Bellydancing and....Italian food?!

Yes, that's right - come see me and members of the Daniela Dance Company performing at Cascarino's in Bayside on October 10th, and enjoy a delicious dinner (Italian food, of course!) as well!

Tickets are $30 and include the show, dinnner, dessert, and non-alcoholic drinks. 

Buy tickets below!  (name will be held for reservation - you will not receive an actual ticket).

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Name (for reservation)

I broke my own rule!

I was just reading back through some old blog posts, and I saw this one, where I said I always felt that I needed to have a choreography ready if I was performing on stage (as opposed to the usual improv I do at a restaurant or party). 

Well....I broke my own rule!  I did an improv performance - ON STAGE! - at my latest student showcase.  It wasn't so much by choice - I would have preferred choreographing something but I just didn't really have time to do so this year.  So, I grabbed a veil, put on one of my tried and true songs, and just....made it up as I went along!
I think my biggest fear was going up on stage and blanking out - which is funny because I always say that if you blank out and forget your choreography, you can just switch to improv.  I guess if you blank out when you are improv-ing, you can only switch to...standing still?  So, on the one hand, the stage-improv gave me more anxiety than getting up to perform a choreography.  On the other hand, I was more relaxed, because I didn't have anything I had to remember - I could just do whatever came to mind (and I hoped that something would come to mind!).

It was a great experience.  I did not have any blank-outs, and I felt very free up on the stage.  I would try it again, but only in the same situation as this time - with a short song that I know VERY well!

Career Stability/Longevity

I posted this on bhuz.com a few days ago, but I'd like to get feedback here as well....

First, a little backstory to explain what got me thinking about all this - A few months ago I found out I had a basal cell carcinoma on the tip of my nose...long story short, I had Mohs surgery to remove it three weeks ago, and it turned out to be a lot worse than anyone thought. They actually had to remove some of the cartilage in the tip of my nose because it went down that far (on the surface, it only looked like a teeny tiny little red spot that wouldn't go away). Anyway, the plastic surgeon did a skin graft from another part of my nose to cover the hole, and the healing process is now shaping up to be longer than I had originally anticipated.

Obviously, while this is all going on, i can't gig. No one wants a bellydancer with a bandaged, oozing nose. I'm not even sure how long I'll be out of commission - I had originally budgeted for no gigs the month of May, but that is when I thought I'd only have a few stitches. I figure I am looking at about two months of gigs lost when all is said and done.

So, in the meantime, I've been teaching. Thank GOD I have a day job, because if I had this sort of injury and BD was my only source of income, I'd be in serious doo-doo right now.

Which leads me to my question/thought of the day....we can't always gig. We can't always be the sexy, pretty, mysterious bellydancer that our clients want/expect us to be. Whether it is because we get older, or we get injured, or become pregnant or something else that affects our appearance.... I think that the amount of time in our lives where we can go out there and be the pro bellydance performer is so short compared to the times we cannot.

In my experience, in the times where I can't get out there and perform, I can still get out there and teach. Because you don't need to "look the part" to teach - you just need to know what you are doing. And that doesn't change despite of what you look like. So, if you really want to be a dancer, make a living off of it (or a substantial part of your income, anyway), do you need to be a teacher as well? I have friends who are amazing dancers, but who just don't like teaching, or don't think they are very good at it so they don't do it. Are they destined for a short dance career?

Is teaching the only way we as dancers can insure that we will be around for the long hall? Those who can't do, teach, right?

What do you think? And don't forget to wear sunscreen!!

Twilight Zone (aka oversaturation)

This is something that happened to me a few months ago at a gig, and I posted about it on Bhuz.com. Someone just resurrected the post, which reminded me that I never blogged about this interesting event, so...here it is:

I was at a gig over the summer waiting to go on. It was at a big restaurant with two party rooms. I was standing outside my party room, ready to go, with my gold wings wrapped around me. I look down the hall to the other party room, and there is a bellydancer standing there, ready to go on, with her gold wings wrapped around her. My first thought was this was some cruel joke - I didn't realize there was another room and I thought the host was going to have us both come out together. Then, when I realized she was there for another party, I panicked that we were both at the right parties, that that maitre'd didn't just say to the hosts "the bellydancer is here" (not by name) and stick us in the wrong spots. We quickly introduced ourselves (she wasn't someone I knew and/or recognized - she said she was booked by an agency), and then my music started so I had to go.

