So, what’s this year’s theme, you ask?  Frankly, I’m not sure.  Maybe it’s forgiveness, compassion, gratitude, growth…  Well, all of those things are important, but one idea prevails: Trusting my gut and my intuition.  Because my innards seem to know what’s better for me than my frontal lobe does.  Trusting my gut also means trusting myself.  Why is trusting your own self so damn hard, and why is it when we do, we feel so free and liberated, but we were so scared to take the leap?

2009 helped me realize the strength in myself and my abilities… In 2010 I aim to continue my journey.

How will this year help you?

Here are a few thoughts to get you started:

….

I don’t mean commitment in a relationship sense.  This blog is certainly not to discuss those issues. But rather to committing to an idea or artistic endeavor, movement, choreography, or event.

I’m a procrastinator, and I know that the main reason I procrastinate is because I’m a perfectionist.  I wait until the “right moment” to do something – to write a new blog post, create a new workshop topic, make a new flier.  And I used to be a lot more of a procrastinator, but what I’ve needed to do is just commit.

This applies directly to dance and to art in general.  Anyone who’s read The War of Art by Steven Pressfield (read it!) knows that procrastination is a form of resistance.  Resistance prevents us from moving forward, from growing, from making progress and making art.  My hesitation to write a new blog post is not only because I am afraid that this post won’t be as good as my last posts, but also because I’m worried about making this blog post the most amazing blog post ever. Or, what if this just isn’t good enough?  If I’d just sit my butt down and write a blog post, then maybe I wouldn’t be worrying about all these things, and I’d actually write something worth reading.

When it comes to dance, these same concepts apply.  I see students in my classes hesitate in executing a technical movement, because they so want to get the movement right. (I’m terribly guilty of this myself, not only with dance but also when I was a figure skater.)  I’ll try so hard to get whatever technique correct that I won’t commit myself fully to the movement itself.  If I’m learning a choreography in a workshop and I forget a section, instead of dancing that part of the choreography at half effort–or worse, just standing there and not doing it at all–I should dance something simple with dedication and poise until I can catch up to the song again with the steps that I do know.

What we need to do is commit to the movement with the mindfulness to know when we’re doing it incorrect, but at least we’ve given it our best effort.  Rather than tip-toeing around the movement in an attempt to get it right the first time, we need to just jump right in and give it a go.

We also need a balance between gusto and perfection. While I admire a dancer who tackles a movement or a performance at full-force, such enthusiasm can also lead to a messy and unpolished performance.  But what’s worse is when an artist or dancer agonizes over one set or song so much that they never feel it’s ever right to perform, and then we’re all robbed of sharing that art.

Perfectionism is the enemy of art.  I need to remember that, and I’m writing this blog post to let you all that I am committed to writing more, even if my posts aren’t perfect.  I’m also writing this to remind you all to make art, even if it doesn’t always live up to your own personal standards.  The only way to improve is to keep creating and to learn from our own mistakes.

But, I’m not freaking out about it.  I used to fret that I hadn’t had a good, new idea in weeks, months.  So, why am I not too worried about it?

• Ruts happen to everyone.  Even the most prolific artists have periods of their lives when the muse just isn’t speaking to them.  I trust that, as I have before, I will find my way out of the rut and be inspired again.
• The Universe has a way of pulling you out of your rut.  Trust it.  I know that eventually that new song will come, or maybe I’ll talk to someone and it will spark a new idea and the muse will return.
• I’m taking small measures to entice the muse back to me.  When I’m not feeling inspired in my dancing, I focus on other things.  I listen to music to which I’m not intending to dance.  I just listen and enjoy.  I’m not making new costuming.  I’m reading books that are unrelated to dance.  Creativity is the merging of two unrelated concepts or ideas, so, ideally, if I spend enough time not seeking the muse, she will return when she’s ready.
• Worry and stress will only push away the muse.  I know that if I fret, I’ll just worry myself into a stifled, uncreative frenzy, and then I’ll really be stuck.
• I’m still doing things I enjoy.  I am writing in my journals, collaging, saving images on the web that catch my eye, taking walks around my neighborhood, chatting about dance and art with my friends, watching movies with my husband, running simple errands (yes, I enjoy that), and teaching my classes and guiding my wonderful students.  I have not given up on joy.  My life is full of joy right now… and maybe the muse is just on an extended vacation.

