opinion – Sophia Ravenna

Not Tribal Fest

May 24, 2016May 21, 2016Sophia Ravenna

This post may contain an excess of feels, so here's a pretty picture of the ocean to make up for it. — This post may contain an excess of feels, so here’s a pretty picture of the ocean to make up for it.

It’s been really weird being on Facebook this week, as FB keeps offering me “memories” of my photos from the last 3 Tribal Fests. Add this to my friends sharing their TF memory photos and their thoughts about not being there this year, and I find that I have my own thoughts about not being there.

Is it bad to say that in a way I’m GLAD Tribal Fest is gone? That the more I learn about what went on behind the scenes, the more I realize it was rotten to the core? That the more I see costumers closing up shop because of lost TF profits, the more I realize that as a community, we hung too much of our sense of self-worth on getting a spot on the TF stage and looking our best?

On a personal level, I’m glad there was no Tribal Fest this May, because I always sunk a ton of time and money into that event, and that’s time and money that has been better spent on preparing to move this year. I’m glad I haven’t been stressing about a Tribal Fest solo on top of my Cultivation retest. I’m glad that I’ve been focusing on improving some of my dance skills that were lacking, instead of one single performance piece.

And I’ve enjoyed finally exploring the SF Bay Area. Every year that I came here for TF, I’d think “Wow, I really wish I had time to actually go to San Francisco” or “Gee, I sure would love to visit these cute stores in Sebastopol but I spent all my money at the festival.” Now I’m getting the chance to see different parts of the area, do some shopping and some eating and actually get out into nature, too. (Note: I actually wrote this post on Saturday before my trip was over, come back next Tues for a recap on where I visited, what I did, and why it was awesome)

Of course there are things I miss about Tribal Fest. It was a place to see a lot of people, to experience new teachers, to try on and buy costumes, and to see a lot of inspiring performances. It wasn’t the only place to do that, of course, but it was a big one.

Mainly, I wish TF had gone away in a less traumatic way. I wish it had happened in a way that wouldn’t have been so hurtful to the people involved, and so damaging to peoples’ livelihoods. I wish it had gone out with dignity, with one final hurrah so we all know it was coming. I wish we could have said good bye. I wish it had felt more like a peaceful death after a long and healthy life, and not like a gory murder/suicide.

One more thing: I am kind of tired of hearing people say “Something new will take its place!” as if you can make a gigantic festival over night. Honestly, I don’t think there will ever be another Tribal Fest — and I think that’s OK. I think that instead of a new festival becoming the hot new thing, or one of the current mid-sized festivals taking over, I think that all of the mid-sized festivals will grow a bit as people focus their attention away from going to Sebastopol to the exclusion of all else, and towards supporting the mid-sized event nearest their home. And I think that’s better. It means people who could never go to TF (either due to money, or due to its proximity towards the end of the school year) will no longer feel like they’re just entirely missing out. It means people might travel more to communities they’ve never visited and make new connections. And it hopefully means we won’t put any one event on such a high pedestal that we ignore the bad behavior behind it.

Additionally, saying “Something new will take its place!” doesn’t help the people who are hurting monetarily right now. Even if, say, Tribal Rev or Tribal Con or Cues and Tattoos grows to become the new big event, it really is going to take a few years, as people travel around to different events and decide which one they like best before coming to the consensus that Elevation or Jamballah is the New Tribal Fest. So stop expecting your favorite vendors to just sit tight and wait for The New Tribal Fest to come along. They need to take care of themselves, and if that means closing up shop and getting a day job, well, you just better take care of the pieces you have from them and appreciate the chance that you got something before it was too late.

So that’s my thoughts on it. I think a lot of us are going to continue to have a lot of emotions to process about this whole thing for the next few years, but I think in the end, the community will be stronger for it.

What’s up with all this makeup?

May 6, 2016May 5, 2016Sophia Ravenna

opinion

We interrupt your regularly scheduled makeup review for this special report!

No seriously. I was going to review my new microfiber hair towel today. That’s what my content calendar calls for. But I have AN OPINION and it cannot be held in check. Opinions are more interesting than towels any day, right?

The question of the day is “What’s up with all this makeup?” It feels like not a day goes by that I don’t see a new launch of some sort in my Twitter feed or inbox, or on Temptalia’s blog. Then on Tuesday it really hit home when Urban Decay announced they were reformulating their lipstick (the current formula only dates back to like, 2013 or so) and relaunching… with 100 core shades, 20 Sephora exclusive shades, and 50 lip liners.

120 lipsticks at $17 each and 50 liners are $20 each. If you wanted to buy them all, and you didn’t happen to have a convenient coupon, that would set you back $3040 plus tax. Now, I’m sure they don’t expect most people to buy the whole damn line, but that hasn’t stopped them from sending out fancy display cases to prominent social media stars. I haven’t counted to see if they got all the shades or just the core 100 colors, but that’s at least $1700 worth of lipstick. Lest you think I’m just jealous because I’ll never be cool enough to get free makeup, believe me, I’m not. I’m in the middle of moving and there’s no way I want to drag 100 freakin’ lipsticks with me and try to find room for them in a tiny apartment, thanks anyway!