But wow, in those first few seconds of seeing a bellydancer down the hall I was soooo confused. And really - is it so common to hire a bellydancer now that two out of two parties in the same place have one performing at the exact same time? I thought we were a special treat for the guests, because most people don't have much exposure to bellydance? Are we becoming trite or cliche? Have we oversaturated the market? Have we made ourselves un-special?

Anyone else have a twilight zone story to share?

How old is too old??

Kind of a spin off to my previous "How young is too young?" post a few months ago....



Lately, I've been getting a lot of comments on my age - good comments, ones like: "Oh, I'm so happy you are young! The last bellydancer we had was really old!" or from a DJ: "Can I have your card? I am always getting requests for bellydancers but the only dancers I know of are so old!"



So, I have two questions: First, does the general public (GP) have a different perspective of what "old" is? When they think "bellydancer" do they think 20-something hot chick with perky boobs and a golden tan? Does the GP think that anything close to 40 is old? Because, I've got to tell you - I have yet to see a website of a 70 year old woman advertising herself for bellygrams. When I think "old", I think grandma-style. And while I, as a dancer, can appreciate that bellydancers get better with age, I am aware that the GP doesn't feel the same. But I am concerned that the label "old" means something totally different for me as it does for the GP.



Which leads me to my second question - will I know when I'm too old?? As I am about the leave the realm of the 20-somethings and embark on a new decade, I worry about "aging out" of this dance, which has also become a pretty lucrative career as well. I mean, I understand that no one wants an old lady dancing at Uncle Bob's birthday party, but will I still think I'm "young enough" when others think I'm past my prime? I don't want to turn into one of those dancers that people complain to me about - the dancer who thinks she's still "got it" when everyone else snickers behind her back.

What do you think? How old is too old, and when should a dancer hang up her bedleh?

Awwwwwww!

Just had to share these....they are from a wedding I recently danced at. I love dancing when there are children in the audience, especially little girls. Little girls love the sparkle and the glitter and prettiness of it all. You can just tell that their new dream is to be a bellydancer when they grow up, which is an especially interesting observation in light of the post below...

Enjoy!

Big Stage, Little Stage

I danced at a party the other day at a catering hall with a HUGE dance floor. The party had about 400-500 guests, so I'm sure they needed the space. But with just my tiny self on this ginormous (it's a word now, I swear. See?) dance floor, I spent half my time running around the dance floor trying to get to each side of the room. Very little time left for the moves that make bellydance what it is, in my opinion. And then, when I'd get to one side of the room, I'd do a vibration, or a shimmy, or some impressive ab-rolling that requires serious muscle control, and then realize that only 1/8 of the party could actually see me! The rest of the guests were scattered around the football-field dance floor - to them, it looked like I was just standing still!

And I was insanely out of breath, after only 20 minutes. I attribute that to the fact that I was running around a heck of a lot more than at a normal party, when I can stand still and do my "tricks" for a big chunk of the show.

I decided that a performance by a single bellydancer (I'm not talking about big, BDSS-type productions) is better suited for a smaller venue. While we might appreciate having enough room to actually move our isis wings around without impediment, our performance translates to the audience much better when they are up close and personal, and we don't need to run around the dance floor like track stars.

What do you think?

Dancer insecurities

A wise old ballet teacher once told me "Dancers are the most insecure people of them all." Mr. Christopher firmly believed that all dancers were insecure - it was in our nature. Which was why he would start pounding his cane into the ground and yell at you if he caught you so much as whisper one word to the person next to you while someone else was dancing - he said that if a dancer sees someone else talking while she is dancing, she automatically thinks that they are talking about her. And not in a good way.



I always thought Mr. Christopher was a little off his rocker in most respects, but this point stuck with me. I think that we dancers are insecure, and I think it is because of the nature of our profession (or hobby) - that we constantly put our whole selves - our bodies, our emotions, everything - out there for the world to enjoy, or critique. How can we not become insecure? What if the world doesn't like our dance - since our dance is really who we are, does that mean they don't like us??