So… when dancers ask me what I do when I’m feeling uninspired, stuck, or blah about my art, I tell them, “Just relax.  The muse will return when she’s ready.”  Trust that you’ll be inspired again.  Keep your eyes and ears and heart open for new ideas, music, costuming ideas, and dance movements.  Take time to enjoy the little things in life.

What do you do when you’re feeling stuck?

The Yiddish word schtick means a comic theme or gimmick. The word schtick, having been applied to show-business and the entertainment world for over a century, has a connotation of a contrived and often-used act—something done deliberately, but perhaps not sincerely.

I’ve been in the performance world since I was six years old, and believe me: I’ve seen a lot of schtick.  Most of the time this schtick is used to gain the judges’ or audience’s attention by using something other than technical or dramatic skill.  Schtick is also often used by performers to cover up a lack of mastery of the main skill being demonstrated, a distraction from the fact that the performer is really only mediocre or just not accomplished at her craft.  This might mean flashy or strange costuming that doesn’t fit with the performance, unusual props that the performer hasn’t mastered, the act of stripping off an article of costuming (I admit, I did this once as a figure skater: I removed a big fake mink stole as I skated to “Take Back Your Mink” from the musical Guys and Dolls).

Why are some belly dancers using schtick?  One reason is that I think it’s to cover up the fact that they’re only average dancers and performers, and they feel like they need something else, something extra, something that no one else has… but more often than not, these little extra things have nothing to do with bellydance. What does stumbling around on stage with a wine bottle have to do with bellydance, a dance form that comes from an area of the world where the main religion, Islam, bans alcohol? (Think about that one for a bit.)  What do fishnet tights, short skirts, and ruffly bustles have to do with bellydance, a dance form from a region with plenty of rich textiles and jewelry in which we can find much inspiration?  Why must a dancer don a plain costume, only to strip it off and reveal her beaded and sequinned costume underneath?  Is this what bellydancers have resorted to in order to be noticed by the event producers in order to be offered a coveted teaching position at next year’s event?  And you all know that I am not the ethnic police, but I’d love to see more deference to the original art form that we call “bellydance.”

I also suspect that many of the performances that use what I call “gratuitous fusion” (fusion for fusion’s sake, not because the elements being fused work together or should be put together) are a way for the dancers to act out their unfulfilled fantasies, and belly dance is just one means for them to be something they’re not in their day-to-day lives.  There are times and places for people to act out their fantasies, but I really don’t think that the stage at a bellydance festival is the place for a dancer to pretend she’s a can can dancer, saloon girl, or burlesque dancer… unless she’s fusing some damny good bellydance in with that routine, and performing whatever she’s fusing in an accomplished, respectful manner.  Unfortunately, more often than not, accomplished dancing is noticeably lacking in such fantasy performances.

Of course, professional dancers with years and years of training can get away with a little schtick.  But even they get bored with their own routines.  And frankly, I’m bored with the schtick, particularly schtick labeled as “fusion”.  Seriously, ladies (and gentlemen):

• You don’t need to imitate Vaudeville routines.  Frankly, you shouldn’t unless you’ve had some serious acting training.
• You don’t need a gimmick.  If you think your dance alone isn’t memorable, maybe you should work on finding your voice as a dancer.
• You don’t need a costume that cost you more than you spent on training in one year.  In fact, I highly recommend you spend more on your training than your costuming.  Otherwise you’re just a pretty girl on stage.
• You don’t need to dance with the latest prop, and if you do use a prop, be a master at the prop.  Don’t bring a sword, veil, water pot, snake, basket, fire, or anything else on stage with you unless you really know how to use it.  Frankly, I’m not impressed by the mere presence of the prop on stage with the dancer.  I want to see that dancer really integrate that prop into her performance so that she is one with that prop, whatever it might be.

