Bharata Natyam, an age-old art form from India, graces the CounterPULSE stage in September. Paying a tribute in memory of the victims world wide of 9/11, Priyanjali Dance will celebrate life using colorful traditional pieces and contemporary work titled Navarasas.  Through these Navarasas (nine emotions), the dancers hope to share and explore the human condition.

Priyanjali Dance,  a San Francisco-based dance company, will consist of seven dancers from varying levels, backgrounds and teachers.  All dancers continue working together in San Francisco under the umbrella of Priyanjali Dance Company.

Meet our dancers.

Priya Ravindhran, Artistic Director of Priyanjali Dance

Priya Ravindhran began learning Bharata Natyam with her sister, Subha, from the age of 5 from various teachers across the US: Asha Gopal, Jyothi Raghavan, and Bana Ramanath to name a few. She was exposed to the Dhananjayans and the gurukulam method of teaching through her teacher, Bana Ramanath, who also conducted her arangetram in 1993. In 1994, Priya joined Kala Vandana Dance Center in San Jose, California as a company dancer and teacher, under the artistic direction of Sundara Swaminathan. Since her arangetram, Priya has spent several summers at Bharata Kalanjali, the Dhananjayan’s school in Chennai, India to train intensively, including 6 months post college.

Priya is no stranger to performance. Having performed in several company productions, Priya gave several full-length recitals both in the US and India – touring the Bay Area, Los Angeles, Tuscon, Dallas, San Antonio, and Chennai. She has participated in the San Francisco Ethnic Dance Festival 3 times in 1995-1997. Priya has introduced her original choreography in her self-produced recitals: Anubhava, Environmental Consciousness, and the upcoming Navarasas for World Peace.

Priya began Priyanjali Dance School in early 2007 to provide opportunity for dancers looking to keep up with their training as well as introduce Bharata Natyam to beginners and the young professional community in San Francisco. In 2010, Priya received her first grant from the Zellerbach Family Foundation. Through her affiliation with Dancers Group, a San Francisco-based nonprofit organization that supports the dance community, and other various organizations in San Francisco, Priya continues to seek out opportunities to use Bharata Natyam as a vehicle to talk about everyday events. Priya’s dedication to this art inspires her to keep the ancient dance form traditional while applying a thematic context that is contemporary yet timeless. She is grateful to all her teachers, and through their blessings, she continues performing and teaching.

Subha Chudgar, Company Dancer

Subha Chudgar began learning Bharata Natyam with her sister, Priya, at a very young age from Asha Gopal, Jyothi Raghavan, and Bana Ramanath. She was exposed to the Dhananjayans and the gurukulam method of teaching through her teacher, Bana Ramanath, who also conducted her arangetram in 1993. In 1994, Subha joined Kala Vandana Dance Center in San Jose, California as a company dancer and teacher, under the artistic direction of Sundara Swaminathan.

Subha has spent many years cultivating her artisitc talents by summer long visits to Bharata Kalanjali in Chennai, India.  Additionally, she has given full-length rectals touring the Bay Area, Los Angeles, Tuscon, Dallas, San Antonio, and Chennai.

Subha has performed in several company performances with Kala Vandana Dance Company, including the San Francisco Ethnic Dance festival 1995-1997. Subha has performed in several Priyanjali Dance Productions and has co-choreographed the production, “Environmental Conciousness.” Most recently, Subha also participates in Shakti Dance Company productions under the artistic direction of Viji Prakash in Los Angeles.

Usha Desiraju, Student & Company Dancer

Usha Desiraju began learning Bharata Natyam early in her youth under the guidance of Asha Gopal in Phoenix, Arizona. Her dedication to the art ramped up her training within a few years to complete her arangetram in 1999.  She has participated in numerous productions in Arizona before and after her arangetram.

Usha moved to the Bay Area and joined Mythili Kumar’s Dance School, Abhinaya School of Dance, and has participated in productions in the South Bay Area.