My problem isn’t specifically with the UD launch, but what it represents. I think we’re seeing a cosmetics bubble you guys. From constant launches and reformulations and special limited edition collections from the big companies, to blogs and YouTubers breathlessly gushing about the latest Insta-famous indie brands, we are drowning in cosmetics. We brag about our “hauls”, we buy the same color of lipstick in five different formulations and we all have at least ten different black eye liners. Why? Do we really need all this?

All of these products are surrounded by so much hype, thanks to Instagram and YouTube. Much of the hype is driven by supplying free products, or collaborating with popular makeup artists and style gurus for a line, or having these “beauty gurus” visit the company at their design labs, makeup show booths, or stores. While I don’t blame companies for taking advantage of the possibilities of viral marketing (after all, marketing is my day job!) it’s starting to feel a little over-done.

Already I can see people starting to lose their trust in beauty companies and the gurus who promote them. There are valid complaints about both sides. I see these issues cropping up over and over again:

First, people feel like the big companies are trying too hard. Too many launches, often of similar products (even the YT beauty vloggers who get them for free are starting to complain about neutral palettes!), too much blatant courting of social media stars, too many products that don’t live up to claims despite a high price tag.
Then when they decide to give the little guy a try and check out that hot indie company everyone’s suddenly talking about, they discover new problems. The scandals surrounding indie cosmetics range from stolen credit cards and drained PayPal accounts to shoddy packaging to weeks-long shipping delays to incomplete or missing orders to indie nail polish that caused serious damage to peoples’ nail beds. Any and all of these can be paired with poor customer service that clearly DNGAF unless you’ve got 10k Instagram followers. Taking a chance with an indie company can have bad results that range from wasting a few dollars on a substandard project to physical injury and stolen funds, which of course makes people wary of ever trying another indie brand, even though some are quite nice.
After being burned a few times by indie upstarts and failed launches from the big brands, you might feel tempted to sit back and wait for the reviews from now on. So before buying the hot new palette that everyone’s abuzz about, you watch a video by your favorite YouTube guru. She swatches the colors on her arm and they look great! She says they’re so soft, buttery, and highly pigmented. Sure she only swatched 3 colors, but they all looked great, so you buy it. When you get it, you find that those three colors are great, but there’s 4 or 5 colors that are just powdery and patchy. Well, maybe you’re not using them right. You go back to YouTube and watch another MUA channel. She swatches the same few really popular colors and says they’re so soft, buttery, and highly pigmented. Wait, this sounds familiar… It’s almost like they all received a promotional package that touted the brands new soft, buttery, and highly pigmented eye shadow formula.
Well, you’ve still got the palette so you might as well enjoy it. You see a tutorial for an eye look based on the palette, and you figure that will maybe help you learn how to work with some of the more difficult colors. But you find the tutorial difficult to follow because the person doing it has very different skin tone and eye color from you and makes no suggestions for how to adjust it. You do some digging and realize that despite presenting herself as a makeup expert, she is entirely self-taught* and actually has lots of videos full of terrible advice.

With all of this happening, it’s no wonder that some of the more cynical members of the community are starting to get a little burnt out. When you sit down and realize how much you’ve spent on makeup in the past year, and how much of it turned out to be not that great, and how much of it is fine but not your favorite so you rarely use it, you can start to feel a little silly. It spirals out of control so easily, because going to Sephora and buying a couple little things is a great pick-me-up on a bad day, especially since you can put that new lipstick right on in the store and feel cute and happy. But all those little purchases build up, and suddenly you see the appeal of the anti-haul, the purge, the no-spend, the “use up 7 products before July”.

I think much like the current backlash against the wasteful nature of fast fashion, we’re going to start to see a lot of resistance towards the constant new cosmetics launches and must-have products. I think there’s going to be more of a trend towards buying beauty products that are a real staple — a good classic red lipstick, for instance — instead of a rush to have one of every color of everything, and every limited edition palette that comes in a cute package. I’m curious if multi-taskers will become more popular too (such as products that can tint lips and cheeks), or if we’ll retain a preference for products that are really great at one thing instead of OK at two things.

Either way, I just don’t see this current growth as sustainable. Yes, millennials like to spend a lot on makeup, but they’re also facing a tough job market and high student loans and constantly rising housing costs in the most popular cities. How long are they going to keep dropping their paychecks on liquid matte lipsticks and highlighter palettes, instead of paying down their debt and investing in their future?

So there’s my thoughts. You’ll see my disillusionment with the current frantic release pace of the cosmetics industry reflected in less purchasing and less product reviews. Don’t worry! Beauty Blogging for Belly Dancers will still be posted on every Friday, but some of the reviews will be replaced by tips & tricks or opinion posts or brand overviews.

*Not that there’s anything wrong with being self-taught. I’m not a professional makeup artist, after all. I just think it’s important to be clear about who you are and what you know, and if you’re not a trained professional, maybe don’t go around giving people advice like telling them to make DIY face masks out of products that are terrible for your skin.

