Spring news roundup!

The latest buzz from Scarlet Lotus bellydance classes in Glastonbury and Bridgwater

Wow! That term rushed past!

Back in January I shimmied off to new territories and rekindled the raqs flame in Bridgwater with some weekly classes.

I've met some fabulous dancers, some brand new, some more experienced and I have really enjoyed tuning into the needs of a new area. Our first term ended with some beautiful veil entrance work, accompanied by Doum Tekka on darbuka.

Having taken feedback from the Bridgwater dancers, and potential dancers in the area, I have decided to make a couple of adjustments for the new term. Firstly we will be moving to a new venue. The YMCA has an absolutely beautiful studio space, mirrored with a sprung wood floor and integral sound system. It's a bit more central than the College so it should be more accessible.

I am also adjusting the format. Last term was intended as a Fundamentals course, although I made adjustments as we went along. I have a lovely mix of dancers with different levels of experience and so I am going to be teaching the Concepts and Context format which works on different levels with the aim of challenging each dancer comfortably within her own ability. I aim to make the dance accessible to beginners (although I don't cover the basics so intensively as fundamentals) and directly deals with musicality, expression and stylisation from the outset.

The Facebook event for the first class of the new term is here. We will be at the YMCA (George Williams House) every Tuesday evening at 7.30 to 8.30. Newcomers are always welcome, as are familiar faces.

I've also had a great start to the year on the other side of the studio as a learner. The Majma Dance Festival in Glastonbury was excellent for me this year, as I had the opportunity to take 5 workshops with one of my absolute favourite performers, Ava Fleming, and also some private tuition with her to really geek out and fine tune some technical stuff. It was am amazing experience and I ended the weekend even more bursting with joy and enthusiasm for dance than usual.

As usual I've been doing some performing and "irregular" teaching. I've been to Cardiff and Exeter for haflas, as well as some commercial performing and a hen-do.

Last week was the solar eclipse, and I headed off up the Tor to meet Laura Daligan for some fire dancing... because, well, it seemed like a smashing plan. We danced to Doum Tekka's drums and got our photo featured in the Central Somerset Gazette.

I'm really looking forward to the next few months. I'll be starting training with Alexis Southall, in her Tribal Fusion Education Programme. I am also taking some teaching intensives with Shona Hagan, which is an amazing opportunity to improve my teaching skills with the help of one of my own favourite Oriental dance teachers. Then there is an intensive with the awesome Ashley Lopez in May.

The new term of my weekly Bridgwater class will of course be beginning, and my Glastonbury Goddess Hall group continues as always, every Monday at 11.30am. I'm also teaching a few workshops over the summer, including visiting groups and a large festival.

There's a few hafla's coming up that I am looking forward to dancing at, and catching up with my favourite local dancers. Doum Tekka and I will be performing together in Binegar in June and Axminster in July. I am also formulating some extra special plans for workshops and an evening event, which I shall tell you about closer to the time.

Watch this space!

Destroying the art

A couple of months ago my attention was drawn to this interview with Sergei Polunin. In it he talks about how it was necessary to destroy, or "delete" everything he had previously worked for, in order to start afresh and remain creative.

Often artists create work that is intended to be destroyed, ice and snow sculptures, drawings in the sand waiting for the tide, installations designed to be taken over by nature and crumble into the earth. While some art is curated by people devoted to its long term preservation, other art is made through its destruction, it's impermanence being a key part of its beauty.

Performance, such as dance, often belongs in the moment. Although it may be immortalised in images or video, people often say that the energy of a dance is lost, and it's never quite as good when viewed on film.

When I perform, I usually try to capture it on video, primarily so that I can reflect upon it later and understand better how to improve for my future performances. Sometimes that doesn't happen, through logistics, forgotten cameras, technical failures or "no film" rules at particular shows.

Often that disappoints me, especially if it was an improvised performance as it really does feel lost forever. An enormous amount of work goes into a 4 minute performance (let alone a longer one) and when that is over, with nothing tangible to show for it, it can feel like an anticlimax.

Sometimes though, there is a sense of "rightness" in that. The performance stays in the moment, in the memories of a few witnesses - and never mine, because I can never recall my experience of a performance, I go into my dance-mind and effectively black out!