Usha joined the  Priyanjali Dance in San Francisco to expand her repertoire and training.   Since  2007, Usha has performed in several Priyanjali Dance events and productions including Durga Puja at the Livermore Temple 2007,  Arts for Literacy in 2009, and Vijay Dhashmi 2009.

Vidya Sundaram, Company Dancer

Vidya Sundaram has been dancing since she was a little girl growing up in the east bay. She is extremely grateful for the support of her gurus, KP and Katherine Kunhiraman, who conducted her arangetram in 1994. She has since taught at Kala Vandana Dance Center, under the artistic direction of Sundara Swaminathan, and recently received advanced training from KP Yesodha in Chennai, India.

Vidya has performed in several solo and group productions both in the Bay Area and India.  Vidya has also participated in the San Francisco Ethnic Dance Festival in 1997.  Most recently, Vidya produced and choreographed a solo performance in tribute to Shri G.N. Balasubramaniam in July 2010. She continues to expand her technique training and repertoire at Priyanjali Dance.

In addition to dancing, Vidya enjoys acting on stage and in film and currently serves on the board of directors for CounterPULSE.

Shruti Iyer, Student

Shruti began learning Bharata Natyam in Houston, Texas under the guidance of Rathna Kumar from the ages of 7 to 9.  She has since re-started her training with the Priyanjali Dance School in Spring 2009.  Shruti is incredibly dedicated to Indian art forms, and spends time learning not just the technique, but the history and theory as well.  She most recently performed at a concert for Vijay Dhashmi in 2009.

In addition to Bharata Natyam, Shruti trains at Pandit Chitresh Das’ Chhandam School of Kathak, based in San Francisco. She is also a classically trained Carnatic (South Indian Classical) violinist. She trained under Lalgudi G.J.R. Krishnan and Vittal Ramamurthy, disciples of veteran violinist, Lalgudi Sri G. Jayaraman. Shruti has performed as a solo violinist and as an accompanist, including performing in orchestras for Bharata Natyam productions.

Aishwarya Venkatesan, Student

Aishwarya Venkatesan is new to Bharata Natyam.   She has been with Priyanjali Dance School since spring of 2009, under the tutelage of Priya Ravindhran.  Since then Aishwarya has participated in National Dance Week 2009.  She most recently performed at a concert for Vijay Dhashmi 2009.

Aishwarya’s  interests in Indian Classical arts include the Veena, a musical instrument, which she learnt to play from her mother, Chitra Venkatesan.

Aishwarya has been an avid dance student all her life, and has enjoyed exploring other dance forms such as Jazz and Hip Hop.

Nidhi Solanki, Student

Nidhi Solanki began learning Bharata Natyam at a young age of six and practiced this art form for 11 years at Kala Vanadana Dance Center and Natyanjali School of Dance in the Bay Area.

Nidhi has performed in several group productions. After a 3 year hiatus when Nidhi was in Germany to continue her education, she recently joined Priyanjali Dance School and Company to expand her training and repertoire.

Nidhi is also currently learning Sitar under the guidance of Ustad Surinder Mann in Sunnyvale.

I am not actually Rapid Descent. I am Leah, friend of Rapid Descent, fellow theater-maker and guest blogger. These are my brief thoughts and observations on Skin Tight.

Living is a messy business – beautiful, lyrical, heart-breaking, bone-crushing. It is my experience that the suffering any of us endures in life comes when we function under the fallacious belief that we’re in control. That’s the moment when, as Julia Sweeney once coined it, “God said hah!” The truth is that life lives us, and the best we can do is to flow with it. This is grace, and the ways we resist and give in to this grace becomes the 2-step of our lives.

Skin Tight is wrought with this beauty. It is a magnificent, rowdy, quiet exploration of the enduring stillness around our lives, and the frantic activity inside of it. In each rehearsal and performance that I’ve seen of this show, I walk away both crushed and invigorated by the simple, human, immediacy of the experience.

I see a sensuous, tactile, physical experience, an actual embodiment of what it is to live. This is part of what makes Rapid Descent’s work stand out for me. The tangible, directed physicalization of Elizabeth and Tom, of how the actors literally move into, over and away from each other is, independent of the script, a story of living. The moments this physicalization takes over are the moments that most break my heart and enliven my sense of living as I watch.

