Alika Jeffs, Alchemist

Alika Jeffs, Alchemist

Hip Hop Never Stops © Sam Mahfouz

I must say that I went to see Humble The Poet not really knowing what to expect, as I’ve never listened to or watched any of his material before. After leaving his show I was extremely surprised that I hadn’t heard of him prior to the event, as he delivered such talent, confidence and a brilliant performance. Coming from Toronto, Canada his material is all relevant to our current affairs around the globe. He also adds his own personal views on certain topics which I never found biased or arrogant in any way.

It’s great to see that he has such a passion and understanding for hip hop and he encourages anybody and everybody to take part in the “universal sport” to keep its roots of real story telling alive, whether through MC-ing, DJ-ing, B-boying or Graffiti. I’d recommend anyone of any ethnicity or age group to listen to what he has to say and respect his powerful poetry.

Illustration by Myrto Williams

www.myrto-williams.com

This is a visual response to the interactive performance called ‘The London Jungle Book’ which was performed in the Clore Ballroom on Saturday the 14th of April. I especially liked the imaginative props and descriptions used throughout the performance. One to which I had a particularly strong visual reaction was the desciption of the Tube being like a worm snuggling its way through the earth.

This is especially true of South Asia, somewhere frequently defined by the assault it performs on every human sense. The first thing most people notice when stepping onto this sub-continent is the hot touch of humidity on their skin, and then the collage of unfamiliar objects and alien situations that flood their vision. Next, an exotic mix of smells raids their nostrils, infused with the tang of spices and the musty sweat of determination, all of which is brought vibrantly to life when the first taste of South Asian cuisine is introduced to their lips.

And then sound washes across the scene like a wave tumbling onto a beach, irrepressibly encroaching from every direction. It is inescapable and totally pervasive, unrelenting in intensity and exhausting as a result. Yet it is one of South Asia’s greatest characteristics, something that no visitor can forget, nor would they ever wish to forego. To those people, the following soundscapes will be familiar, each part of the sub-continent’s complex tapestry of noise.

Traffic Jam

A tired engine groans beneath a heavy burden, echoed moments later by another vehicle carrying far more than it was ever designed to bear. Metal scrapes against metal; bumpers rattle across the tarmac. Each pothole induces a muffled thump, accompanied by the aching creak of rusty suspension. A horn bellows, not out of aggression but of acknowledgment. A different horn responds, and then another. And another. Soon, a symphony of horns join together in an unending crescendo.

The traffic moves no faster.

A Banquet

Laughter. High and rhythmic, resounding and sincere, broken only by mouthfuls of curry-soaked chapatti bread. A radio in the corner crackles into life, spitting forth sirens and sitars in a distorted fuzz, elevating the atmosphere to a heightened conviviality. A cascade of chai gurgles while poured, beside pots that bubble and stoves that hiss. Conversation narrows to a single speaker, who holds the stares of all around with an unfamiliar story spoken in familiar tones. Tension builds. Breathes are held. A punch line is delivered.

The group collapse into laugher once more.

Street Hawking

Conversation babbles like a stream, a murmured backdrop to an unremarkable day. Men discuss the latest cricket score, making their arguments with heavily exaggerated gestures. A tourist walks past: a customer, an opportunity. Voices rise to sell their wares, renewing final deals and undercutting the competition. Languages merge and arguments flare, an impassioned exchange of offers and counter-offers, of needs and means. A smile indicates it’s all a sport, but in this match both participants are winners.

A deal is struck.

Call to Prayer

The palpable stillness of a silent morning is shattered by a sudden lone wail, cracking against the quietness like a glass smashing against a floor. It twists and turns, rises and falls, never settling for more than a few seconds. It pierces the air and invades every home, luring listeners to its core. Within it can be heard a mélange of emotions: desperation and faith; solemnity and belief; dedication and suffering.

The call to prayer is never ignored.

Images by meg and rahul and mckaysavage

In this double bill Shane and Divya gave the audience an insight into the diversity that is present in South Asian dance and within that, it was also very clear that these two dancers both had their own individual interests and approaches to the movement that they had created stemming from different backgrounds and training.

Shane Shambu performed first that evening in a piece that combined visual theatre with striking physicality and artistic dexterity, all of which was deeply rooted in his Bharatanatyam training. The strong narrative drew on strong emotions that were conveyed to the audience with an intensity and clarity, thus, making it compelling to watch. Divya Kasturi’s work was one of articulated beauty, sincerity and a level of technical skill that any dancer would be in awe of. Divya’s background has seen her train in Kathak and Bharatanatyam. In addition to this she is also an accomplished singer, which her work that evening was also able to highlight.

