Throughout the weekend, one theme that kept popping into my head: the importance of play in the creative process.  As adults, we sometimes lose touch with our childlike selves, giving in to pressures of being “mature” and “responsible”. (Those aren’t unnecessary quotation marks.) But, if we are to be consistently creative beings, we must remember this is supposed to be FUN goddamnit!

On one side of the creative process is the refinement of technique.  Of dedication to our craft from a methodical, habitual, and dedicated practice.  That would be attending drills and technique classes; learning about rhythm and meter; looking up lyrics to songs; and building strength, flexibility, and stamina.  Without this hard work, we have no platform on which to present our creativity.

On the other side, which is equally as important, is the development of the creative self.  Allowing ourselves to have fun, to be whimsical, to let go and just dance in the privacy of our living room or home studio, of going on small adventures, of going out with friends and being silly.  The Artist’s Way emphasizes the development of diversion as a positive and nourishing activity through the weekly Artist Dates, where you take yourself out, alone, on a date somewhere: a garden, a walk, a movie, a museum, an art store, or anywhere else that might be outside your regular routine.  Observing children can also be a huge inspiration.  I love watching and talking to children between the ages of 5 and 12 because they still have that sense of uninhibited whimsy, yet they’re developing their own distinct personality.  They are instinctual beings, and aren’t yet terribly self-conscious or likely to feel embarrassed about what they like or say.  They inspire me to do the same.  I also love the activities in Twyla Tharp’s book The Creative Habit and the fun and freeing movement explorations in Blom and Chaplin’s The Intimate Act of Choreography.

I’ve realized that I’ve been serious for much too long where I didn’t need to be so.  I am still very serious about my dance practice and attending classes, but the veil of self-consciousness that I have worn for years is worn and tired.

It’s time to shed the facade of seriousness and go have a good time…. and not care what people think about you.  If you follow what brings you joy, you will find more joy, and you’ll find plenty of people with whom to share it.  I certainly did this weekend in Providence.

A few weekends ago, I went ice skating again for the first time in several years.  The first step on the ice was strange, but I was wearing my old familiar skates, which brought me some comfort that I wouldn’t actually kill myself.  I kept telling myself, “You can do this.  You did this for 14 years.  This is all still in your muscle memory.”  And it was.  First I just skated around the rink.  Then I let myself try out single rotation jumps, one by one.  Salchow. Toe Loop. Flip.  All OK.  After a few hours of ice time, I worked up the nerve to try an Axel, which is 1.5 rotations in the air.  And I surprised myself with how easy it was… once I just got out of my own way and let it happen. Once I trusted my body, I was able to land a jump that I hadn’t actually attempted in years.  (So many years that I can’t remember the last time I had tried an Axel.)

With any sort of movement, whether it’s sports or dance or painting, if we have trained and dedicated time to ingraining an action in our bodies, we know it.  Of course we can always improve our skills, but I think a very difficult thing for adults is to trust it.  To let it happen.  To breathe and mentally step out of the way.  Children don’t seem to have this second-guess quality in to their thoughts the way that adults do.  They just do something, and part of that is because they’re too young to have a lot of people tell them they can’t.  They’re also too young to think that they can’t.  Many times when we find something difficult or it seems outside our reach, it isn’t because it isn’t attainable… it’s because we psych ourselves out of it.  We tell ourselves, “Oh, that’s too hard,” or “That’s scary”, or “Oh, I can’t do that”.

The reality is, though, if you tell yourself you can and that you will, you will probably surprise yourself and be able to push yourself well beyond your perceived capabilities and limits.

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There’s also a really fantastic book about this topic called The Body Has a Mind of Its Own, by Sandra and Matthew Blakeslee.  It’s accessible for those without a background in neurology, and I recommend it to anyone interested in how the body learns how to move itself through space.

I do want to encourage dancers to find Middle Eastern music that they like, even if it’s a few songs or just one style.

One of the things that came up in the responses to the last blog is the idea that dancers want to perform to music that is culturally more familiar to them than Middle Eastern music.  I completely understand.  BUT I want to add that one can become acclimated to, appreciate, and learn to understand music that is initially unfamiliar.  Chapter 8, “My Favorite Things: Why Do We Like the Music We Like” in Daniel Levitin’s amazing book This is Your Brain on Music speaks about this very concept.  I’d give you some excerpts here, but a friend is currently borrowing my copy.

I remember the first time I heard Venetian Snares’ crazy breakcore.  I was overwhelmed. I didn’t know how to listen to it.  But the more I listened to it, the more I appreciated it… and then I decided to dance to it.  I think one can do the same with Middle Eastern music.