There is a trumpeter – a participating witness – who plays off of Elizabeth and Tom, who comments, watches, listens with his music, rolling sound over the arcs and valleys of these specific hours at this specific time in these specific lives. He is the air around the couple, his notes are the stillness blowing a breeze through each of the seamlessly intertwined scenes they are living.

And then there is Elizabeth and Tom. Intimate. Connected. Vulnerable. Fiery. Living in a world that centers around their own lives. In command of lives they have no control over. The relationship between these two, the simplicity with which this production allows them to breathe, reminds me of the phrase on my parent’s tombstone. “Love endures.” And it does, so profoundly, between these two people. And again, it is the intense physicalization that marks Rapid Descent that most articulates this dynamic. And again, this physicalization becomes an articulation of what it is to live, independent of the story or the words. The sex scene at the end of the play – wordless, raw, graceful and unsentimentally sincere – allows Elizabeth and Tom to give over to and pass through the pain life is serving up by releasing to their bodies. In that physical exit Elizabeth finds grace and Tom… Tom lets life live him. And Rapid Descent, it watches as movement and sound, bodies and emotion blend to create a 2-step of 2 lives.

“Elizabeth, we’re not perfect. We’re mortal. We struggle and we do what we can. And it’s enough.”

“I have to go…. Tom, I remember everything.”

The days seep into days. Melancholy layers moments of humor. Bodies roll, connect, push and move. Music sweeps over it all. My heart breaks.

In the end we have only what we have.

The world is falling apart.

Driven by illusive philosophies, men and women inflict harm upon one another.  They destroy fields and forests that give them life; they kill and rape to own land and water.  And in their cities they stuff their mouths with a gluttonous rage — only to grow evermore sick and evermore hungry of course.

Seeing this sadness and unhealth, the Gods began to grow anxious.  They asked amongst themselves, “How do we give people the opportunity to know truth in a world of money, to experience transcendence in a place where immorality and prejudice is written into law?”  They decide to approach Lord Brahma — he who is Creator of the Universe, he in whose hands are the Vedas — and come to the conclusion that human beings shall be equipped with the power of the arts.  With these divine tools, they shall know heaven on earth and live reality with each breath.

Lord Brahma compiled this sacred knowledge into a text and appeared before a lone hermit.  “Bharata Muni, man of devotion, he who withdraws from suffering!  Study this sacred manuscript that was born in the palaces of heaven.  In its service you shall find true life!”

Bharata Muni began to verse himself in the secrets of art and theater.  He shared his knowledge with his one hundred sons, training intensively for their first performance.  Seeing this noble devotion, the Gods sent the dancers and musicians of heaven to impart their secrets upon Bharata Muni.  They shared with their human counterparts the sacred musical scales that inspired a celestial peace; they taught the men how to transform themselves into women through costume and movement.

When that fated day of the first performance came, Bharata Muni found that all of the Gods and Demons had come to witness it.  He and his ensemble performed a drama that illustrated the Gods’ triumph over the Demons — truth over illusion, good over evil, love over hate.  The Demons became enraged and immediately began to voice their anger.  They threatened to kill Bharata Muni and whatever mortal dared wield this weapon against them.  Fearful for the life of his students, Bharata Muni prayed to Lord Brahma for his protection, who in turn, gave the man knowledge of rituals to be performed on stage that would ensure his safety.

Thus begins the origin of art and theater in the human world.

Sompeah Kru at the Khmer Arts Theater in Takhmao, Cambodia.  The bearded mask directly in front of the man in white is that of Lok Ta Maha Eisey; note the four-faced (you can only see two from this angle) representation of Preah Prum or Lord Brahma at the top of his headdress.  Photo: John Shapiro.

