is my reason.
My heart is open. I create. I heal. I change. I live.
My music as Aepril Schaile and the Judgement:
www.myspace.com/aeprilschaile
Coda as a young man
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