It also means that I can move on. I can cast aside that performance and look forward to the next. No judgement, no hangover, and with that comes an enormous rush of creative freedom.

For me bellydance is about transformation. Almost every dancer I have met came to the dance during, or in anticipation of, a period of intense transformation. This is why I created Dancing with the Red Goddess, as a way to acknowledge the personal transformative experience that often comes with the dance.

I also note that within my own dance career I have undergone a series of intense metamorphoses, and these, like all initiatory experiences, necessitate a letting go, or destruction of the previous ways and paths not taken. A system with continuous growth is unsustainable, creativity can only exist when in harmony with destruction. Or, "you can't make an omelette without breaking some eggs".

Hitting the wall

I've been reflecting a recently on the process of building a performance, or more specifically, a point in the process which I like to call "sitting on the floor crying". I've mentioned it before and upon encountering it again recently, I decided to look a little deeper into it.

Now, I'm not saying that literally sitting on the floor and crying is a necessary part of my process, it's more a descriptor of what it feels like than what happens. What I am referring to is the point where at about 60-80% of completion, I hit a wall and just don't know how to continue. I might decide I hate the music and don't want to dance to it at all. I undoubtedly start to doubt my ability. I may even start contemplating giving up and not doing this performance at all, or any more ever! A friend recently described it as when the dance behaves like a toddler who sits down in the middle of the supermarket and refuses to budge.

A couple of years ago I  began to recognise this as an inevitable part of preparing for a performance. More recently I have begun to recognise it as a necessary part of preparing for a great performance.

Creating a new performance is a learning experience. Or it should be. Every new performance should push you, technically, artistically or both. If you aren't pushing your boundaries you aren't learning. If you aren't learning, you aren't growing. If you aren't growing then you are dead in the water. There is only a limited opportunity to keep dancing the same dance before  you or your audience start to tire of it.

If you really challenge yourself, then there will come a point when the learning curve becomes so steep, so intense, that it feels like a wall. A dead end. You can take a step back and trot along at a more comfortable level, or you can push through it. Pushing through it is when the magic happens, but it's never easy.

In my experience, at this point I usually go into extra technical mode. I start thinking in beats and bars and which steps will fill the void that stares back at me unblinkingly every time I try to dance. The result of this is usually a bit bland and clinical, as you might expect.

It was at this point recently when a friend suggested I rewatch this video, so I did. I would recommend that you do too.

It reminded me that I was getting wrapped up in the wrong things, thinking about the performance, the audience, the technique, whether the music was right, the deadline, rather than just... making good art.

So I sat down and I thought about what I could do to put the focus where I wanted it to be, on the message, the story, the emotion of the piece. I wrote a list of things to try, to help me get through the barrier and keep on dancing. Here they are:

Watch dancing. Similar and different performances for inspiration. How have other dancers expressed similar ideas? Don't overanalyse, binge on dance videos for an evening and let it soak in and inspire you.

If you have a tendency to try and pile in all your complicated technique in a tight spot, try reprioritising.

Sit down and dance the music just with your upper body and expression.

Choreograph some really simple steps or footwork first, then put expression and arms on top. No fancy hips or layers. You need your feet in place so you don't fall over, but after that concentrate on arms, face and bearing. Once you've nailed that you might want to put something more complex on top, or you might find it's pretty powerful as it is. Don't always feel you have to fill the silence.

Listen to the music. Properly. Concentrate on what the drums are doing. Listen again and concentrate on what a particular section of the melody does. Slow it down (there's some great apps like Audipo or The Amazing Slow Downer that help with this) and see if there is anything subtle in there that you are missing. Sometimes a subtle drum embellishment  or variation in the bass line will give you something to put your layers to that isn't so obvious or expected.

Get feedback. Ask a dance friend or teacher to appraise the work you have done so far. Or try a community like Bhuz.com and post a video. A good critique will include advice about what is working, as well as what isn't. Sometimes what it really takes to get past a block is reassurance that actually, despite what you think, you are on the right track.

Specialised tuition. Ask your regular teacher, or another teacher whose performances you admire, for a private lesson. They can support you through the process, teach you some new steps or even choreograph a little to give you a leg up.