Support Your Dance Community

April 12, 2016Sophia Ravenna

Can you find me in the audience? (Photo by Aaliyah Jenny)

Let’s take a few minutes to discuss the importance of supporting your dance community. This is a thought on my mind a lot lately, both in considering some of the issues that were brought up in response to my post “Thoughts About Shows” and in watching the changing face of the dance community as the economic realities cause a lot of dancers and costumers to close up shop, or at least be less active than they used to be.

If we want this community to survive and thrive, we need to support each other, and our support has to take the form of more than just encouraging words. We have to put our money where our mouths are! It’s time to remember that belly dance isn’t just about getting the opportunity to put on something sparkly and be in the spotlight. It’s about being part of a community, both locally and globally. If you claim to love belly dance, your actions should match your words.

It’s a regular complaint that there are some dancers that you never see in the audience of a show, only on stage. If you really love this dance, shouldn’t you love watching it? And don’t try to tell me that you watch YouTube and performance DVDs at home. That’s fine, but it’s no substitute for live dance, and if you have the opportunity to go support a dance show, you should. Whether you go out for dinner at a restaurant that has dancers, or attend a student showcase to cheer on the newbies, or buy tickets for a gala show, you should be seeking out opportunities to support your fellow dancers and soak up some inspiration.

I don’t want to hear any excuses about how you can’t afford it, either, not when you can have a $15 dinner or buy a $20 show ticket. We’re not talking about trying to get Adele concert tickets from a scalper, people. If your budget is so tight that you can never afford to buy a show ticket, you should take a long hard look at your finances. And if you really can’t afford tickets, there are often volunteer opportunities where you can help with the show and get to watch from the sidelines, which is better than nothing.

Now, some of us live in communities with an overabundance of free shows, and that’s great. I’m not going to say you have to spend every weekend going to haflas as an audience member… But if there are that many shows, surely you can sit a few out as a participant and be there as an observer instead? Also, don’t use the plethora of free shows as an excuse to skip out on the more expensive shows. If an organizer has gone to the expense of bringing in an impressive out-of-town dancer and renting out an actual theater, you should spring for a ticket and have a nice night out.

While we’re thinking about free shows, when these events are held in restaurants, coffee shops, or bars, don’t just sit there and watch without buying anything. Order food and drink. Tip generously if appropriate. Be polite and friendly to the staff. This goes for audience members and performers. If you’re there to dance, you should at least order a little something, or if you’re a nervous performer and literally can’t stomach anything, encourage those who came to see you to eat up and have a drink on your behalf.

Shifting gears, let’s talk about the importance of supporting our belly dance vendors! It seems like when things get tight, costume spending is one of the first things to get cut from the budget, and it makes sense. Costumes aren’t cheap, and especially for us tribal and fusion dancers, it’s easy enough to mix and match things to keep our wardrobe looking fresh for a few more months. But I’m going to encourage you to try to always keep a little money in the budget for vendors, especially when attending a festival.

Vendors are an important part of our belly dance community. Not only do they provide us with everything we need to look fabulous on stage, they’re also an important part of our economy. Event organizers rely in part on vendor fees to pay the costs of putting on an event. I can tell you from my own personal experience vending in the past that if I don’t do well at an event as a vendor, I’m not going to want to apply again to vend the next year. If I LOSE money by being there, why would I want to do that again when I could just go as an attendee?

It is nice to order from your favorite vendors online, and I do recommend that you do that as well, but shopping in person gives you the chance to actually try things on, feel fabrics, see how things look together (sometimes a vendor will even let you try something on in their booth and then walk over to another vendor while wearing it to try it on with something you were eyeballing over there!), and build a connection with someone. If you’re looking to custom order, or have alterations made, it really helps to actually work with the vendor on your measurements to make sure everything’s done right. Plus, by shopping in person you’re showing them that it’s an event worth being at, so hopefully they’ll come back and you’ll see them again next year.

The next time you’re thinking of ordering yourself some cheap Made-in-China costuming off eBay, ask yourself if that’s really the move that supports the dance community. The same for when you decide to stay home from a show and just hope to catch clips of it on YouTube next month. If you don’t support your community today, you may find that there’s nothing left to support tomorrow.

Thoughts About Shows

March 22, 2016Sophia Ravenna

Obviously I love performing, but... — Obviously I love performing, but…

I think a lot about what being a professional fusion belly dancer really means. What is the point of professional-level training, costuming, and behavior, if there’s only a handful of paying jobs? Is professional just a label we throw around to make ourselves feel better about our hobby? This isn’t to say that there aren’t dancers out there earning most if not all of their income from dance, but it seems like oftentimes the money comes more from teaching than from performing. This is especially true if you are a tribal or fusion dancer in a community where most if not all of the restaurant, hookah lounge, night club and private party gigs go to the dancers performing more Middle Eastern-derived styles.