Also, I am hardly a member of the “Ethnic Police”.  Seriously.  I dressed up as H.R. Giger’s Alien and danced to Autechre’s “Second Bad Vilbel”; how could I EVER say that one should only dance to Middle Eastern music?  I’d be a raging hypocrite!  I do, however, aim to educate.  Part of my job as an instructor is to bring up issues that might be uncomfortable, so that my students and readers can continue to learn and educate themselves.  There are so many dancers out there without mentors, and I strive to be a little beacon of light for those dancers who might not have someone of which to ask questions.

Well, for one thing, it’s better for body alignment, and keeping the feet close together underneath the body keeps the center of gravity focused in one place, rather than two.  It’s a lot easier to dance and keep your balance if the feet and thighs are together.  Really.

For another thing, keeping the feet together looks more elegant, poised, polished, and dancerly than keeping them wide.  If the thighs are open, it also gives off a less modest appearance, and belly dance is, at least in its more Middle Eastern forms, an inherently modest dance.  Pointing the toes also finishes the line of the leg, whether or not the dancer is bare foot, in shoes, or in boots.  And for tribal and fusion dancers, more and more we’re wearing costuming that reveals the feet and sometimes even the thighs, and if the legs aren’t together and if the feet aren’t pointed and elegant, the whole performance can fall apart and just look bad.  A dancer could be performing beautiful torso isolations with a radiant smile, but if her feet aren’t poised, and the thighs are apart, the feet can distract from the whole presentation.

This revealing of feet and legs seems mostly to be happening in troupes trying the tucked-up skirts, striped tights, and boots like the Indigo has been wearing over the past few years.  I’ve seen dancers perform can-can inspired kicks with loose feet, and frankly, it looks unprofessional, unpolished, and lazy.  I’ve seen dancers in skirts tucked up in the front with their legs wide apart, nearly in a squatty position, performing interior hip circles, and other hip work that looks raunchy and overtly sexual when the legs are apart. I’ve also seen dancers in the “garter shorts” style of costuming that also have been dancing with little awareness of what their feet and legs are doing, and those costumes are even more revealing than the skirts and tights inspired by the Indigo.

If we bellydancers are to present to the general public that we’re professionals, that we’re not dancing to be sexual, that we’re just as respectable as a ballet or modern dancer, then we need to pay attention to what our feet and legs are doing.  Sure, you can get away with your feet a little bit wider apart if you’re wearing a classical American Tribal Style 20-yard skirt with pantaloons underneath because chances are, your audience isn’t even going to see your feet.   However, even underneath a skirt and pantaloons, the feet should always be pretty and not an afterthought.  The thighs should be close, which brings an elegant line to the whole body.  And the upper body should be lifted, opening up the solar plexus, heart center, and collarbones.  I would like to see every tribal and fusion dancer pay more attention to their lower bodies, and how that affects the entire performance. The legs and feet are our foundations, what connect us to the ground and the stage. Bellydance, while it is about isolations in the torso, should never neglect the legs and feet.

For new dancers, the next scariest thing to actually performing might be watching that performance on video.  I have to admit that I have never been terrified of watching my belly dance performances on video, but that doesn’t mean that I’ve enjoyed the experience. Believe me.  I’m not exactly a fan of watching my own performances, but doing so is like eating my vegetables: it’s good for me.

The video camera is perhaps the best tool by which to improve your technique, stage presence, and overall appearance on stage.  It will show you all those things you never realized you were doing when you practiced your performance either at home or in front of the studio mirror.  The video camera doesn’t lie.

A videographer at Rakkasah East once gave me some valuable advice about watching my performances. He said to watch my performance three times in a row.  The first time, he said, is when you see everything you did wrong.  The second time is when you see when you did things well.  The third viewing gives you enough distance from yourself to start evaluating your performance with an objective and constructive eye.

The video camera doesn’t have to just be a tool for finding ways to improve your dance.  It can show you how much progress you’ve already made.

If you’ve collected videos of your performances for several years, watching your older videos will show you just how far you’ve come and how much you’ve improved.  We sometimes lose sight of our progress when we’re watching our most current performance.  We pick it apart and see all the things we could have done better… but I guarantee that your performance this weekend was much better than your performance last year.  Or last month.  Or last week.  The camera gives an excellent means of measuring our growth.