I recently danced at a private party in the back section of a restaurant that had a house bellydancer, who was going on right after my show. The dancer was from Greece (just arrived in America, actually), so in my born-and-raised-America eyes, she was the real deal. The singer for the restuarant was also there, and she was from Greece as well. After my show, both ladies were complimenting me and asking me questions about my dance - how long had I been dancing, who did I study with, etc. To anyone else, their questions would have seemed like genuine admiration - they really liked my show. But to me, the insecure dancer, their questions seemed insincere - like they thought I was crap and they were mocking me. Was that the case? I don't think so, I think they really did like the show - but there's always the nagging thought in the back of my head that I'm not really as good as I hope I am. Am I that insecure that I can't recognize and accept a compliment when I get one?



Do other dancers feel this way? Was Mr. Christopher right? Are we all insecure? Or is there a way to overcome the insecurities?

I wanna be a rockstar....

I've performed at a lot of parties throughout my professional dance career. I've met a lot of people and experienced many different situations. Over the years, I've experience two huge extremes in the types of parties I perform at, and I've labeled them appropriately....the "plague parties" and the "rockstar parties."

A "plague party" is one in which the guests treat me like I have the plague - I spend half of my time trying to pull people up to dance with me, and rather than being willing participants in the show, the guests shriek and recoil in horror and will not budge. That would be bad enough on its own, but another common characteristic of a plague party is the "point at your friend" game that the guests inevitably play. As I make my way around the room, every table will have at least one person pointing at someone else at their table and mouthing "pick him, pick him." So, I will go over to the unsuspecting guest and attempt to dance with them, which will always end with yet another shriek and recoil, at which point I move to the next table and start the process all over.

Plague parties really stink, because I can never get into the groove of the performance. I spend most of the set just traveling around to the guests trying to get them involved, and by the time I realize that absolutely no one wants to get up and dance (despite the fact that half of the guests are still furiously pointing at their friends and trying to get my attention so that I will dance with their friends, and their friends are now hiding under the table to avoid me), it's almost time for me to make my exit. Plague parties can be very trying and boring, and it's so hard to keep your energy up during your performance when the audience gives nothing back.

A "rockstar party", on the other hand, is the complete opposite of a plague party. Rockstar parties are just like they sound - I am a rockstar. Everyone wants to get up and dance with me because, well, who wouldn't want to dance with the rockstar? The audience is so into the show, cheering and clapping and encouraging. No one points at their friend in an attempt to embarrass them because (1) no one thinks it's embarrassing to dance with the bellydancer and (2) everyone wants to dance with me themselves!

Although it may not be noticeable to the guests at either of these parties, I feel like my performance is so much better at a rockstar party, because I feed off the energy of the audience and I am truly enjoying myself while I'm out there. I love rockstar parties - I wish they were all like that!

Glam. Not Glam.

I had my monthly show at Parker Jewish Adult Day Care today. Forty five minutes. They have me dance for forty five minutes. I now know why football players throw up after long, hard practices.

As I hunched over the toilet at the Day Care center dry heaving, I laughed to myself. I thought of this post, by Lucy on Bhuz, and how appropriate it was especially at that moment. So, with Lucy's permission, I am posting her extremely on-point monologue here for you to read. Enjoy.

Not glam: An inch of black crust on your feet from dancing in dirty restaurants. Detangling your sweaty, hairsprayed hair when you get home. Ass sweat. Crotch sweat. Belly button sweat. Sweat in places you didn’t even know you COULD sweat. The hard, rough calluses you get on the balls of your feet. Deflecting patrons who want to tip you in inappropriate places. Trying to keep your spirits up when you’re dancing for people who aren’t even paying attention to you, or worse, giving you dirty looks. Arguing with a club owner over money. Trying to dance with your eyelids stuck together thanks to an overzealous application of eyelash glue. Standing in a filthy kitchen, waiting to dance, and trying to keep the hem of your $800 costume off the floor. Changing in a cockroach-ridden storage closet. Trying to dab the sweat dripping down off the tip of your nose without the patrons noticing. Attempting to pee while still in costume without letting any part of your designer duds touch the toilet seat. Restaurant owners who think you can do a show, no problem, in the 6″ between tables and without any open space at all. Taking your wig off in the car and throwing it in the back seat, and then realizing that the people in the next car over are watching you. The smell of your head after you’ve sweated in a wig for three shows. Getting your veil back after a show and realizing that someone accidentally dipped it in hummus. Waking up the morning after a show with weird dance-related injuries - a rhinestone-shaped bruise on your knee, pinch marks from your bangles, scratches on your underarms from where you brushed against a jutting prong on your costume bra. Keeping your stage face on while a drunk asshole shouts, “Hey, loooookammmmme - I’m a bellydancer TOO!” and starts pelvic-thrusting his way across the floor (although you get your revenge when you swat him harder than is really necessary during your “playful” cane song). Waking up the next morning and realizing that you forgot to unpack your costume bag after the show last night, opening it up and being hit with the smell of damp sweat, shisha and cigarette smoke. Running into the back room after a show and having to bend over, heaving, to get enough air into your lungs.