Sometimes the block is technical. Sometimes the only way to make the performance meet your vision for it is to raise your game technically. So take some time out, go to classes, workshops, dance DVDs, you may already have something in your collection that you could revisit.

Most of all, don't give up. Take a break if you need, but come back to it, and own it like only you can.

Diva skills - Keep your wig on

Continuing with my series about the stage skills we can learn from drag queens.

I like it when you don’t touch my hair.

Wigs are an important part of a drag queen’s arsenal. Although there are a few who style their own hair (not to mention Ongina, who is often bald in drag) wigs are so much a part of the drag queen deal that many even wear more than one at once!

Bellydancers often utilise hairpieces, usually in a more subtle or natural way, to enhance their look or give versatility between looks. On stage you need to be larger than life, and even if you have amazing hair, you may want to give it a bit of a boost. I also always carry an emergency wig in my gig bag, in case I run out of time to style my hair, get caught in the rain or otherwise might struggle to get a satisfactory ‘do for the performance.

I love hairpieces and I have an enormous collection in different colours and textures that reflects the evolution of my stage look. The range of hairpieces available is enormous and can be overwhelming. There’s a lot of great resources out there that provide you with a tonne of detail about different hairpieces, but I’m going to give you a quick rundown from a bellydancer’s perspective.

Real or synthetic.

In theory real human hair is the ultimate in terms of quality and look.

Human hair wigs can be washed, dyed or styled just like your own hair. Human hair falls or clip in extensions will blend well with your hair in terms of texture. As a performer though, you aren’t looking for up close, daytime realness.

On the downside this is a very expensive option. You aren’t going to save time with these, in fact you’ve got a whole extra bunch of hair to style and keep in good condition. If you have especially fine, or curly hair, you might find it hard to get a good match for partial hairpieces, most human hair for wigs is straight, thick and initially dark. Fine, lighter hair is even more expensive. There are also ethical issues with cheaper human hair.

There are different classes of synthetic hair. Traditional synthetic wigs tangle easily, don’t retain a style well and generally look like fancy dress accessories.

Can I just take a moment here to tell you, though it should not need saying: Never wear a fancy dress wig on stage. They are thin, poorly styled and generally awful.

“GO BACK TO PARTY CITY WHERE YOU BELONG” - Phi Phi O Hara.

No. Just no.

Japanese wig makers have more recently been using some excellent synthetics. The original is a fibre called Kankelon. It is soft and silky. The style is baked in, so even if you wash it, you just have to let it drip dry then run your fingers through it. You can stuff it in the bottom of your gig bag, shake it out and it’s ready to go. It’s as natural as you need for stage. There are also other fibres coming onto the market off the back of Kankelon's success, which really raise the bar in synthetic wigs.

Another benefit of synthetic fibre is that you can get it in any colour, or length you fancy. Down to your knees and bright blue if that’s your thing!

Which hairpiece is for you?

Depending on your natural hair and your needs you have a variety of choices:

Clip in extensions

These are wefts of hair with clips sewn on. If you want to add extra volume or a little extra length to your natural hair, this is a great option.

Apply them by parting your hair horizontally and clipping them in close to the scalp. Start at the nape and work up. A spritz of hairspray before you clip them in will stop them slipping.

You’ll need to match the colour and texture closely. It is possible to get a good finish with shorter hair and clips, but if you are not a whizz with hairpieces I would recommend that you either have natural hair past your shoulders, or only opt for a couple of inches extra length.

Falls

Falls are hairpieces that encompass only the “free” part of a ponytail. Some clip in with a crocodile clip, some have a drawstring that fits around a bun made of your own hair. Falls are also available as dreadlocks, which are popular among tribal style dancers for a temporary dreaded look.

You will need to style the rest of your hair as usual, then make sure you have a firm base to fix your fall onto. The colour match needs to be good, although you can get away with a texture difference. Hide the seam with flowers or hair decorations for ponytail realness.

This fall clips into a chignon or bun 

½ or ¾ wigs

Partial wigs are an excellent introduction to wig wearing as you don’t need to worry so much about your hairline.

