Unexpected art

Earlier tonight, I attended a hafla at which Jennie was dancing with fellow bellydance students. The organizers billed the event as an "Experimental Dance Theater Show," words that would normally send me fleeing. In this case, however, it amounted to bellydancers mixing other techniques with bellydancing and performing to non-traditional music. So, I wasn't too worried.

I did not, on the other hand, expect to find much to charm me. After all, we're talking experimental dance.

I was wrong.

I enjoyed almost all of the performances, but two stood out and reminded me of the great pleasure even small bits of art can provide.

The first was an interpretive dance to Annie Lennox's "Little Bird." From the write-up and the on-stage setup (a blindfolded, heavyset dancer with her legs bound together with ribbons), I expected the worst kind of interpretive dance. Instead, the dancer's exuberance and her obvious joy in the performance elevated it into a small moment of sincere art. Sincerity is something many critics use only in negative reviews, but I hate that; sincere feelings matter. In any case, this woman's performance won me over.

The second dance that really grabbed me was a tribal fusion number set to Static X's "So Cold." The dancer, an instructor in another city, had a mesmerizing stage presence and amazing body control and movements. I'd attend an hour of just her dancing.

I often fear that left to my own devices I might not leave my house for large stretches at a time, content to work and immerse myself in reading and electronic entertainments. Nine out of ten times that someeone persuades me to attend a live performance, however, I come away glad I did. I should not forget that fact.

It's late, and I have more work to do, so I will save for tomorrow my review of what I now believe to be absolutely the best restaurant in my area.

Bellydance superstars

Art week continued tonight with a trip by Jennie, Sarah, and me to see Bellydance Superstars. I've enjoyed the local bellydance shows ("haflas") that I've attended, but they haven't made me feel compelled to seek out more bellydancing. Tonight's performance was, as one would expect from a national touring company, a much more accomplished presentation than the local shows, and I enjoyed it thoroughly. The twelve dancers were all at least very good, and several were amazing. I particularly enjoyed the main dancer and the gothic tribal dancers.

I also liked the fact that this show did not shy away from the roots of bellydance: a celebration of the female form, or, more to the point, sex. While never being crass or resorting to unnecessary nudity, they combined artistry with sensuality beautifully. As someone who studiously avoids most dance shows, I wholeheartedly recommend this one.

Here's to the bellydancers and singers and artists everywhere

Last night, we went to Fourth Friday, a local performance event in a small venue in the back of Ruggero's piano store. My friend, Eric, is the master of ceremonies, and he also sings a number at the start of the show. The one he sang this time, "The Gasman Cometh," was fun, and he did his usual good job with it. Sarah and her friend Lucy were also playing, Lucy two long violin pieces, and Sarah the piano accompaniment for one of those songs.

Tonight, several of us went to see a local bellydance performance, or hafla, that took place in a community center. Jennie's teacher was organizing and hosting the event, and Jennie was one of the dancers, so we went primarily to support her. She danced in both a group number and a solo, and she did a very good job and was lovely to watch in both.

As I sat in the audience on these two nights, I was struck again by the need that so many of us have to do some kind of art, create something, be it singing or playing music or dancing or writing or painting or carving or sewing or whatever. Most of us will never be very good, much less world-class, at the art we love, but we persist. The world is, I truly believe, a much better place for our efforts.

I was also struck by the bravery of it all. In a world with professional music available all around us, the singers and pianists and violinists at Fourth Friday all took the stage in front of strangers to do their art. In a culture obsessed with perfect female bodies and flawless performances, women of all shapes and sizes walked in revealing costumes onto a stage in front of strangers and did their best.

I'm richer for their efforts. We all are. Here's to them, the bellydancers and singers and artists of all stripes, those in my extended family and those I've never met. Long may you practice your art.