Glam, or just plain fun: Making a little girl’s face light up. Getting a little Persian grandmother up to dance and having her family stuff your costume with twenties in appreciation. Buying out CVS’s entire stock of false eyelashes. New costumes. New music. Hitting the beat JUST right and doing something amazing that you’d never done before, never dreamed of doing before. Dancing to your favorite song at an Arabic nightclub and hearing the crowd sing the lyrics for you. Navigating your way across a stage that is so covered in dollar bills that you are afraid of slipping. Seeing yourself make money, REAL money, not a paycheck - dollar bill after dollar bill, until afterward, you cannot even close your wallet for all the money. Having someone want to show their appreciation for you so much that they write you a check as a tip. Dancing for people who appreciate all the work and research and sweat time you’ve put into becoming a great dancer. Being on stage, being beautiful, creating art with your body and your spirit, becoming music embodied, watching your skin shimmer and shimmy under the lights.

Lucy's website is http://www.lucy-dances.com/ and her blog is www.sparklepirate.wordpress.com

Gotta give 'em props.

Or do you?

Sometimes, I feel like my bellydance performance is more of a freak show than a dance show. I feel like, if I actually went out there and just DANCED for 20 minutes, the audience would get bored. So I have to distract them, with fun and exiciting props. Oooohh, look at the pretty wings! Ooooohh, watch me balance this sharp and dangerous sword on various body parts! (I haven't yet entered the realm of flaming candelabra on my head, but I'm sure it's only a matter of time...).

It's not that I don't enjoy using props. I do, really. They are fun, and sometimes challenging, and I do like working withthem. My current, standard show consists of wings, veil, sword and finger cymbals.

It's just that I sometimes wonder if I'd be able to hold the audiences attention without them? We live in a world where live action movies like Spiderman can show real, human actors swinging from building to building from spiderwebs coming out of their wrists. Are audiences jaded because of it? Does it take a lot more to "entertain" now that hollywood and technology have set the bar so high?

Can a simple dance awe the audience? Or do today's audiences need more?

Connecting with your audience

As our show nears closer and closer, my students are starting to perfect the steps of their dances. But there's more to a performance than just executing steps. Even a choreography that is done to perfection may be boring for an audience to watch if the dancer does not "connect with her audience."

What do I mean by "connecting with your audience?" Well, for one - you must look up! It seems so simple and obvious as you sit here and read this, but many dancers, once they are put in a situation where there is an audience watching them, find it difficult to unglue their gaze from the floor. So...look up! If you find it intimidating to catch the eye of an audience member, pick a spot right above the heads of the audience to focus you attention. The audience will not realize you are staring above them, and it keeps you from looking at the floor. And if you don't mind locking eyes with someone in the crowd, by all means, do it!!

Another tip for connecting with your audience is to enjoy what you are doing. In class, I always stress the importance of smiling, but I think true performing means more than just a smile. Don't get me wrong - if your options are "no smile" and "smile" - definitely smile! But why not try having a little more fun with it? Are you enjoying yourself? Let that show on your face. Expressions that are appropriate for the song and steps of your dance can go a long way in conveying to the audience that you love what you are doing, and they should love it too.

Finally, it's important to remember that, especially if you are performing on a stage, the audience will see everything much smaller than it actually is. For the same reason that stage makeup is so much heavier than real life makeup, so too your moves must be a bit bigger and more defined when you are on stage, versus when you are in class. I'm not advocating forgetting all your form and technique and going all-out crazy when you are on stage. What I'm saying is - make your hip drops sharper, your head snaps snappier, and your camels more undulate-y (what? You get what I mean...). You don't want to perform an entire drum solo of what you think are crazy shimmies, only to have your audience say "Why was that girl just standing still for most of her dance?" because your tiny shimmies got lost on their way to the audience.

So, those are my off-the-top-of-my-head suggestions for improving your "performance" skills. I know there are loads more out there, can you suggest any?