These hairpieces fit onto the back part of your head, but the front inch or few of the style is formed from your own hair. You can sweep your hair back over the seam to cover it, or use a hairband. Usually you will use a wig that matches your hair colour, but it is also possible to use a broad hairband which comes right onto your brow, with no visible hairline to cover your hair for a completely different colour.

These wigs are easiest to style, but they are still quite heavy and hot to dance in.

In this image I am wearing a 3/4 wig, the hair in front of the band is my own.

Full wigs

If you are going for a full cap wig, your biggest challenge is going to be the hairline. I would recommend a lace front wig, unless your wig has a fringe/bangs, as the artificial hairline will give you away.

Lace front wigs come with a section of mesh at the hairline which firstly needs to be cut to a width you feel you can work with. The lace is fixed to the forehead with wig/toupee/body tape and you’ll need to use make up to blend it.

It’s a bit of a fuss to get right, and hot to dance in, but this is your best bet for a totally different look, or to avoid having to use your own hair at all.

Choosing your style

Traditional convention says that bellydancers have long, loose hair. This is still the case for some traditional styles such as khaleegi, but fashions in bellydance include updos and short hair too. Unless you are aiming for an authentic, culturally representative look, your choice is up to your personal aesthetic.

Drag queens wear enormous (and multiple wigs) to, as Courteney Act puts it “disguise their big man faces”.

The proportions of your hair need to be taken into account in balancing your face and your body. As Courteney explains, heavy, masculine features are balanced by voluminous hair-dos. Like any hairstyle, make sure that your wig compliments your features, play with sweeping back, trailing tendrils etc. Think about where the strands lie in terms of your cheek or jaw bone, see what works for you.

If you want to give an impression of height, you can add height to your hair in terms of high ponytails, tiaras, pomps, rolls or beehive style bumps.

You can balance a juicier figure with volume in the hair, though be wary that very long, very voluminous hair will swamp you, especially if you ar not tall, so keep it above the bra strap or even shoulders. Width up top will balance broader shoulders and emphasise the narrowing of your waist.

Long, straight hair elongates the body, especially with a little height on top.

Practical wig wearing

Make sure your hairpieces are secure. Use plenty of hairspray with clips, use more hairpins than you think you need. Beauty suppliers also sell wig hairpins, which are larger, to help secure wigs.

Secure your hair underneath, I usually pincurl under a wig for an even finish that the wig can be pinned to. Pin through the wig into your hair, all around the edges and through the centre of the cap.

Like any part of your costume, always stress test your hairpieces. If you are partial to hair tossing, make sure that you give your head a good shake, then check in the mirror before you hit the stage (and with enough time to set it right if it shifts!)

As Mama Ru says, it’s only acceptable to take your wig off on stage, if you have another on underneath.

Postcards from the coal face. Reflections on my dance practice.

I've been reflecting upon and tweaking my daily dance practice quite a lot lately. Over the last few months I have been working on refining my practice to get the best value out of my time and cultivate a schedule that allows me to maintain fitness, progress technically and prepare for performance in a way that works for my body and other commitments.

So after trying out a few variations of my own, I decided to start a clean slate in January with a little hand holding from Datura Online.  I know that when I choose my own practice, I'll choose the things I like and find easy. I started their Crazy Train programme, which is around 2 hours a day of conditioning, drills and technique, all set out, for 4 weeks of comprehensive practice. I completed the month on this, and then on reflection, decided what I would take away into my own tailored training. This is what I discovered:

Prioritising is more effective than you might think

At first I thought that finding 2 hours a day for basic dance practice (not including classes and performance preparation) was going to be impossible, but everything is impossible until you give it a go. The very first video on Crazy Train is this from Amy Sigil. She is totally right. You have to prioritise the important things. Dance is my passion and my trade, I can't afford to down-prioritise it. So I dance first, and do the other things later. When you work regular office hours, outside the home, your work comes first. You go to work, you do the work. If there is laundry left to hang up, but it's time to go to work, you don't do the laundry, you go to work. Equally you don't check your emails one last time, or anything else. I have learned to be this brutal about my dance schedule too, because if I let it slip, it's gone.

Reporting back helps

A few months back a dance co-conspirator of mine suggested a challenge, where our group of disparate dancers would attempt to complete at least 10 minutes dance every day. As I've said before, 10 minutes should be easy to achieve and is better than nothing. I was already in a daily habit of weight training, yoga, shimmy drills and core technique drills - on top of class preparation, choreography etc, so I figured it would be no problem.

