I haven’t had much time for writing lately, due to major life / work things happening – some good, some bad. It’s at times like this that I like to revisit my dance roots and think about why I dance.
Earlier in the year, I got in a total funk about dance in general. Could not enjoy it, hated practice, and was questioning why I was doing it at all. I couldn’t do Egyptian style well, my fusion was more bouncy and glittery than dark, and I had very little exposure to the folkloric side of Middle Eastern dance. I felt awkward and directionless. At the same time, major developments were happening with my day job and I was being asked to teach dance, so I was conflicted about whether to make a more serious commitment to dance than I already had.
This seems pretty funny in retrospect. I placed in the 2010 Nationals, and a few months later suddenly had a crisis about whether I wanted to continue dancing.
To get out of my funk, I started gathering songs that I was very excited about creating choreography for, and started learning new technique some familiar props. A sword workshop by the lovely Belladonna also helped me discover a new prop that I had previously never worked with. I also started dropping in on non-Middle Eastern dance classes, just to shake things up a bit. I met some incredible teachers, and found some seriously inspiring classes that forced me to think of movement in a different way.
The reason I was in a funk because I was just bored with belly dance. I had worked on the same set and movements for months, burned myself out, then was suddenly in the situation where I had to look at becoming a teacher and performing as a source of income, having not taught before and being rather freaked out by the whole idea.
How often do we stagnate in our practice because we don’t do things that challenge us, or learn a new (or old) way of interpreting our standard vocabulary? For me, the combination of western classes, new props, and a focus old-school folkloric technique with multiple teachers helped me learn to start enjoying my practice again. It’s vitally important to constantly study with multiple teachers, regardless of current skill level or style, just to get a different interpretation of what we do. We all do the same steps, regardless of what branch of belly dance we’re on, but a new way of interpreting them makes us well-rounded. Even a simple concept can be revolutionary if we haven’t heard it before.
Another question is, do we restrict ourselves creatively because we are faced with earning a living off of art? As a professional designer, my art is reserved for work hours. I haven’t made any fine art in my free time in over ten years, and I was concerned that making middle eastern dance a large part of my profession would make it suffer in the same way. I like my day job, so leaving it completely isn’t an option.
On that same token, how much do we cheapen what we do when we perform for free? I get requests to perform for free regularly, and I’m occasionally open to it if it’s for a charity I agree with, but the assumption is that I’ll perform at the drop of a hat just for “fun”. People don’t see the 2 hours of prep work that goes into just getting ready, not to mention the 20+ a week of training, classes and creating sets, and the long hours spent making costumes or treating injuries. Performances are HUGELY stressful, especially for me, and time spent doing free shows can often be better used for training, spending time with cool people, or you know, actual paying work.
I like what I do. I belly dance because it entertains and amuses me to be an professional type during the day, and this shady character dancing in a bar at night. I like the constant training and the perfection of the crisp movements of a drum solo to the deceptively difficult fluidity of taqsim. Some people like what I do, and I am grateful for their support, and if they want to give me money, that’s even better.
But it’s still a job. Renewing and reclaiming my practice on occasion has to be part of the job description.