Video cameras these days aren’t so expensive.  You can pick up a digital video camera for less than $300 (or less if you enjoy bargain hunting) which is pennies compared to how valuable the camera is to your progression as a performer.  Being able to view your performance the day after you’ve taken the stage is invaluable, whether you’ve been dancing for a year or 20 years.

I touched on my practice habits a bit back in this post about the mind-body connection, but I’ll tell you a secret: I don’t go home after work and practice for hours every day. And I don’t get up before work and do an hour of yoga and then an hour of drills. Frankly, I just don’t have time. And I suspect most of you don’t have that sort of time, either.

Here’s how I practice: I hardly ever stop thinking about dance.

By this, I mean that during my work day I stretch my shoulders and arms, my hips, and back. I take a moment here, a moment there to reconnect with my body. I circle my wrists, ankles, and neck when they’re stiff.

I’m a big fan of the incremental practice. I don’t have a dance studio at home, and therefore, I don’t have a dedicated practice space. (Surprise!) Most of my practice is spent in the moments waiting for the elevator, sitting in my car on my way to and from work (excellent for glute squeezes), and in my seat at work as I listen to my performance music on my iPod over and over again. I also try to take advantage of my workplace’s exercise policy – we are allowed several hours of excused leave a week to exercise in the office building’s gym. We’re lucky enough to have an aerobics room with full-length mirrors, so I spend some time practicing there when I can get away from my desk.

And of course, I imagine myself dancing quite often. The brain is amazingly powerful in this regard, so even when I’m tired or feeling sick, I can still run through movements in my head. Mental practice, however, only really works when you know how to properly execute the physical movement. You can’t imagine yourself doing a particular movement if you don’t know how to actually DO the movement.

Also, I try to get to yoga regularly to keep up my strength, flexibility, stamina, and overall well-being.

What makes a successful practice? I’m not sure. I feel as though my practice is ongoing, perpetual, neverending. I don’t feel like there’s any end to my practice. I don’t go into the studio, practice for an hour or two, call it a day and go home.

Basically, I never forget that I am a dancer and that I need to keep in my mind in touch with my body and muscles all the time.

I recently started reading The Body Has a Mind of Its Own: How Body Maps in Your Brain Help You Do (Almost) Everything Better by Sandra Blakeslee and Matthew Blakeslee. There’s SO much good stuff in this book about how the brain perceives the body and the immediate world around it, and much of it can apply to learning dance. The authors also explain how visualizing body movements can help you execute the actual body movements better than if you had never visualized that movement before.

One of the most striking findings presented in the book is this (my notes in brackets):

Pascual-Leone [a professor of neurology at Harvard Medical School] found that the level of performance after five days of motor imagery [visualizing the movement] was equivalent to three days of physical practice. But when he added one day of physical practice to five days of motor imagery, his subjects were as good as those who practiced only physically for five full days. This means motor imagery can give you a distinct advantage in your training. You can be better with less rather than more physical practice.

I’ve totally found this to be true in my own practice of dance. I urge you to try it too.

Here’s a laundry list of things that I learned as a skater that I still use as a dancer.

• Always practice the basics.  You can’t land a double Axel without being able to land a clean single Axel.  (Just as you won’t be able to layer chest locks over alternating glute squeezes if your glute squeezes aren’t clean.)
• Your costume should reflect your music and the mood of your performance.
• Know where the judges and the audience are sitting.  Play to them.
• Respect your coaches’ knowledge, wisdom, and experience.
• You will have good practice sessions and terrible ones.  Both are par for the course.
• SMILE!  (We would yell this out to whoever was taking the ice at a competition, and inevitably, doing so would make them smile.)
• Wear more make-up for a performance/competition than you think is necessary.
• Make sure your hair is secured before taking the ice (or the stage).
• Always warm-up and stretch.  In that order.
• Quality equipment is expensive and worth the money.
• Don’t be afraid to fall (literally and metaphorically).
• Be an example for new and younger skaters.
• Choreography and improvisation are equally valuable.
• Be patient with your progress.  You won’t be able to accomplish every move right away; some things will take longer to achieve than others.
• Be aware of your personal space lest you run down a fellow skater (or dancer in the studio).
• Never become complacent with your progress.
• Buy and watch the videos of your performances.  The camera doesn’t lie.
• Gimmicks may get you a medal, but technique and skill are far more valuable.
• Be nice to your fellow skaters.  Cattiness and backstabbing will only bring you a bad reputation.
• Bend your knees and tuck your pelvis.
• Remember to have fun.

Do any of you have “past lives” that help you as a belly dancer?  What about those experiences do you use today?