This was a great challenge, firstly because I learned that actually, I was sometimes skipping out of my basic practice (especially if I was teaching or taking a class that day). I also noticed that "reporting in" to my peers was a motivator. Sharing your accomplishments, even if it is just 20 minutes of shimmy drills, is satisfying and hearing about their exploits was motivating. So I bought a notebook to dedicate as a dance diary. Writing in the diary is really just reporting in to myself, but the process of entering my practice encourages me to have more to write about! It also helps me keep track and check the patterns and roundedness of my schedule.

Dance vegetables are important

In her Flow Drills workshop, Zoe Jakes talks about the importance of "eating your dance vegetables". Foundation drills, strength conditioning, flexibility and cardio are the cornerstones of dance. Zoe talks about the necessity of practicing these on a daily basis, only then can you get down to "playing" trying out new layers and combos, choreography, all that stuff.

I believed her the first time I saw it, but after several weeks of religious vegetable dancing, the fundamental importance of a dedicated regular, grass roots practice has become extremely apparent to me. I've written before about the importance of returning to "beginner" technique, but it's actually about maintaining and improving it. Day by day.

Actual vegetables are also important

I've always had an interest in nutrition, and I know that how I eat reflects in how I feel and how I dance. Dancers are in an odd place of being both artists and athletes. It's tempting to think that we should be able to exist on tea and hob nobs, in a feverish artistic reclusion, but our art is enacted through our bodies. Our bodies are the instrument of our expression and we have to take care of them. Our bodies also often represent the limits of our expression. A stronger, healthier body means more access to more movements and a more versatile toolkit through which to express ourselves.

I've come across many variations in diet amongst bellydancers, some swear by their particular variant, supplement or lifestyle. Our ideal diets are all very individual, based on our baseline needs, budget, ethical choices, tastes and training levels, so I'm not going to make any suggestions here. However I have observed that being aware of (and increasing) the levels of water and protein in my diet has coincided with better stamina and less muscle fatigue or post-exercise weakness.

It's not just about maintenance

Working on the same drills, every single day doesn't just preserve the skill, it gradually refines it. You might not see the difference immediately, but give it a month and the contrast is stark. Getting better at a particular drill means that certain elements become automatic, and when you don't have to think about those anymore, you can focus on refining something new.

There is benefit in boredom

Following on from my previous point, sometimes doing the same drills over on a daily, or even weekly, basis can seem tedious. I considered for a while whether I could do something else while I was drilling. Then I realised that concentrating on the drill itself is really important. When I no longer have to apply my brain power to making the move happen, I have the capacity to analyse and refine it. There is always a reason to focus my attention.

It's not just drills that bear repeating.

I have an enormous collection of bellydance DVDs and downloads, not to mention the streamable Datura library. Everything from conditioning to drills, flow practice to technical breakdown. I tend to use them on a fairly broad rotation. The flow and drills gets used more.

The Crazy Train programme actually repeats videos that I would not have considered repeating at such a tight frequency. Combinations and technique that I might previously have thought once, or very occasionally, was enough. Making myself repeat them I realised that there is a lot of depth you can miss while learning a combination, and going over the technique, from scratch, for a second or third time really allows me to get to the guts of it.

Teaching is not practice

There was a time when I considered my teaching time to equate to drilling time. After all, I am breaking down the technique, practicing it over and over. The problem is that while I am conscious of maintaining good technique, I am also watching my students, analysing their movements, making judgements about what to correct, what to encourage and what to let lie. While I may have revelations about the mechanics of a movement while I teach it, I can't really get into the meat of my own technique while my purpose is to support that of my students. In addition I can't really push myself when I am tailoring the level to beginner or improver level dancers. I have to respect the limits of their stamina, range of movement etc, and that means not challenging my own.

Variety is the spice of success

I've talked before about cross training, but I've also noticed how different types of cross training benefit each other. For instance I regularly use Jillian Michaels' Shred workouts for conditioning, although I have to make some modifications recommended by Shredheads, to respect my joints. I'm not a massive fan of working out, so the high intensity Shred workouts are the exercise equivalent of ripping off a band aid. I don't do Shred daily however. I mix it up with pilates, yoga and dance flow conditioning.

