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April 19, St.-Stephen-in-the-Fields Church, Toronto
I have to admit, when I first heard the concept for Inversion: Rewind show, I was dubious. I thought people would quickly sicken of hearing Beats Antique's "Trinkit" more than a half-dozen times in less than two hours. But then I saw the radically different interpretations, and I was won over. It was an incredible show, filled with stellar performances in a wide array of styles. No two interpretations were even slightly similar. Accents in the song which demanded I place special emphasis on them in my dance were completely ignored by other dancers who found their own key points. I danced with poi. One troupe danced with hats. Another dancer with an umbrella. Another with a puppet and a huge paper hoop skirt. One with a chair and spider-like hand movements. We were all different, and we somehow made the song different. After the show, I heard many people say they hadn't even realized we were using the same music until well into the second act.
And it wasn't just the dancers who were great, and who made this my all-time favourite belly dance gig.
And as for my own performance? This is my third time dancing at one of Audra's events, and the previous two times, I felt off. The first time, I was dancing on a badly sprained ankle. The second time, I just wasn't connecting with my music in a way that felt natural to me. This time around, I'm ok with what I did. "Trinkit" is admittedly not my favourite piece to dance to, and after almost two hundred listenings of the song (no exaggeration. My iTunes says I listened to it 178 times, and that's not including the times I listed to it on my iPod), I'll be perfectly fine with never hearing it again for a few years. It's not the most ideal song for me to spin poi to, but the glitchiness of the tune let me hit a few beats to maximum effect (gotta love that double kick change near the end).
In contrast, I only listened to my other song a couple dozen times at most, and it was far less challenging for me, even if the dance I did to it was far more complex. I chose "Orca" by Wintersleep at the eleventh hour, and beyond a bit of visualizing in my chair to the song, didn't practice to the piece at all. But I didn't need to. I've been thinking about this song for over a year. The song speaks to me, tells me to dance to it in a very particular fashion, and does so in no uncertain terms. And so I complied, filling the space around me with what I was feeling internally. The song switches between soft, plaintive singing to harsh crescendos, so I danced it in two corresponding styles. I kept the floorwork soft and slow for the quiet parts of the song, and added a violent sort of martial arts and zaar fusion to the aggressive bits. I rationed out my eye contact with the audience for maximum effect. I floated off the floor, hovering just off the stage with the power of my thighs. I raked my hair across my face. I kicked. I clenched fists. I buried my face in my hands. And when the applause struck me, I was grateful.
It is for moments like these that I dance.
I have to admit, when I first heard the concept for Inversion: Rewind show, I was dubious. I thought people would quickly sicken of hearing Beats Antique's "Trinkit" more than a half-dozen times in less than two hours. But then I saw the radically different interpretations, and I was won over. It was an incredible show, filled with stellar performances in a wide array of styles. No two interpretations were even slightly similar. Accents in the song which demanded I place special emphasis on them in my dance were completely ignored by other dancers who found their own key points. I danced with poi. One troupe danced with hats. Another dancer with an umbrella. Another with a puppet and a huge paper hoop skirt. One with a chair and spider-like hand movements. We were all different, and we somehow made the song different. After the show, I heard many people say they hadn't even realized we were using the same music until well into the second act.
And it wasn't just the dancers who were great, and who made this my all-time favourite belly dance gig.
- It was the venue. St.-Stephen-in-the-Fields church is a gorgeous space. Although I am a distinctly irreligious person, the stained glass, impressive pipe organ, and soaring arches provided a warm ambience and intimate venue.
- It was the acoustics. The vaulted ceilings and size of the room made the sound resonate in the warmest fashion.
- It was the costuming. Great care had been taken with what the dancers were wearing. Outfits were well-matched with performance pieces, and in the instance of Maryfer's crazy hoop skirt, integral to the dance.
- It was the audience. In performance, I personally find a form of symbiosis. If either the performer or audience doesn't do their job, the performance loses something. At Inversion: Rewind, both audience and performers did their job beautifully. Even when I was under the blinding spotlights, when I couldn't see the people filling the seats, I knew they were there. I could feel their spellbound attention directed at me, and I soaked it up greedily, pulling it into myself and directing it right back out at them in the form of my dance. And when I stood backstage and watched the other performances, I could see the same thing was happening with the other dancers. The audience was jubilant and exuberant with the joyous performances, and hushed and reverent with the more reflective dances.
And as for my own performance? This is my third time dancing at one of Audra's events, and the previous two times, I felt off. The first time, I was dancing on a badly sprained ankle. The second time, I just wasn't connecting with my music in a way that felt natural to me. This time around, I'm ok with what I did. "Trinkit" is admittedly not my favourite piece to dance to, and after almost two hundred listenings of the song (no exaggeration. My iTunes says I listened to it 178 times, and that's not including the times I listed to it on my iPod), I'll be perfectly fine with never hearing it again for a few years. It's not the most ideal song for me to spin poi to, but the glitchiness of the tune let me hit a few beats to maximum effect (gotta love that double kick change near the end).
In contrast, I only listened to my other song a couple dozen times at most, and it was far less challenging for me, even if the dance I did to it was far more complex. I chose "Orca" by Wintersleep at the eleventh hour, and beyond a bit of visualizing in my chair to the song, didn't practice to the piece at all. But I didn't need to. I've been thinking about this song for over a year. The song speaks to me, tells me to dance to it in a very particular fashion, and does so in no uncertain terms. And so I complied, filling the space around me with what I was feeling internally. The song switches between soft, plaintive singing to harsh crescendos, so I danced it in two corresponding styles. I kept the floorwork soft and slow for the quiet parts of the song, and added a violent sort of martial arts and zaar fusion to the aggressive bits. I rationed out my eye contact with the audience for maximum effect. I floated off the floor, hovering just off the stage with the power of my thighs. I raked my hair across my face. I kicked. I clenched fists. I buried my face in my hands. And when the applause struck me, I was grateful.
It is for moments like these that I dance.