This isn’t belly fashion, belly comedy, belly acting, belly gimmicks, or belly schtick.  It’s belly dance.  So, please, for the sake of the future of this dance form, go learn technique, culture, and history; master your craft; and master your dance if you’re going to continue in the belly dance world.

But I couldn’t have survived seven years of building a dance career while holding a full-time job without developing a few balancing tricks.

Surviving the Day Job as a Creative

Many of you out there either dance part-time or as a hobby, and when you’re not dancing, you’re spending forty or more hours of the week at your Day Job. Maybe you’re an artist, and you’re working a Day Job to make sure you can pay the rent or mortgage.  If you’re a Creative person, the Day Job often can be stifling. All the red tape, bureaucracy, adherence to rules and the way things have “always been done” can really hamper your desire to come up with new and unconventional ways to do your work. Plus, spending more than 40 hours a week at a desk when you could be dancing can be incredibly frustrating.

How can you turn all of that around to your advantage?

The most obvious answer is to leave your stale Day Job and find something else that suits you better. But often this isn’t always an option, and sometimes it’s not even necessary. You might actually like your Day Job… you just need to find a better way to balance your responsibilities. Here are some other tips that might help you escape the mental cubicle, even if you don’t escape the physical one:

• Find an advocate and seek out other Creatives. Surely there are other people in your organization who are Creatives and who are just as frustrated with the Conventionals as you are. Find them. It really helps if you can find people in your organization who have more experience than you; they not only know how to cope with the system, but they have also found ways to work it, hence their still working there!

• Prove yourself with conventional work but take an unconventional approach. It is possible to do your day-to-day work in a creative manner. Try new ways to complete your tasks. You might find that trying creative ways to approach your work will help you excel at it. If you can find ways to better like your work, you will be able to perform better, proving yourself and your management that unconventional methods don’t always have to be scary.

• Don’t be ashamed of your Evening Hobby. Yes. It’s true. I’m a belly dancer. Telling people is, I guess, a little like coming out of the closet. Personally, I’ve never had a problem telling my co-workers that I bellydance. They actually find it fascinating and ask lots of questions about it. You don’t need to hide your hobby at work.

• Believe in your talents, not only as a Creative, but as an inherent member of your organization or company. You can believe and work for the mission of your organization without being completely sucked into the bureaucracy of it. You might have to take some risks to do so, but if that means being able to approach your work the way you want to, those risks will be worth it.
  

• Have fun at work. Don’t let the sterility of the naysayers infect your personal workspace. Keep things at your desk that make you happy: toys, photos, inspirational quotes, and other things that might be silly to the typical passer-by. Chances are your company doesn’t have a rule prohibiting you from tacking up some awesome photography on your cubicle walls. (…and if that is the case, maybe you should leave that Day Job!)
  

• Use your “free time” wisely. This is probably one of the most important and yet hardest elements of balancing a full-time day job and a full-time creative job. When I got home from work, on nights when I wasn’t teaching classes, I would immediately jump on the dance business that needs to be completed. When I’m feeling overwhelmed with dance business, I make lists of what I need to do. If going home and working on your dance business starts feeling like a chore, remember why you dance and what about it makes you happy. Also remember that you can’t be a working dancer without taking care of the business end of it. Personally, most of the time, I find joy in completing my dance business in the evenings.
  

• Take advantage of alternative work schedules. Many workplaces today are offering alternative work schedules. I’ve found that working an alternative schedule has been extremely beneficial for my dance business. I was on a “flex” schedule, which afforded me every other Friday off of work, which meant that I can use that day either to work on dance business at home, or use that day to travel to a workshop, event, or festival without using my precious vacation leave. If your workplace hasn’t institutionalized alternative work schedules, it still wouldn’t hurt to ask your management about it.

Those are just some ways I’ve managed to find somewhat of a balance between the Day Job and the Dance Job. It’s possible to do both, and do both well. It just takes some careful planning and a little bit of risk taking.

Of course, sometimes push comes to shove and you have to take the leap to do what you love.  Life’s too short to just like what you do for a living.

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.

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?