Early on, I found that my ability to keep up with the Shred workout was limited by muscle fatigue. Even on the cardio focussed workouts I wasn't nearing my cardio limit before my legs started to tire. After mixing it up with some pilates for a couple of weeks however, increasing my strength, I found that I had the ability to push harder and reach that sweaty out-of-breath sweet spot when I got back to my cardio circuits.

I also used to have a real problem with burpees. They were (and probably still are) my nemesis. On the other side of things I have been working on tolasana. I started back in October when I couldn't lift my weight off the floor at all. I've found that the core strength from my tolasana practice gives me the extra oomph I need to get my feet back to my hands from plank when I am doing burpees. I'm still not great at them, but I can actually get through a set now.

A committed practice habit has inertia

It surprised me how quickly this set in. I would suppose it took me less than a week of devoting 2 hours a day to basic practice and learning (not teaching, not choreography or rehearsal) to set in my mind that this was what I did now. Usually I do an hour of conditioning in the late morning or early afternoon, then the rest in 20-30 minute slots later in the day. I don't argue with myself about it. It has to be done.

Then I went away for a couple of days and had to break my schedule. I was so grouchy and twitchy not getting my dance fix. It was hard to get back to as well. So I have had to work out ways to maintain some semblance of routine even when my schedule is disrupted.

Missing  practice

Missing out a day's practice is really easy when other things get in the way, and one missed day easily turns into 2 or 3. I try to schedule my down days, usually to coincide with times when I know I am going to be busy or tired. I also try to replace my dance practice with something else, like restorative yoga, to maintain the "slot" in my day.

Busy people are happy people

My father always used to say that if you want something done, you should give it to a busy person. Getting down to practice straightaway. Making the decision not to sit down for that cup of tea after the kids are in bed, but to get straight down to dance-business. I don't let up until I get all my "to dos" ticked. It's busy, but it's productive.

Changes are incremental and not always predictable

I can't see from day to day, or even week to week, the improvements that a dedicated practice creates. It's not the instant gratification of an intensive for instance. I have also found that changes I expected haven't manifested as fast as I might predict, while others have been clear and surprising.

Keeping track of progress by filming samples of drills or combinations and comparing them, a few weeks apart makes it easier to see the changes, and gain the motivation to keep going.

Diva skills, Don't be shady, be a lady!

Continuing with my series about making yourself a better dancer and performer through the example of drag queens.

Today we are looking at shade.

It is well understood that drag queens can be mean and catty, sometimes this is intentionally mean, sometimes it is friendly banter, often it is somewhere inbetween. In fact "reading", the art of wittily and incisively pointing out someone's flaws as seen in Paris is Burning, is pretty much a sport in itself (that link has NSFW language). Being read is the natural companion to the important performer/artist skill, of not taking yourself too seriously; it's interesting to watch the reading challenge on Drag Race, and note the queens who really get in on the joke - they are often the better entertainers. A good read makes everyone laugh, even the subject, but when an insult it blunt, vicious and not intended lightly, it becomes "shade". The title of this post comes from Stacey Lane Matthews, who in season 3 of RuPaul's Drag race made a point of rising above the shade-throwing antics of her peers, and it is this that I would like to focus on.

So what has shade got to do with bellydance?

Quite a lot actually. We are part of a diverse but tight knit community of passionate artists, so sometimes people disagree. Bellydancers are all kinds of people, different ages, different music tastes, different aesthetics and different dance styles, so it is human nature that "tribes" and cliques will form.

The dance circles I move in are generally very pleasant and supportive. We recognise our shared love of the dance and celebrate our differences. I do occasionally encounter a shady dancer, or find myself witnessing a fevered debate between dancers whose ethos or opinions clash. I also know dancers who have been involved in more unpleasant rivalries within the community and it gives pause for thought.

Shade is not good for the community.

It appears that a lot of shade comes out of a perceived competition between dancers. Insecurity or a need to "get ahead" sometimes leads to dancers putting each other down. The truth however is that there is not a limited amount of talent to go around. You are not going to get better by dragging others down, and if you could, would that be a sweet victory? Only you can dance your dance. Bring others up with you, don't trample them, raising the quality of dance performances in general is good for all of us. If you really wish to get ahead, save the energy and use it productively to become a better dancer instead.