I was completely drawn into the performances; the enticing beauty of the articulation in the hands in the mudras, the defined and eclectic use of different rhythms and how the dancers inhabited the movement in every sense, including through facial expression.

Another style in South Asian dance, which I have touched upon in a previous blog  when I interviewed Katie Ryan, was Odissi, so I thought I would just finish off this blog by sharing a little about what Katie has shared with me about it.

Odissi is a classical dance style that originates from Orissa in Eastern India. Prior to being performed as stage art, Odissi was danced in a religious context as a form of worship.

The Odissi that we see performed today takes influences from contextual sculpture and text. Odissi can be in a ‘pure dance’ form (Nritta) and ‘expressional’ (Nritya/Abhinaya) most commonly to convey a narrative.

It is characterised by two stances –

1. Tribhanga (which literally means, ‘three parts break’, so there are 3 bends in the body; at the neck, waist and knee, hence the body is oppositely curved at waist and neck which gives it a gentle “S” shape )

2. Chauka (where there is equal weight distribution, with a wide stance in the legs and outstretched arms to create 4 right angles in the body).

Then, this is layered with the intricate hand gestures, neck movements and articulations; as well as movements with the eyes and of course, the astounding rhythmical footwork.

The relationship that South Asian dance, has with the musical accompaniment I find to be jaw-dropping and beautifully hypnotic. The body becomes the artistic instrument to highlight and accent the layers of rhythm, creating complementing accents that connect the two art forms within the one performance.

Whilst learning about Odissi I discovered that a classical programme of Odissi repertoire would conclude with ‘Moksha’. Moksha is described as a pure dance piece that increases in speed. The aim is for it to be performed with a meditative feeling, where the dancer is aiming “to reach salvation through their dancing”. This demonstrates perfectly the relationship between movement and music. As a dancer myself, I find it truly fascinating and it must be absolutely wonderful when you manage to achieve that level of ‘connection’ between your body and the accompaniment.

I am desperate to try it! Who wants to come dancing?

Blogging has created the perfect opportunity to have a catch up with my dancing friend, Katie Ryan. I first met Katie four years ago, when she was a final year student at London Contemporary Dance School. As part of their BA degree programme, LCDS offer the opportunity to study Ballet or South Asian Kathak technique in support of contemporary. Katie was studying Kathak, so I thought this would be a good place to begin our conversation…

What made you decide to study Kathak alongside contemporary during your training at London Contemporary Dance School?

I had already been training in another style of South Asian classical dance called Odissi since I was 6. Although Odissi and Kathak are different in a lot of ways, there are some common principals which run though South Asian dance and I thought it would be good to keep developing my strengths in these areas whilst training in Contemporary dance.

What would you say are the fundamental differences between these two dance styles?

Although they often share the same venues and programming in a UK theatre context I would say classical forms of South Asian dance such as kathak, bharatanatyam and odissi are more parallel to ballet in that they are formal styles with a set technique and codified movement vocabulary that identifies the style and its particular aesthetic. Traditionally South Asian classical dance uses a combination of abstract and narrative composition. There is a very strong link between the music composition and movement composition – the rhythm of the percussion is mirrored by the rhythm of the dancer’s footwork, the musical phrasing generally matches the movement phrasing. Historically the narratives expressed through dance have been religious poetry set to music and interpreted by the dancers – these narratives are mostly from the Hindu mythological tradition, but there are also many Islamic influences in kathak. Many of the South Asian dance styles have evolved from temple dance forms – danced worship – to be the stage art forms they are today. Kathak has a different heritage – a combination of a storytelling tradition and a performance tradition from the royal Mugal courts gave birth to this dance style.

So…those are distinct differences in historical development, content and context.

In terms of differences in movement vocabulary and technique between kathak and contemporary, kathak would be set apart by its use of rhythmic footwork, multiple turns on the heel, detailed use of hand gesture, more limited use of floorwork (kneeling and sitting – yes, lying down and rolling – very unlikely), eye movements, animated facial expression – sometimes quite exaggerated/stylised, more limited use of jumping or rising (small jumps or rises are used, but less frequently than in contemporary).

There would be a different list again for each style of South Asian classical dance…but the common elements would be:

• rhythmic footwork
• animated facial expressions
• detailed hand gestures

It is important to note that the above are all characteristics of the traditions, but they do not define it – as with all dance forms they are evolving into more contemporary/ neo-classical forms or extending the boundaries within the classical tradition.

