Fame or Famine

"I hear that there’s going to be some kind of Indian classical dance going on soon!" my friend said as she passed the table where I was watching a hilarious comedian named Mr. Big deliver a tremendously NSFW routine. I hurried out to watch them: Archana Kumar and her troupe were about to perform.

The were dressed in traditional (I found out later) Indian costume – not the extravagant and intricate beads and such, but simple loose pants, a small loose halter top on the women, with the men shirtless and small intricate medallions at their necks. The music was a classical Indian piece, and from the first stomp of the foot I remembered why I love Eastern forms of dance.

In a word, grounding. Don’t get me wrong; I love ballet. I love modern. It’s beautiful. But most Eastern forms accept the ground as a partner, not an opponent to be overcome, and this lends an entirely different feeling to the same sinuous movement of limbs that you might see in a Balanchine production. Among other things, there is more of a connection to the audience (and I don’t mean this simply because for the majority of the dance they were on a level floor with their audience).

They actually staged it so that they started the dance up a few levels of staircase, which worked very well to gain the attention of the attendees (this was an art opening, after all, not the most friendly of performance spaces). Once they started, though, it was riveting.

Kathak means "story", and the story they were telling that night drew from the traditions of the "Sun Temple" carvings, the kama sutra sculptures that have launched a thousand marital aid guides in the west. This is not to say that the dance was lewd – far from it. In spite of the beautifully developed musculature and plethora of bare skin both on the dancers and certainly in the surrounding artwork (and audience, come to think of it) Archana (pronounced with a ch, not a hard k sound) did not take the easy, crowd-pleasing way out.

Not that the crowd wasn’t pleased. In fact, I was rather disconcerted when the people next to me began ululating in appreciation. While appropriate in middle-eastern dance, I wasn’t sure that it would especially be welcomed by this form of dance. I’d certainly never seen it in the other Indian dances I’d experienced, such as baratnatiyam.

When I asked Archana about it, though, she took it in good humor. "It’s understandable," she laughed. "If you added a veil to our costume, it’s almost identical to middle eastern dance. However," she was quick to add, "it is not a usual part of kathak dance.

She explained that while the costumes were traditional, and the music drawn from the classical Indian body of music, the choreography was her own. She used the movement vocabulary of the kathak style of dance along with the very strong martial movements of the Indian form of kaluripayattu. What this led to was an intense contrast in male/female forms – not to say soft vs. hard, because both elements were in all the dancers – the hard slap of a womans foot on the floor, or the flowing of the men’s shoulders as they moved their arms through the poses.

And what made it erotic was the connection that was evident between these two styles of movement. The dancers played with each other, eyes shining, smiles, the moves playful and breathtaking, with lifts worthy of any ballet and many moments of coming together-moving apart that suggested (rather than stated) the sensual subject of the dance.

One moment, in fact, I saw (because I was close) one of the male dancers holding Archana as she turned in towards him, and as her hair brushed his face, he closed his eyes, just for a moment – I may be projecting, but in that moment he seemed to me to be enjoying the dance for itself, not caring so much about the audience or thinking of what came next but simply dancing. Archana told me later, "I don’t use ‘professional’ dancers – I don’t really like that word. What I have are friends who are passionate about dance, and they come and perform with me."

I can’t help but think That’s the way it should be. Kind of like the subject matter: the kama sutra was never a "secret text"; the positions were carved on the side of a sacred temple, after all. "The kathak form comes from the start of temple dances," Archana explained. "The act of sex was considered a sacred attachment…it was ritual, and a part of everyday life." Then the British occupation came, and, well, things became much more "…conservative," she finished dryly, and I can’t help but think that she’d like to use stronger words to describe it.

Personally, I applaud the fact that events such as the Seattle Erotic Art Festival, and brave artists like Archana, are working to counter those attitudes. In our current climate, that’s not easy…so we should support them with our dollars, our attention, and our applause whenever we can.

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