I wanted to begin this year of Performing Diaspora with an invocation to Bharata Muni, or as we know him in Khmer, Lok Ta Maha Eisey [Grandfather, the Great Ascetic].  It is believed that all knowledge of the arts emanate from this powerful being; he is the ultimate teacher spirit in Cambodian classical dance.  Through the loving and molding hands of my teachers, like the hands of their teachers and those before, I am in Lok Ta’s lineage of thinkers and makers, activists and visionaries.  It is in his service and our heaven-sent task of inspiring truth and transcendence to which I devote my life and artistic practice.

I originally encountered the story of the origin of theater in Rene Daumal’s Rasa, or Knowledge of the Self and it has since then inspired my way of approaching artmaking.  After reading it, I realized my duty as an artist in helping to create a world of harmony and well-being; it reveals the political nature of the theater since its inception.  The story ends with Bharata Muni being equipped with the rituals that will keep him safe from harm, rendering the theater as a space to safely share and discuss the ideas, images, and histories that are difficult to approach elsewhere.

For Performing Diaspora, I will be presenting two works from my in-progress Robam Snaih Buon [Dance of Four Loves].  A suite of four short dance works, its uses the human experience of love and Hindu-Buddhist ideas of reincarnation to navigate the terrain between form and spirit, sex and gender while exploring different aesthetic and social spaces and possibilities.

Robam Santhyea Vehea [Dance of Twilight Sky], which opens up the narrative, faithfully employs Cambodian classical dance’s aesthetic and technique, music and costume to depict a homosexual relationship between two divine men.  They profess their love for one another; they swear to the clarity of their hearts and marry one another before a liminal twilight sky. Robam Lom Arom [Dance of Emotions’ Caress] follows this euphoric image, depicting a woman named Neang Sovann Atmani who waits by the river at night for the return of her absent husband.  She is consumed by her memory of him and succumbs to the phantom weight of its caress in an interdisciplinary world of love and longing, revived outdated traditions and reinterpretations of contemporary practices.

A self-portrait in my old home in Hollywood, half-dressed in a costume for Robam Santhyea Vehea.  Photo: Prumsodun Ok.

In Robam Santhyea Vehea, I elevate the experience of homosexual men into the mytho-poetic ritual space in which Cambodian classical dance is set.  The dance is performed by two women playing nearong [male] roles as is the tradition.  They wear costumes that are physical and visual manifestations of harmony and order — flower motifs that reference mandala that create the overall appearance of snake scales (whose movements invoke the life-giving qualities of water) — thereby suggesting the noble love between two men or two women as being nothing less than harmonious with and in line with divine order.  The teacher spirits serve as witnesses to the marriage of these characters and the history they represent; I wouldn’t be here if they disapproved.

Robam Lom Arom, which was originally commissioned by Performing Diaspora last year, breaks away from Cambodian classical dance’s conventions.  Movements are exaggerated to mirror the way things become filtered and exploded in memory; the outdated practice of painting the body white is used as a gesture of historical empowerment, ritual transformation, and reinterprets the human body as a canvas for video projection.  The unisex elements of Cambodian regalia are removed to leave a spare body and the gendered melodies of the pin peat orchestra are replaced for sound.  Although a woman longing for her husband may seem tame as a subject, some in a Cambodian and Buddhist context may consider it as “taboo”.  As my teacher suggested, “Well, some people would say, ‘What kind of woman is that?  Can’t even control her emotions.’”  The oppressive social expectation for women builds itself below and around this dance: a dance where love lingers between bodies once present and physical and in contact that are now absent and disconnected and psychological.

Both of these dances offer challenges to contemporary Cambodian classical dance and performance.  They explore and expand upon the form’s expressive possibilities, drawing upon already established ideas to depict subjects that are difficult for others to discuss.  For example, when asking a dancer if she would perform Robam Santhyea Vehea with me, she disappointed me with a vague refusal.  And after watching a performance of Robam Lom Arom, an arts administrator from Cambodia said to me, “Prum, that was really good.  Don’t show it to anyone else though.”

Performing Robam Lom Arom at CounterPULSE in November 2009.  Video Still: Loren R. Robertson.

