In the world of tribal fusion belly dance, dancers have been taking every possible dance form and trying to “fuse” it with tribal style belly dance, or at least with belly dance.  I’m not sure why, but I suspect that most of this fusion is driven by a desire to come up with the next “new cool thing.”  (Of course, I could be totally wrong!)  We, as tribal and fusion dancers, almost take it for granted that we can take any other dance form in the world, mush it into a choreography, and present it at a fusion dance festival or show.  But what if we took our fusions to the dance communities from which we are pulling?

Because, I have to say it: Many fusions I’m seeing aren’t well-researched, deeply-studied, or solid… and I wonder why some are created in the first place because they just don’t seem to fit together well.  Some fusions I’ve seen are like watching a fish trying to ride a bicycle; sure it would be a cool sight to see, but why even try?

There.  I said it.  Sue me.

What if we took a half-assed fusion of, say, Hawaiian hula and belly dance and took it to a respected hula festival?  What if we took our “interpretations” of Indian classical dance and showed them to an audience of respected Indian gurus?  What if we took our strange blend of vaudeville, cabaret, and vintage dance and performed it for an audience of true stage performers and actors?  I might be going out on a limb here, but I suspect that those communities would react in several ways: They would probably be offended, confused, and might respect our already ill-respected belly dance community even less.  They might ask, “what on Earth do they think they’re doing?” They might also laugh at us.  (And this is not to say that all fusion is bad fusion.  There are some remarkable blends of belly dance with other world and Western dance forms.)

I’m not sure what the solution or approach is to mitigating this issue.  I understand that as artists we reserve the right to experiment, play, and try new things.  I’m not calling on people to stop having fun.  I am, of course, a fusion dancer: I consider my primary fusions to be tribal belly dance, oriental belly dance, and a bit of modern club dancing.  I’m currently in an ATS basics class; dancing regularly with two amazing breakdancers; and continuing my study of oriental dance, music, and culture. And I will say this: my fusion has been a completely organic process.  I haven’t tried to force any sort of styling into my dance for the sake of being “cool”, “different”, or to gain attention from the wider belly dance community.  And I’m not saying that all fusionists blend dance styles just to get noticed, but that certainly does happen.

I’ve been saying this for a while: there are some fusions that work and others that don’t.  To put it another way, peanut butter and chocolate might not appeal to everyone, but for the most part, it’s a really good blend of flavors.  Peanut butter and anchovies, though?  I’m not sure that’s a fusion we really need to have.

We have a responsibility to truly respect the cultures from which we are pulling when we fuse.  What I feel like I’m seeing in this community is a lot of, “Oh that’s cool! Let’s blend that with belly dance!” and not much more consideration before putting that new fusion on a stage.  Maybe, just for a moment, think of how members of that community from which you are pulling will react to your fusion.  Will they ask, “What on Earth are you DOING??” or will they compliment you for your tasteful blend of something that’s near and dear to their hearts with something that’s near and dear to yours?

We’ve all seen it: Someone posts an unsuspecting dancer’s performance on a bellydance discussion forum and other dancers jump right in to badmouth the performance as if the dancer in question has no access to the forum, and as if she or he would never hear that other dancers are trash talking about her.

The internet, with its convenient anonymity and inherent distance between users, is no excuse for demeaning or insulting language.

Under the guise of “protecting traditional bellydance” or “starting meaningful discussion”, I’ve seen conversations turn into bash-fests.  Just because you don’t know a dancer and you think her performance was not good, lacking taste, or otherwise offensive, that does not mean that you should insult her on the internet in a forum in which she can read the comments.  In my mind, this behavior is akin to schoolyard drama between pre-teen girls.

What are you doing when you bash a dancer on the internet? You’re probably trying to validate your own dance by putting down someone else’s performance.  Instead of spending your time on the internet looking for what’s wrong with someone else’s dance, I say go work on your own.  If there’s something about another’s performance that bothers you, and that person hasn’t solicited feedback directly from you or the internet forum in question, please don’t talk about that dancer as though they’ll never read it.  And if it bothers you, don’t do it yourself.  If you’re an instructor, you can teach your own students to avoid dancing like the dancer in question… but please don’t mention the dancer by name.

This sort of behavior does nothing to lift up this dance form.  It isn’t professional. It just isn’t nice.  I believe it does more damage to the reputation of the dancer doing the badmouthing than the one being badmouthed.  But maybe that’s just because I don’t like bullies.  And I know we’re not all nice all the time, but at least try when you’re speaking in public, especially in a forum that is searchable, archived, and available for anyone to read.

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.

What you might not know about me is that this summer I have been facing a bit of an identity crisis.  The Asharah that you might hire to teach and perform in your city or at your festival is probably the Asharah of two years ago.  Angry and dark, and fighting.  But that Asharah has changed into someone softer, more delicate, and less discontent with the world.  What happens when you hire the Asharah two years ago and gets the Asharah today?  Do you appreciate the Asharah who is in your city now, or do you lament the fact that “she’s not what she used to be”?