Last week I shared some of my thoughts on Facebook, about how the dance community could work to make some of our own shows actually pay our dancers. It caused a lot of thought-provoking conversation, so I decided to expand it into a blog post so more of the community has a chance to read it, form their own opinions, and share their thoughts.

What it boils down to is that as a dancer, I am happy to perform for free at community-minded events which are either free to attend or charge a small cover to either pay for the space or raise money for a worthy cause. I am less happy to perform for free in a theater, for an audience that paid upwards of $30 for a ticket. And as an audience member, I also don’t appreciate paying up to $30 for a ticket, to see a stage show full of student-level dancers. As an audience member, I also don’t appreciate constantly seeing the same dancers over and over again at every show I attend.

What I would like to see more of (and what some communities are already doing successfully) is shows with a smaller number of dancers doing longer pieces. Why do I suggest this?

With fewer dancers, the organizer should feel like she can sell tickets for a decent price and make enough money that can be split up between the dancers and not result in such an insultingly low number that it’s not even worth bothering.
With fewer dancers per show, each iteration of the show is going to be different. You could have a monthly, semi-monthly or quarterly event that featured different dancers every time, which would encourage fans of the art to come to more shows, because they know they’re going to get a unique experience each time.
This would give dancers and troupes that chafe at the “3-5 minutes for soloists, 5-7 minutes for troupes” typical of most shows the chance to spread their wings and develop a longer set that incorporates tempo changes, mood changes, and possibly even has a story arc.
If you don’t have 5 troupes and 10 soloists in every show, there might actually be enough room for everyone backstage.
Instead of having shows that are “first come first serve” or “I have to invite everyone so no one feels left out”, an organizer can curate a show, ensuring a good mix of styles, or announce a theme, accept submissions, and choose the dancers that best fit the theme. I think this will result in shows that feel more polished.
For the performers, being part of a rotating cast as opposed to performing every month allows for more time to really develop new material, especially when you’re no longer limited by an idea that can be fully expressed in 5 minutes or less.
Less performers per show means less organizational hassle for the host. Do you know how difficult it is to build a really good set list out of 15 songs, 5 of which are large tribal troupes, 3 of which are soloists from those troupes who need time for costume changes, also there’s four drum solos, 3 sword pieces and two veil pieces, and that one dancer needs to leave early for a paid gig, oh and whoops, two troupes sent the same song, now you have to see which of them is willing to change to a different song… And somehow you have to put together a show that has some flow and will keep the audience engaged, with a great opening piece and a powerful ending piece. Yikes.

Now don’t get me wrong. I still feel like there’s room in our community for student showcases, haflas, all-day festival performances and other traditional unpaid opportunities. I just think that we can also work to try to organize some shows that will pay the dancers and provide a different experience for the audience.

Introversion, Social Anxiety, and Belly Dance Events

March 9, 2016Sophia Ravenna

Get on stage in a tight skirt and a bra? Sure, no problem! Talk to strangers? Uhm, well... — Get on stage in a tight skirt and a bra? Sure, no problem! Talk to strangers? Uhm, well…

People are often surprised when they find out that a belly dancer is an introvert, shy, or socially anxious. “But you danced at that big event in front of all those people,” they say. Well sure, but I didn’t have to TALK to those people. I’m a lot more confident in my ability to perform a beautiful dance than I am in my ability to carry on a normal conversation.

I mentioned in my big Tribal Massive Recap that I had some moments of sadness and loneliness during the Massive. This happens to me a lot because I almost always travel alone, and I’m slow to make new friends. It really hit home for me after the Massive Showcase. I sat with people I didn’t know, who knew each other, and they talked a bit with me but mainly to each other. After the show I saw some of my friends from past events in the crowd, but they were all talking to other people. I literally found myself alone in a crowd of people, surrounded by people who were talking to each other while I felt totally isolated. I found myself asking “What am I even doing here?” and determined that I should just leave the casino and stand outside, alone, waiting for the shuttle. Luckily while I was slinking off, one of my classmates saw me and invited me to go grab some pizza with her and her friend while we waited, thus cutting my self-destructive spiral off before it could go too far, but I was feeling pretty low.

I’d say this happens at least once per event that I attend alone — I’ll either find myself feeling alone in a crowd, or once again eating dinner by myself and wishing I was sharing this amazing event with someone. It can often feel like everyone else is there with their troupe, or their best friend, or reconnecting with dancers they’ve met at previous events, and here I am, not just the only one from my town, but the only one from my entire STATE.

Of course, I realize that some of this is my own making. Because I’m shy, I wait for other people to approach me and then when they don’t, I think it’s because I’m not cool enough for them, or they don’t like me, without thinking that maybe they’re just as shy and lonely and thinking the same thing about me.

I’m starting to discover that this is one reason why I like events like the Massive, and 8 Elements and Mira’s NM Retreat. When I’m around the same 20 or so people for a week, I have time to warm up to them. I can see who giggles at a teacher’s sci-fi reference, or likes the same song I do, or shows up wearing a cool pair of green pants that I can comment on. And because we’re together for a week, there’s more chances to attach myself to a group that’s going to lunch together or otherwise make myself part of the gang.