Are there any similarities between contemporary dance and Kathak?

Hmm..tough one – it’s also very hard to define contemporary dance – which I would say is more amorphous!

Common elements between kathak and contemporary dance could be: grounded quality, a fluid movement quality, use of high speed movement… I’m sure there are more…

What Kathak dancers and performances have inspired you?

Akram Khan (Desh & Zero Degrees are my favourites)

Aditi Mangaldas

Kumudini Lakhia (choreographer and director of Kadamb)

Aakash Odedra

Yuko Inoue

Gauri Sharma – my teacher at LCDS

Urja Thakore

Diya Kasturi 

What are your top tips for anyone who would like to learn to dance Kathak?

http://www.pulseconnects.com and http://www.southasiandance.org.uk for events and classes listings.

There are lots of classes out there now and you can even do exams in kathak with the ISTD syllabus if you want. 

Katie Ryan (left) performing as part of Odissi Ensemble with Khavita Kaur. Image credit - Simon Richardson

Every one of my senses was overwhelmed and exhausted. In a single short walk from the taxi to my hostel, I’d smelt sugars, spices and various secretions; I’d heard horns and laughter, music and prayer; I’d seen one hundred near-crashes and one thousand near-witnesses; I’d tasted the musk of an air totally drained of its vitality; I’d felt a street full of people stop and stare.

I’d only been in India for three hours, but already it had defeated me.

I never thought that England would be that different from South Asia. I went to school with people from Pakistan, ate Indian takeaways every couple of weeks, and would often happen upon a Bollywood film while channel flicking. These experiences shaped my perception of South Asia into something romantic and dazzling, a sub-continent drenched in colour and bursting with life.

I was right, of course: South Asia is bursting with life, but for someone who grew up in the middle of England, that life can seem too copious, too intense, and too overwhelming. It’s impossible to describe just how it feels to step out of the airport in Delhi and into a tussling mass of people, each vying passionately for your attention, desperate to be noticed and given an opportunity to sell their service. The barrage doesn’t diminish until you arrive at the sanctuary of your hostel, and even then you are constantly aware of the activity from which you are separated by only a thin wall.

I spent ten days in India before heading to Nepal, a move I labelled at the time an escape. Here, I found life to be far more manageable, and I was able to process and enjoy what I experienced straight away rather than retrospectively, which was a total contrast to my first impressions of India. Indeed, it wasn’t until I got back to England six months later that I reflected upon my first day on the sub-continent and began to understand how seminal it had been.

I misguidedly placed immediate blame upon India for destroying my preconceptions and shoving me so far beyond my comfort zone, a feeling perpetuated by the ceaselessness of the place. What I should have blamed was my romantic expectations and the ideal I had formulated in my mind, which led directly to an elevated level of anticipation waiting to be realised. The reality of India was not actually any worse than this, it was simply different, which is exactly what creates a culture shock.

South Asia has a way of levelling people, of ignoring presumptions and doing things on its own terms. It forces eyes to open and view the world differently, to see beauty in the smallest things and appreciate what you have, not what you lack. In doing so, it presents a greater challenge than many are ever likely to face, but with it rewards that are everlasting and profound.

Survive the culture shock, and you’ll discover an enthralling part of the world that is impossible not to love.

First and foremost it was great to hear Nikesh define himself as a writer and to be so passionate about his craft.

It struck me just how important it is to believe in what you do and in what you write.

We can all be pigeon-holed in some way (in this instance, as an ‘ethnic writer’), but who is to say that we have to accept this label or indeed conform to it?

In his talk, Nikesh Shukla spoke to us about how, because publishers are interested in numbers and selling potential, it is essential that you, as a writer, know how you want to sell your writing. As a writer you also have to be your own promoter and willing to work on your own marketing too. You have to be able to talk about what you have written and what the audience will get from it.

Of course, as a writer you want your writing to have a wider appeal and you strive to get your work published. The publishing deal is the ultimate aim, but as Nikesh Shukla said, it is important to find ways of raising your own profile and raising awareness about what it is that you do. This is where social networking could prove very useful. Maybe you could host an event to showcase your own work in some way? Or find your own ways of self-promotion?

As a writer, validation from sources outside of your own family and friends (even though that is a lovely thing too!) is important in order to help you realise that your writing can have a wider appeal.

So it seems that to all those aspiring writers out there, the message is ‘keep going’!

Persevere with what you WANT to write, as Nikesh Shukla said yesterday, “as long as the piece is well-written, there WILL be an audience for what you have written”.

Happy writing!