When dancers consider themselves rivals, it divides the community. Teachers who support each others events, haflas and workshops aren't sending their students away, they are igniting and rekindling their enthusiasm for the dance by offering them increased opportunities. If we trust our students to recognise the value of our classes, and endeavour to deliver good teaching whilst working on our own dance and knowledge, they will come back. If they don't enjoy our classes, then they won't keep coming, whether there is another teacher to go to or not. If we introduce them to a teacher who suits them better however, we keep them in the community. Maybe they will come back for our workshops and events. Maybe they will come back to class if, in future, their interest shifts more towards our speciality. By helping our students to find their niche, even if that is with another teacher, we nourish our students, we strengthen our community and we earn their trust.

Shade is not professional

It should be go without saying that public, uncivil arguments, spreading gossip rumours or insulting individuals is ungraceful and ugly. I don't want to take classes with a teacher who is unpleasant, whether that be in person, or passive aggressively on social media, to me or anyone else. Dance takes up a huge amount of my time, I'm going to spend it with people who are positive and enthusiastic. Professionalism is not just for people who make their living through dance either. Being pleasant, tolerant and tactful opens doors and is a great way for every dancer to help make everyone's dance experience better.

Is shade ever OK?

So is it ever ok to throw shade as a dancer? Or are there better alternatives? Sometimes it's not entirely appropriate or healthy to be all sweetness and light, is shade sometimes appropriate?

Counters and defence

Sometimes people behave in a way that damages our community, like undercutting, behaving unprofessionally (tarring the reputation of other performers by association) or presenting poor quality or sleazy performances in a professional setting. Many of us work very hard to ensure our dance is perceived as the skilled and serious artform that it is, and it can be immensely frustrating to see people damaging our reputation and livelihood, either willfully or through ignorance.

Another instance you might consider is when an individual is throwing a lot of shade themselves. Should you counter it? Or find another way?

The truth of it is, that if you start badmouthing (or badtyping) other people, you are not going to come out of it well. You can't sling mud without getting your hands dirty.  When people hear you say bad things about other people, the bad feeling that comes from that ends up being associated with you, not your subject, no matter how much they might deserve it. So first and foremost, consider your audience. It's probably OK to whine about the dancer who behaved badly at your local restaurant leaving the organiser sworn off bellydancers forever.... in private, in your own circles, to others who share your disappointment. It's not OK to post about it all over your professional Facebook page. If you have to vent, do it to someone you trust, who knows you well.

It might be appropriate to tactfully approach the individual and explain the issue to them. Most good teachers and mentors school their students in professionalism and etiquette, some slip through the net. Be gentle and supportive and you might be helping them on the path of being a great member of the community.

Some individuals know better, but refuse to do better. You can't change their mind, but going around warning people off them isn't going to help you either. What you can do is demonstrate your own values, professionalism and skill. People aren't daft, they'll realise for themselves.

When is shade not shade? When it's T.

There's a phrase that you will hear amongst drag queens: No T no shade. It's like the drag equivalent of "no offence but...." T stands for truth, and sometimes we need a good tactful dose of truth for our own good. There is a fine line however between being honest and being rude.

I have a few close dance-friends who I trust to "serve T" in a supportive and enriching manner. They get to be brutally honest because I can trust them not to break me in the process. We all need people like this, at the very least someone who will tell you if you are about to make an almighty fool of yourself or drag you off stage if your skirt is tucked into your knickers.

But this sort of truth shouldn't come unsolicited. Don't critique a performance unless you are asked for your opinion, that's rude and potentially damaging. Similarly it is better to walk away than give a half hearted or backhanded compliment. One of my favourite instances of shade was Aretha Franklin's clipped response to a question about Taylor Swift "Great gowns. Beautiful gowns."  Technically a compliment, but with scandalously shady intent. Make sure that your feedback is heartfelt and clear.

So this brings us full circle. While bantering or giving honest feedback with your closest dance buddies is great, there is really no situation in dance when putting down another person is the optimal route to take.