I also really enjoy Waking Persephone, because while it’s more of a festival-style event, it’s still smaller than a TF or LVBDI so you see a lot of the same people over and over again in your workshops or in the halls… and the organizers recognize that a lot of nerdy, Gothy dancers who are drawn to an event like WP are also shy, awkward, and used to being “the weird one” at other dance events, so there’s a lot of ice breaker style moments, as well as a chill lounge to escape to when it gets to be too much.

I feel like this problem is something that it will take me a while to overcome. I hope that someday, I’ll be able to be the sort of dancer who is quick to introduce herself, quick to welcome someone new to the class, and quick to feel comfortable at an event full of strangers, but until that day comes I have to fight against the urge to withdraw and get even more anti-social when I decide, for no good reason, that I’m unwelcome or not good enough.

Fellow introvert dancers, feel free to share your struggles in the comments section. We’re all in this together!

Cultural Appreciation for the Fusion Dancer

December 22, 2015Sophia Ravenna

This one's been a long time coming... — This one’s been a long time coming…

Cultural appropriation is a hot-button issue these days, and I’ve really hesitated to write much about it. There’s a lot of room to say and do the wrong thing, so for the most part I sit here with my head down, trying to make the right decisions and not do anything to willfully offend people, and hopefully minimize the times that I unwittingly offend people.

This past weekend, a blog by Tempest titled “The Heart of Darkness” got me thinking about these issues all over again, not from the angle of “am I apppropriating another’s culture?” but more from the angle of “am I doing enough to appreciate the cultures that I’m borrowing from?”

I’m a fusion dancer. I make no claims to authenticity. I rarely dance to “authentic” music, I don’t wear Egyptian style costumes, I don’t have an Arabic stage name, I don’t dance at a Middle Eastern restaurant. When someone asks me about my style I am quick to point out that I perform a very Americanized style of belly dance. I have never tried to claim that I “have the heart of a g*psy” or “I must have been Egyptian in a past life!” I am honest about who and what I am: a very white girl performing a very young offshoot of an art form with roots in the Middle East.

Not an authentic Middle Eastern costume, obviously.

And yet, for all that I am fusion dancer, and for all that I make no claims to authenticity, that doesn’t change the fact that the roots of my dance are from the Middle East, and that the dance that I do today would not exist as it does now if not for the Egyptian, Turkish, Lebanese (and so on…) women and men who created the dances and music that inspired Americans to try their hands (or hips) at belly dance. I owe a creative debt to those dancers and musicians, even if what I do sometimes bears little resemblance to what they did and are still doing today.

So what can we fusion dancers do, to balance expressing ourselves in the way that feels authentic to our American* experiences while still honoring the cultural legacy of the Middle East? How can we show that what some might see as offensive cultural appropriation is actually loving cultural appreciation?

As with so many issues, I think the answer lies in education. Even if you intend to only ever perform fusion belly dance, educate yourself about the roots of your dance, and the lands where it comes from. There are a lot of great books, blogs and websites for you to read, and I would imagine there are also podcasts and documentaries you could listen to and watch. I have a stack of non-fiction books related to belly dance and Middle Eastern culture, and I try to make a habit of always being in the process of reading one, whether I only have 5 minutes to read a couple pages or can sit down for an hour and really immerse myself.

Make sure to study some more traditional dances. Look. I have decided I am never, ever going to perform Egyptian style belly dance. I don’t have the right stage personality for it, any attempt to be a good Egyptian style dancer would be forced and inauthentic. But I still study it from time to time. And by making a point to study outside of fusion, I’ve discovered that I really like Turkish and would not mind taking regular classes on Turkish belly dance. If you can’t take actual classes, there are plenty of videos on Datura Online, plus about a zillion DVDs you could learn from. You don’t have to study enough that you could perform a full set in a restaurant to rousing applause, but make sure you at least have some familiarity with the roots of your dance, enough to answer questions from curious audience members that want to know why your dance is different from what they saw at the Shishkebab House last week. Besides, maybe you’ll find a move or two that you love and want to incorporate into your fusion vocabulary!

Listen to music from “over there.” Even if you’re a Gothic belly dancer who only performs in Goth clubs to Goth music, listen to Middle Eastern music in your off-time. Buy a few albums, so hopefully some of your money will make it to the artists. Become familiar with the basic rhythms, the common instruments, the classic songs. Choose the genre that appeals to you the most. Personally, I like Arabic pop music about as much as I like American pop music (which is to say I occasionally hear a song I like and have no interest in the rest!), but I could listen to the oud all. day. long.

Look for opportunities to experience Middle Eastern culture in your own community. Patronize your local Lebanese restaurant. Attend cultural festivals. Take an Arabic language class at the community college. This has the benefit of rounding out your experience and understanding of the culture, visibly supporting the culture, and in the case of businesses, literally supporting them with your money.

