Artemis has done a great job telling Freddies story for us. See all three parts at:
http://www.gildedserpent.com/art46/cssartifreddie1.html
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Friday, January 2, 2009
Amen, Lucy!
This explains it perfectly!
Original post here: http://www.lucy-dances.com/glam.html
Life as a Dancer.
I wrote this in the summer of 2007 after reflecting on my three years (so far!) of performing, and posted it on Bhuz, a popular bellydance board. The reaction was instantly "amen," "that's EXACTLY how I feel" and "Wow, couldn't have said it better myself." If you've ever been curious, THIS, my friends, is what the life of a performing dancer is like.
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 what makes it worth everything.
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. Being in love with your audience, because when everything lines up just so, you really, truly love them all, and that love radiates from your face, your entire being. 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, forgetting everything else in the world but this moment, this brief moment of ecstasy as you become divine.
Original post here: http://www.lucy-dances.com/glam.html
Life as a Dancer.
I wrote this in the summer of 2007 after reflecting on my three years (so far!) of performing, and posted it on Bhuz, a popular bellydance board. The reaction was instantly "amen," "that's EXACTLY how I feel" and "Wow, couldn't have said it better myself." If you've ever been curious, THIS, my friends, is what the life of a performing dancer is like.
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 what makes it worth everything.
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. Being in love with your audience, because when everything lines up just so, you really, truly love them all, and that love radiates from your face, your entire being. 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, forgetting everything else in the world but this moment, this brief moment of ecstasy as you become divine.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
A must read
Baghdad Burning is the book.
Baghdad Burning:http://riverbendblog.blogspot.com/
Warning: Heart wrenching, what's even worse is that it was never finished...
Baghdad Burning:http://riverbendblog.blogspot.com/
Warning: Heart wrenching, what's even worse is that it was never finished...
Sunday, December 21, 2008
No Booze, No Belly Dancers
http://www.cnn.com/video/#/video/international/2008/12/18/mme.b.no.more.minibars.cnn
Friday, December 12, 2008
This is perfect!
Taken from shira.net
To All Students,
Regarding "Loyalty" to Your Teacher
By Amanda Niehaus
Dear students of this beautiful art form,
I am a teacher. I teach because I am passionate about this dance and I want others to share my passion.
I am not teaching because I require a fan club.
I am not teaching because I require devotees or because I need hero worship.
As your teacher, my job is to teach you; to inspire you to be your best. If I am a really good teacher, then I also will not be your only teacher. I will encourage you to study with other teachers who have skills and experience I lack. Because I am not the end-all, be-all of belly dance knowledge.
You as a student owe me nothing. You may thank me after class, you may credit me on your first performance dvd, you may remember me when you are touring with Jillina, but you do not owe me anything. (You paid for your class. I taught you. We are even.)
I am an emotionally-mature adult (for the most part.) I do not require your "loyalty" or allegiance. You do not have to take my classes just because I offer them, or just because I was your first teacher. You will not be "cheating on me" by taking classes with another instructor.
You should be taking my class because you enjoy it and are learning something. If you are no longer enjoying it or learning from it, then I would be the first to encourage you to find another, or a different, teacher. I want you to love this dance as much as I do.
Your job is to learn and practice, not to worry about my ego. I will not be "mad" at you for moving to a new level with your dance. You need to worry about YOU, and making yourself a better dancer. I will never resent you and I will only respect you for moving onward and upward.
Do what's right for you. I'll be fine, whether I'm dancing beside you or watching you from the audience. I promise.
Yours truly,
Your dance teacher
To All Students,
Regarding "Loyalty" to Your Teacher
By Amanda Niehaus
Dear students of this beautiful art form,
I am a teacher. I teach because I am passionate about this dance and I want others to share my passion.
I am not teaching because I require a fan club.
I am not teaching because I require devotees or because I need hero worship.
As your teacher, my job is to teach you; to inspire you to be your best. If I am a really good teacher, then I also will not be your only teacher. I will encourage you to study with other teachers who have skills and experience I lack. Because I am not the end-all, be-all of belly dance knowledge.
You as a student owe me nothing. You may thank me after class, you may credit me on your first performance dvd, you may remember me when you are touring with Jillina, but you do not owe me anything. (You paid for your class. I taught you. We are even.)
I am an emotionally-mature adult (for the most part.) I do not require your "loyalty" or allegiance. You do not have to take my classes just because I offer them, or just because I was your first teacher. You will not be "cheating on me" by taking classes with another instructor.
You should be taking my class because you enjoy it and are learning something. If you are no longer enjoying it or learning from it, then I would be the first to encourage you to find another, or a different, teacher. I want you to love this dance as much as I do.
Your job is to learn and practice, not to worry about my ego. I will not be "mad" at you for moving to a new level with your dance. You need to worry about YOU, and making yourself a better dancer. I will never resent you and I will only respect you for moving onward and upward.
Do what's right for you. I'll be fine, whether I'm dancing beside you or watching you from the audience. I promise.
Yours truly,
Your dance teacher
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Check out this Documentary on Lucy of Cairo
This is awesome!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0zm6_SnARsI
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0zm6_SnARsI
Saturday, October 25, 2008
One of Boston's first dancers...
Born in Boston, recorded by Thomas Edison:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f4u5o9zmANc
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f4u5o9zmANc
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