Field research – what it means
In culturally-significant work, I feel field research vital because it is not only the Art that is relevant ~ it is the cultural context of the Work that is significant.
Also for me, Guinea
In my work, peace-building is the underlying current. That can mean international friendships, or it can mean helping someone find peace with themselves by being “in their body” with awareness.
Cultural understanding teaches us about Humanity ~ we can appreciate how similar we are globally, in spite of so many differences.
The truest expression of a people is in its dance
and in its music. Bodies never lie.
~Agnes de Mille
Sharing it – what it means
Like Guineans, I believe that dance is for every body. Whether defying gravity in a skilled leap, or moving arms from the confines of a wheel chair, dance brings joy, peace, health, and wellbeing.
In Guinea
Guinean dance meets you where you are at, and through that, allows you to be where you want to be.
Sharing these dances and traditions therefore provides so much joy to me, and to students, audience, and performers…
It is dynamic, high-energy, and interactive. And, following my deeper thread, builds peace through cultural understanding. Audiences and students learn experientially what this movement represents: community, transformation, and self-expression.
-relationship b/w music & dance
-b/w dancer & musician
Authentic / traditional – commitment to traditions in something dynamic
Guinean dance represents all the gifts that dance can offer to a community: connections, history, communication, and sharing of joy, energy and creativity. It is a gift that I wish for Canadian Culture: for dance to be part of everyday life, rather than something segregated for “dancers” or for after “a few” on the dance floor.
Of course, the dance evolves with the dancer, but I define traditional around the fact that these rhythms and dances have been replicated for centuries. Kuku is said to be 2000 years old. I believe there is a deep thread in that - - it is in our cellular memory, our ancestral memory. And that’s enough for me. I don’t feel the need to question whether or not an anthropological sense of tradition exists.
After all, one of the deliberate functions of West African dance is to preserve and pass on History. The story is always added to, but the origins still exist, and create the foundation. The Griot families (oral-historians who sing and dance stories of the past) are the most obvious example of this, but all Guinean artists contribute to this body of knowing.
The question of authenticity comes up over and over. The misnomer of “the African dance teacher” as opposed to the “African-Dance teacher” continues to plague me after all these years (20 now of studying West African dance) when my white skin surprises people expecting a darker hue. How absurd that seems, yet it is reinforced by me in a sense, as I seek a degree of cultural authenticity in my work.
As an instructor and performer, I shy away from fusion work. I feel have an obligation to pass on the teachings as they have been shared with me. Partly because I’m an “outsider”. Partly because I value these traditions so much, and want ensure they are preserved for generations to come, in Guinea
Preserving culture is still dynamic: it is not about saving ashes, so much as spreading fire. I feel that out of respect for my teachers, and my lineage of teachers stretching back through time, that I have a commitment to sharing these in the way they have been shared with me. Engaging in the depths and layers of this Dance to the degree that I do involves an inherent respect for the people of this culture, and for their History and Future.
As an artist I seek to combine these two facets: that unity and diversity can exist simultaneously. That we do not have to endlessly blend cultures in order to be unified as Humanity. In fact, the more we honour diversity and “traditions”, the more we appreciate the oneness of all peoples.
I feel Art is pre-existing throughout time and the artist is a channel for that energy. Working with dance that has existed through so many generations reaffirms that feeling.
Even the International time-zones contribute to that affirmation: right now, someone somewhere in the World is playing Kuku. We are not creating the rhythm or dance when we engage in it, but rather joining it.
That being said, as I seek expanding creative outlets, it seems natural that I would incorporate West African elements into my Dance, as I do in other facets of my life. I am not opposed to fusion; I think it has an important role to play in our evolving global village. Only that right now, my work is in the realm of preservation.
Mohamed’s contributions to MD
Along with the enormous skill and body of knowledge that Mohamed brings to MoonDance, Mohamed has allowed me to give more credibility to my own work as an artist of West African dance. He, as with many of my Guinean colleagues, sees no problem in the fact that I am Canadian, and not Guinean. Having the skills and the respect for the Dance is what matters.
MoonDance specializes in culturally-significant dance, and we have many wonderful instructors committed to sharing dance and culture in a vernacular way (as in for all people, not only “dancers”).
Mohamed also sees relationship building as central to the role of the Arts, and in conjunction with MoonDance is establishing a sense of community and friendship built around West African Dance.
Why fly across the world
So why fly to the other side of the World to dance?
Especially when there are Guineans near by to study with, often among the best in their field ~ that’s what allowed them to get to North America .
Especially when the man sitting next to you on the plane is in hand cuffs, being deported. Crying “Aidez moi! Aidez moi!” Desperate not to go to the place I paid thousands of dollars to travel to.
Especially when it is so hot, and the realities of extreme poverty surround you.
Aspects of it I think are true for travel in general:
Stepping out of the reality of known into the shadows of what I may never know, even about myself, I return an unfamiliar person, as if in some sense I never return at all, but remain unsettled by what I have experienced.
This, I think, is a gift of new perception. As Pico Iyer says, “Confronted by the foreign, we grow newly attentive to the details of the World, even as we make out, sometimes, the larger outline that lies behind them”.
I think that much of what West African dance is is because of the hardships faced by Guineans. It is a coping mechanism - - a way to express joy in spite of adversity. We see the Light more brightly in contrast to the Dark.
© Lynn Weaver, 2009.