Be vocal about your appreciation of Middle Eastern culture. Post your favorite music on Facebook. Invite your friends to come with you to watch an Egyptian belly dance show. If you’re up for the confrontation, speak up when someone around you says something untrue and/or hateful about Middle Eastern culture and the Muslim religion (I know not everyone is confrontational or prepared for an argument, the other day someone said something stupid about Syrian refugees to me and I was so surprised to experience that in person vs. on Facebook that I did not have a response).

The goal here is to deepen your knowledge of the roots of your dance, and to broaden your understanding of the culture you’re borrowing from. The more you know about belly dance, the Middle East, Arabic music, and everything that contributed to the evolution of fusion belly dance, the less likely you are to drift from culture appreciation into offensive cultural appropriation.

*I use “American” because I am American, but of course fusion belly dance happens all over the world, so if you’re reading this from outside the US, please insert your culture here.

What to do in sad times?

November 16, 2015Sophia Ravenna

Times are tough, so here's a picture of Theda Beara to cheer you up. — Times are tough, so here’s a picture of Theda Beara to cheer you up.

I don’t usually tie my blog posts into current events, but this weekend has me in an introspective mood, so it’s time to talk about some complicated feelings.

It used to be the world would stop when something terrible happened, but these days it feels like the news is always full of another natural disaster, terror attack, gruesome murder or other serious bit of bad news, whether it’s local or halfway around the world. In the past month alone, I’ve been hit by the sudden loss of two very lovely people from two communities I was part of, in addition to the terror attacks in the news this weekend. And in the face of this, we express our sorrow and our outrage, but still life goes on… a few minutes later, we’re posting pictures of our cats, or a link to our Etsy listings. We have no choice, because the bad news comes so frequently sometimes that if we didn’t move on, we’d never get to post anything happy or ever advertise our wares.

I became really aware of this issue last month, when one of my friends passed away and I wanted to go write a condolence message on a post made by her aunt… and I realized that my profile picture was me in zombie-faerie mode for Halloween. I had to dig through my profile pictures to find one that was appropriately toned-down for writing loving tributes.

Then this morning, I popped onto my fan page to write a little “how was your weekend, here’s some good news I have!” post, but afterwards I felt a little guilty… how can I really ask people how their weekend was, when they may have spent the whole thing glued to the screen, waiting for the latest news developments?

It’s hard to know how to balance grieving about the big picture while still celebrating the small joys in life. Personally, whenever something terrible happens, I feel pushed to work harder on my dreams, whether that means drilling extra hard or spending half an hour working on my improv skills to my favorite music, or signing up for a workshop, or splurging on a new costuming piece. I mean, I’m not going to go around shouting “YOLO!” but the truth is, you DO only live once, and sometimes being reminded of the fragility of life is a good antidote towards procrastination. I’m not going to look back at my life and wish I had spent more time laughing at cat memes on Facebook, but I am going to wish I had signed up for Tribal Massive when I had the chance (so uhm hey, I’m going to Tribal Massive next year).

So if you see me squeeing over my latest pair of dance pants, or sharing a bunch of YouTube videos that inspire me, or pushing my “costume sale” album, it’s not because I’m ignoring the tragedies in the world around me… it’s because I’m trying to eke out as much life as I can in whatever time I have left.

Evolution of Taste

July 1, 2015Sophia Ravenna

Pretty sure I haven't used this pic in forever! — Pretty sure I haven’t used this pic in forever!

When I got back from Tribal Fest, I set a goal for myself: I was going to watch every video on the TF15 channel. Well, I was going to skip the performances I had seen live (unless I wanted to watch them again), but otherwise I’d check them all out. However, I didn’t have to watch them all the way through. If a performance wasn’t doing it for me, I could move on to the next one.

I still haven’t met that goal, although I’m getting pretty close to the end! But as I’ve been watching these videos, I’m finding that a lot of performances that would have really wowed me in the past are leaving me cold. My tastes are changing, but this is no real surprise, as I feel like my tastes have slowly evolved as I’ve grown as a dancer.

Now before I continue with this post, I want to make a big disclaimer. I’m not getting up on a high horse here and I’m not saying that the stuff that I used to like, or the stuff that I still don’t like, is bad. I am NOT going to go off on some rant about “real belly dance” or poo-poo certain styles of fusion. This is just about what has spoken to me at different points in my dance life. There’s no saying when something that spoke to me 3 years ago but which bores me now might not suddenly become really relevant to me again tomorrow. This is a post of personal observations, not a proclamation about what is and is not good belly dance.

Still with me? Cool.

When I first got into belly dance, I had really simple tastes. I wanted things to be flashy and awesome! I remember watching a DVD and there was a tribal fusion dancer (probably Rachel Brice) who was doing a really slow, slinky dance. Now this is really embarrassing to me now, but Baby Dancer Sophia thought to herself “Yeah I guess this is nice and all but I sure wish she would dance faster!” I had no appreciation for slow belly dance, I thought faster was better. And honestly, as a more experienced dancer, I now notice that when I’m at a show, a lot of the general public feels the same way. Sometimes they can appreciate a slow, lovely piece that’s really emotional, especially in a theater setting, but let me tell you, people at Open Stage want either flashy props or something that can clap along to!