Don't be shady, be a lady!

Finding the balance in bellydance performance.

Being a performing bellydancer means fulfilling a complex set of requirements. As performers we are entertainers, our job is to use our skills to bring joy to the audience, to make their event better, or their evening more memorable.

However there is a whole lot more to it than that. We are also artists, we tell our stories, express our interpretations of the world, sometimes we even challenge our audiences and hope they come away with a new perspective.

Then, as skilled practitioners of Raqs Sharqui, we are custodians of an art that, for most of us, comes from a culture different to our own. We become implied ambassadors for Middle Eastern art, culture and music, and the impression our audiences take away from our performance, will undoubtedly influence their overall impression of our artform and its origins. Through this we have a unique opportunity to educate our audiences, and eradicate (or inadvertently perpetuate) harmful stereotypes.

Artist, entertainer or educator?

To an extent individual performers choose where they lie on this spectrum. Some dancers are avid students of Middle Eastern culture, the visit regularly, study with local teachers, they learn the language, they learn to play Arabic instruments, when they dance, they dance as much like a dancer from their style's country of origin as they can, in the most authentic costumes.

Some dancers are aiming for Tarab, that perfect sychronicity of movement, music and emotion. Some are more focussed on being authentic to themselves, telling their own stories. Sometimes this means deviating from cultural authenticity, perhaps fusing Middle Eastern dance with Western danceforms. Sometimes this means pushing the boundaries and challenging audiences in a way that provokes thought and invites criticism.

Entertainment is our last dancer "class". Whether the dancer gets her greatest satisfaction from bringing the party, or because she finds this to be the best way to ensure  a solid income as a professional performer. Being an entertainer means knowing your audience and tailoring your sets to excite and impress them.

Finding the balance by knowing your audience.

Of course in reality no one fits neatly in any of these categories, and the savvy performer will learn how to adjust their sets to fit an appropriate balance for each occasion.

I came to this as a stark realisation when performing at a public event. It was one of the first I had done as a solo professional, after previously preparing performances under the guidance of my teacher. Feeling full of the awesomeness of Raqs, I opened with a bit of Classic Orientale piece, to an instrumental version of an Oum Kalthoum song.

I didn't get far into the performance before I realised my mistake. In this public setting with the audience essentially being passers by, a more subtle performance was unlikely to grab their attention.

A promenade performance needs to be eye catching, your audience is not likely to stop and watch for the full set, so I needed to prioritise being dynamic and conveying a simple message, over  indulging my artistic side. Cultural integrity is great in this setting, it would be a missed opportunity to reach out to an audience who wouldn't normally be exposed to Arabic dance, but I had to get their attention first.

Now, for contrast, sometimes I go into schools to teach and perform. In this setting I have a captive audience, I don't need to work so hard to encourage them to engage with my performance, though I do need to hold their attention. My function in this setting is to provide a cultural education, so I am likely to be performing at my most culturally authentic, probably in a folkloric style. There is a little room for personal flair, it wouldn't be a performance without it, but it is my responsibility to make sure that my audience comes away with an accurate idea of what Middle Eastern dance is all about.

As a final example I am going to take a performance at a niche, dance event, such as Gothla. The audience will be dancers, in the vast majority, who will generally have a good education in the dance and it's origins. They have seen  a lot of performances, authentic, and less so, and this is the ideal forum for individuality and innovation
I know that no one in the audience is going to go home thinking that my performance is an accurate reflection of Egyptian culture, and this is the appropriate forum to dance the material that might be misunderstood in a more conventional setting. However when I dance in a fusion style, I always do so with mindfulness of the foundation, and respect for the danceforms that I am working with, so a touch of the education/culture portion remains.

Every performance will have different requirements, and every dancer will make their own judgements about how they will play their balance for that situation, while others will specifically pick their performances to fit their personal preferences. I'm happy to dance with fire fans to Western music at festival, others market themselves solely to more traditional/culturally authentic settings. Some restaurant dancers aim to give an accurate Cairo nightclub experience, while others invest more energy into interacting with the audience and raising a party atmosphere on more Westernised terms.

Bellydance is a complex and varied artform, with niches for all kinds of performers and all kinds of audience. I love this diversity of opportunities and expression.