I thought I would devote a blog post or two to the workshops I'm currently teaching, as they demonstrate remarkably well some of the differences between western contemporary dance and Cambodian classical dance. They may be both called 'dance' but are as different from each other as night and day, but not only in how they look, but how they are taught, the genesis of the movement, the history, etc, etc.
First of all, it must be said that Cambodian culture is based around tradition and honoring the past traditions, especially in the arts. Masters teach, and students learn. It is based on imitation, as the students are judged on how perfectly they represent the steps. There is no room in Cambodian classical dance for innovation; the steps are the way they are since they were created, and personal interpretation is not something that exists. The subjects are equally set; each dance tells a certain story. New stories are not a thing one does. .
So keeping all of that in mind, imagine a group of young teenage Khmer students, being now told to create their own movement.
You'd be out of your element too, wouldn't you?
And yet, that is exactly what I am proposing to my students, in my current three week workshop directed towards making an original solo. I do not tell anyone what movement to do. We started with making shapes -- that do not move, and have been working slowly towards stringing them together with movement.
The very concept of making a 'shape' -- essentially a pose, but carefully chosen -- is foreign to them, and it took at least a couple days until they figured out what I meant. Very tentatively, or with great fervor, depending on the student, they set about putting their bodies in positions, often drawing on Cambodian classical forms.
With that little success in hand, we then embarked on drawing inspiration from pictures. Drawing from my grand collection of postcards and pictures, I asked them to make shapes based on what they saw -- yet another thing that you simply do not do here. They took it somewhat literally, often imitating the pictures or the shapes -- and who could blame them? They don't look at a picture of a building and think to make a square with their arm, they look at it and wonder what to do with it. I asked them to just take inspiration from the energy of the picture, and got a whole lot of blank looks. Oops.
In addition to the problems of understanding the concepts - and what, really, a concept even is -- one of the things I had wanted to stress was discussion, so that everyone helps each other with their work, watches, and makes comments. I found out very, very quickly that this was going nowhere, as they just do not know how to talk about dance.
And again, who could blame them? You don't talk about Cambodian classical dance. You imitate, and you perform it precisely as it should be. It's not just that they're looking at completely alien movements, but then to try and say something about it, what 'works'-- what works, in fact, is a complete nonsequiteur for them. It is a concept that quite simply does not exist, and would require a whole lot of time and explaining from me if I was going to try and introduce it.
With all of this -- some of which I was anticipating, some I wasn't -- I admit to being heartily glad for the weekend at the end of the first week. In addition to the added energy and effort to make myself understood, through a translator and asking them to do things they have never, ever, done before, there is the more frustrating matter that I never have any idea who is going to show up on any given day.
The idea that a workshop means every day is important just doesn't register, though I suspect that has more to do with their age than their culture. Being on time is another tricky concept, though that's sort of a nationwide issue as far as I can tell. In any case, every day there is always someone who hasn't been there the day before, or for several days, or just comes at the start of the second week as the case was today, so I'm always scrambling to figure out what to do with them, or what to do with my regulars while I catch the newcomers up.
Thankfully, I have one student who really gets what is going on and what I'm doing, and works with everyone else, which is fantastic.
Going into the weekend, the kids had blazed through all of the assignments I had laid out for two weeks, meaning I was going to have to redesign the syllabus for the second week. 'Exploring further' is not something they understand; so far as they are concerned, if they do the assignment, they're done. To them it makes perfect sense; in classical dance, you certainly don't go back and play with the movement, see what's better, what works, what other ways you can do something. How do I explain that a dance is never 'done', that it can be workshopped and workshopped ad infinitum?
Heading to the second week, then, I admit to wondering if anyone would come back, having lost -- I thought -- at least half the class, a good deal of people missing an important session on Friday. Or if the newness was just too much and I was too alien, asking them to do too alien things.
Well, consider me surprised, and pleased. (to be continued)
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