As I learned more about dance, I developed an appreciation for technique. Crazy layering, super-fast locks, a zillion spins, Turkish drops, I loved it all. Because I had either tried most of those things, or in the case of Turkish drops, read about how hard they were, I understood how difficult they were. In this stage, I really liked drum solos — especially with a live drummer, because that interaction is fun to watch — and complicated tribal fusion stuff.

Then once I had a teacher pushing me to be more expressive on stage, I gained a real appreciation for dances that expressed emotion. I still liked good technique, but I also loved things that made me feel, even if the technique was more simple. I had experienced how hard it was to be vulnerable on stage, so that made me feel it even more strongly when a dancer would do a really moving piece.

Somewhere around here, probably when I went to my first Tribal Fest, I got into an EVERYTHING IS AWESOME groove, where I loved everything, no matter how far it strayed from “actual belly dance.” Fuse everything with belly dance, baby! Yeah! DO IT! I was really excited about the possibilities of tribal fusion and really tired of people trying to put rules on it. And even if I didn’t like something, even if it left me feeling uncomfortable, I would still champion it in the name of ART.

This is also around the time when a lot of my opinions were also colored by the opinions of my teachers. I would think more favorably of a piece I wasn’t sure that I liked if my teachers had said they thought so-and-so was a good dancer. I would also react more favorably to someone I’d taken a good workshop with, or whose past dances I had really enjoyed.

My love of expressive belly dance morphed into an interest in theatrical belly dance. I learned that dance could tell a more complicated story, that one could even express an entire story arc across an entire show, like in a ballet. I got into the idea of dances where the costume, lighting, music, setting and more could convey different elements of the story. I also developed an appreciation for temple dance, because while I am not spiritual, I really appreciated how some of the troupes created these beautiful dance rituals complete with incense and sacred objects that gave it a sense of the theatric as well.

Recently, I’ve found my tastes retracting, however. I feel like I’ve experience the full spectrum of belly dance performances, I’ve sampled it all, I’ve loved almost all of it, but some of it doesn’t really speak to me anymore. I can still sometimes enjoy technique-heavy belly dance, but I lose interest quickly if there’s not also an emotional connection to the music. I still love theatrical belly dance, but it has to tell a story that makes sense. The same with fusion… The fusion has to make sense, with the music and the costume and the various movement types. If a fusion doesn’t make sense to me, it doesn’t matter if the dancer is well-trained in everything she does, it just doesn’t work for me.

I also find myself having a deeper appreciation for dance that I didn’t care as much about in the past. Now that I’ve had the chance to learn more about Egyptian belly dance, I enjoy it more when I watch it because I understand why the dancer has chosen the particular movements she’s doing. And currently I’m way into musicality. Sometimes a really simple move at just the right moment, perfectly in tune with the music, just blows me away the way Turkish drops used to.

The thing is, as I look back at my past self, I don’t feel like I was ever wrong. My opinions at the time were shaped by what I was studying, what I was exposed to, and what I understood about dance. As my focus as a dancer has changed, my tastes have changed accordingly. And as my confidence has grown, I’ve also felt more comfortable disagreeing with other dancers. There are some things that a lot of people like that have left me cold, or things that most of my friends weren’t into but that touched me in some way. In the past, I might have second-guessed myself and deferred to the opinions of more experienced dancers, but I feel like I have enough experience as both a dancer as an audience member to be comfortable with my own opinions now.

I think it’s important to remember that opinions are just that. Dance is a very subjective art form. Just because you like something more than everything else doesn’t mean that it’s objectively superior, it just means that it’s what speaks the most to you at this moment in time.

There ought to be a book…

April 8, 2015Sophia Ravenna

This picture of my cat buried in laundry is a good illustration of my life.

When I was younger, I had no interest in self-help books. I felt like I could figure out everything on my own. But now that I’m pursuing a career as a dancer and I’m not currently working one-on-one with a mentor, I’m finding that books fill an important niche. There are a few experienced artists I can go to for advice, but rather than constantly pestering them with questions, I get recommendations from them on books and systems that helped them, and I try to see which ones work for me.

Anyway, today I was thinking about it, and I realized that there are plenty of books for tapping into your creativity, managing and maintaining your creativity, handling the business/money side of being a creative professional, but what I really need is a book about how to juggle being a creative professional and having normal real-life responsibilities too. It seems like I’m doing a pretty good job of staying on top of all of my responsibilities as a dancer, but my personal life is a wreck! My house is dirty, and I keep misplacing things, and I almost never see my friends who aren’t also dancers.

I’m imagining a book called “The Artist’s Practical Guide to Real Life.”

Chapters would include…

“How to Remember to Wash the Dishes When You’d Rather Create All Day.”

“How Clean Does the House REALLY Have to Be When Company Comes Over?”

“How to Schedule a Date Around Rehearsals and Shows.”

“How to Organize Your Supplies.”