At the end of the day, I am a belly dancer.  And within the genre of belly dance are a multitude of influences, styles, music choices, and costuming choices that I want to feel that I can explore and perform.  I want to feel free to change, evolve, morph, and experiment.

Like a rock band who has changed throughout the decades, playing different sounds, and eschewing popular trends, I want to feel as though I can follow my artistic convictions without being called a sell-out, or without my audiences thinking that I have betrayed them.

For if you are a true fan of an artist, you will change with them.  You will accept their evolution.  You will learn to appreciate and love their artistic explorations.  The Beatles of the early 1960s were not the Beatles of the late 1960s, but that does not negate the fact that I find all of their music entertaining and solid.  And of course my favorite band, Rush, sounds so different today than they did in the 1970s… and yet I love all of their work, partially because they have allowed themselves to change and mature.  (Not that I think that I am nearly as popular and amazing as the Beatles or Rush… far from it!  But hopefully you get what I’m talking about…)

I would like to state for the record that I do not consider myself only a “fusion belly dance artist.”  At the end of the day, I am a belly dancer.

Behind me I have years of training in oriental and tribal styles of belly dance.  If I choose to dance to oriental music, or a belly dance drum solo, don’t accuse me of “going cabaret.”  I have not “gone cabaret”; if you look beyond my costuming, you’ll see that I’ve always been cabaret (probably more cabaret than tribal, really) and I have always blended styles to create what I want to be.  I want to dance in a way that comes the most naturally and organically to me.  What comes most naturally to me will change from year to year, as it should.  A true artist is never satisfied with their current state.  As Bob Dylan said (he’s another artist who changed through the years), “He not busy being born is busy dying.”  So true, so true.

I refuse to be stuck in a box, or to keep myself in a box.  I draw inspiration from so many sources, so many dancers, so many artists, and so many musicians, and I want to feel free to pull from all of them when performing.  To call me a “gothic belly dancer” or a “tribal fusion belly dancer” is to confine me within a certain paradigm, a certain expectation.  And I don’t want to feel like I must live up to anyone’s expectation of who I am as an artist.

And… at the end of the day, I ask for you, dear readers, to do the same.  Feel free to change and morph and evolve… because that is how great art is made.

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.

I pride myself on the fact that I have “made it”, so to speak, on my own, and through the generosity of friends and contacts who saw something in me and my art worth promoting.

I have struggled to be myself, my own dancer, blazing my own path without schmoozing, kissing anyone’s ass, or trying to copy anyone else’s style or look. That doesn’t mean I haven’t been tempted to ask to be part of a festival or show when I thought I might have been overlooked, to join something that would bring me greater visibility in the dance community, or to change my costuming or music just to be noticed… but to do might have meant working with people who I find unsavory, sacrificing a part of my individuality, and ultimately violating my sense of integrity and my fundamental instinctual need to create to honest art.

I never compromised my art to be more well-known. I never once sold out.

I believe that I am doing this the hard way. I am not a member of a famous dance troupe. I don’t have a gimmick. I choose music that moves me tremendously but often annoys the crap out of other people. I have not tried to rub shoulders with famous dancers just to be noticed. I am not a squeaky wheel. I have worked dance and art in between a full-time job, a loving husband, and my family. I have damaged my body, fighting exhaustion and rehabilitating from injuries. I have cracked my emotional calm over and over again, facing the darkest parts of my psyche, my frustrations, my expectations, and most of all my fear. I haven’t expected opportunities to be handed to me. I do not expect favors. I am unflinchingly alone in my artistic journey, and I am fiercely proud of it.

I have chosen to quietly perfect my technique, to focus on training and conditioning, to build on my artistic convictions, and to be me at all costs.

When I decided to pay less attention to the opportunities that others had, and more attention to my own progress as an artist, that’s when the opportunities started knocking at my door. WorldDanceNewYork asked me to produce a DVD. Marta Vizueta recommended me to teach at DC’s largest non-profit dance studio, Joy of Motion, and they hired me. Saphira asked me to join the faculty at her studio, Saffron Dance in Arlington, Virginia, which after only two years of business has already won “Best New Business” and “Best Place to Work Out” awards for the city of Arlington. Festival promoters around the world have asked me to teach, to perform, and to be a part of their events. And a few years before that, several of my fellow dancers suggested me to WorldDanceNewYork to appear on the first Gothic Bellydance DVD.

I never asked for any of it. But I am so thankful for every producer, dancer, artist, and friend who has offered me a gig, a teaching position, a performance slot, a positive DVD review, a fan e-mail, or a compliment. I have discovered that true gratitude goes a long way, and that, at least in the dance world, karma happens. And I believe that the dancers who stay true to themselves, and who stay humble throughout their careers are the ones who ultimately succeed.

Being true to yourself isn’t easy. It’s perhaps the hardest thing an artist can do. But the rewards are worth the struggle.

This is my statement of purpose… to remain true to my convictions, to never compromise my art to make myself more appealing or popular, to continue to grow and learn and seek knowledge from my mentors and colleagues both in and out of the dance world, and to be an example for dancers who are seeking their own artistic path.

If you had to, right this moment, right your own statement of purpose for 2009, on what would you focus?