“How to Stop Yourself From Buying ALL the Supplies.”

“Setting a Reasonable Class Budget.”

“How to Travel to Festivals and Still Take a Family Vacation.”

“Yes, You DO Need to Remember to Eat.”

I wish I could sit down and write this book, because I think it would be a bestseller. Unfortunately, I would have to read the book first in order to know how to organize my life and make time to write!

But seriously, if you know of a book that would help me balance my dancer tasks and my normal human being tasks, please tell me in the comments!

Jealousy is Pointless

April 7, 2015Sophia Ravenna

Here I am feeling distraught that people are jealous about my belt. Photo by Lee Corkett.

If you spend any amount of time on social media, you see a lot of jealousy. Or maybe I’m just really sensitive, because I used to be a very jealous person. It was part of an overall bad pattern of negativity and bitterness. Someone would post something nice that they were doing or had and I’d say “Oh, it must be NICE to be able to go to Europe” or “Gee, I wish I could afford a fancy costume like that” or “UGH I am so jealous of you right now!”

As part of a general effort to improve my outlook on life, I removed that sort of language from my vocabulary. What was even the point of being so negative towards my friends? What kind of friend was I, that I couldn’t be happy that they were happy? And it wasn’t even like my life was bad, I lead a pretty good life, but no one can have everything and I wanted it all. I wanted to keep taking lots of workshops, but also somehow be able to afford nice international vacations and fancy costumes and home improvements and whatever else my friends were doing.

Now, here’s the thing… I think it’s perfectly alright, and even good, to want something that someone else has, as long as you can have it too without taking it away from them. So for example, it is wrong to look at the belt I’m wearing in that photo and think “Wow, I sure love Sophia’s one-of-a-kind Snake Church belt, I should break into her house and steal it while she’s at troupe practice.” But it’s great to think “Wow, I sure love Sophia’s belt and she seems to wear it a lot. I should really sit down and work out a budget plan where I can save up and buy myself a good neutral-colored Snake Church belt that I can wear all the time.”

If you see something, and you want it, ask yourself a few questions… Why do you want it? Can you get it? How can you get it? What are you willing to do to have it?

To really tie this into dance, it’s common to be jealous of another dancer’s technique and abilities. We all want to be the best dancers we can be, right? It’s so easy to watch another dancer and go “UGH I am so jealous of her shimmies!” That jealousy isn’t doing you any good if you just sit there and stew in it, though. Instead, ask yourself “How can I have a shimmy like that?”

Let’s look at a few things that might be preventing you from shimmying the same way as that other dancer, and a few things you could do to channel that silly jealousy into useful progress.

The other dancer’s shimmies look different because she has a different body type than yours.

Do you want to have a body like hers? If so, is there a healthy way to change your body to be more like hers? If the answer to either of these questions is no, you will need to accept that every body’s shimmies look a little different. You can still work on improving yours, but you will never dance exactly like the person you’re admiring, and that’s OK. You’ll come up with your own amazing movements. Practice your shimmies, look for what you love about them, and focus on improving that area until it’s just as amazing, but different from the dancer you were jealous of.

An injury, weakness, tightness or other physical limitation is holding you back.

Realize that it may be time to shift some of your focus away from training your shimmies specifically, and towards working on whatever physical impediment is limiting your progress. This may be as simple as doing some workouts and/or stretching, or working with a physical therapist, or even getting medical treatment such as surgery. So often we ignore this stuff because it’s not FUN like belly dance, and in the case of surgery, it can be scary. But it’s worth it when it makes you a better dancer and prevents further injury or imbalance.

You’ve been neglecting your shimmies in practice lately.

It’s really easy to forget to practice the things that we already know how to do. However, there’s a big difference between being able to do a move, and being awesome at a move. The more you work on your shimmies, the better they get. The more moves you can layer them over. The more strange positions you can stand in and still shimmy. So set yourself a practice goal and stick to it!

The other dancer is actually doing a style of shimmy you’ve never learned.

How exciting! A new move to master! How are you going to learn it? Does your teacher know how to do it? Is there another teacher in town you could get a private lesson from, focused on that shimmy? Is someone teaching it at the festival you’re attending later this year? Is there a video that covers it?

You really can’t figure out why your shimmy doesn’t look like that other dancer and it makes you want to cry.

Don’t cry! You can get to the bottom of this. Sometimes you just really need to work one-on-one with a teacher who will look at what you’re doing and help you figure out why it isn’t working. Sometimes your teacher can do this in the course of a normal class, if the class isn’t too crowded and it’s actually a simple and obvious thing you overlooked. Other times, you may need to schedule a private lesson. Show your teacher a video of what you’re trying to do, explain to her what you’ve done on your own to try to accomplish it, and ask her advice on what you should try next. She’ll probably know the answer, and if not, she can likely recommend someone who’s more knowledgeable about that move and could help you better.

Sure, all of this is more work than sitting at your computer sulking about how someone is better at shimmying than you are, but it’s so worthwhile when you watch a video of yourself and realize that you’ve finally got the shimmy of your dreams.