As an emerging choreographer, I could not be in a more difficult space.  I have received much funding and support for my work here in California but I have not had the chance to share it in the same capacity for Cambodian artists and Cambodians who — when thinking about the development of the art form — are perhaps the people who need to see it most.  The artists that have seen my work recognize the references that I am making, the choreographic innovations I introduce, and the value of my work and voice as an artist and thinker within the tradition.  But they all suggest that I keep it hush-hush for my own safety.

Will I be censored if I present my work in Cambodia?  Will I be blacklisted?  Will the administrative powers in Cambodia make like the demons in the story of the origin of theater and attempt to suppress my voice?  Who knows.  What comes to mind is the voice of my teacher, so loving and supportive, “You haven’t had any tomatoes thrown at you yet.  Why are you scared?”

Equipped with the story of the origin of theater, empowered by the love of my fellow artists in both Cambodia and United States, I join Performing Diaspora once more ready to share my artistry and history.  I seek not to create work for stirring controversy but, rather, for the sake of creating a right and just society in line with a divine order.  It could not be a more timely moment in California to depict two men marrying one another on the stage; it is my duty to share this alternative philosophy and vision of health and harmony.  I am grateful to CounterPULSE and the Performing Diaspora team for giving me this opportunity and pay my respects to them for upholding the purpose and function of the theater since its inception.

A Choreographical Investigation

I am currently deep in the process of creating the piece to be performed in October. As I do this, I think about what my intentions are, what I want to convey, and what I use to embody (a good word for a choreographer) those intentions. Intentions exist on the level of creating and exploring themes, such as for this piece, the relationship between dancers and food. Intentions also exist on the level of wanting to create a certain aesthetic experience.

In some of the pieces that I have created, I use chairs as an element with which the dancers play.  Once, when I showed such a piece in a workshop and I was challenged. “Why do you have a chair in your choreography? What’s the meaning? Every element of your choreography must have meaning. If it does not have meaning, it should not be included. You should be able to explain the chair’s place in your choreography.” On first glance, this seemed like a reasonable prescription. After all, random elements thrown in are not likely to result in powerful choreography. The fact is, though, I didn’t choose to use a chair because of any meaning that could be articulated in words. I chose to use the chair because I just had knee surgery and couldn’t bend my left knee as deeply as I normally would. The chair – a rolling chair – helped me move and provided stability. That explanation deeply disappointed my questioner.

This has troubled me a long time and, perhaps the answer is obvious, and, now that I’m thinking about dance and food, an analogy has come to me. While food can be an artistic expression, no one asks a chef, what is the meaning of tarragon in your sauce? To come up with a meaning would do violence to the aesthetic experience and supplant it with a semantic structure that is rather nonsensical. The tomatoes represent Christ’s blood that was shed for us, the onions the tears that Mary cried, the tarragon the wooden cross, etc., etc. etc….

Another way to think about this is that it seems to me that my questioner was asserting that language should be able to explain what the meaning of an element in a dance work is, and, that there is an aesthetic implied by the assertion. Moreover, this aesthetic works to the detriment of other possible types of aesthetics. I want to be clear here, because I think much of the issue has to do with a particular understanding of language. That is, what the assertion was implying was that language, as we commonly understand it – spoken or written, made up of words – is an important arbiter – maybe the arbiter of what dance should be. But then, why not just talk and forget about dancing?

I’m often asked what is the meaning of this hand gesture or that hand gesture of my dance. Presumably because of Indonesian dance has a lot of hand gestures (mudras) they think each hand gesture has a specific meaning. While perhaps it is true to some other world dance styles (e.g. Barathanatyam, Odisi, Hula), but in Indonesian dance depending on the choreography, hand gestures sometimes have specific meaning and sometimes they are simply used for the esthetic purposes. Javanese dance’s hand gestures have names, e.g. nylekenthing, nyempurit, ngruji, ngepel, ukel, etc., some have specific meanings, but some don’t (or the meaning is embedded on the meaning of the whole phrase, e.g. theme of sadness, joy, longing, etc). The question is, why we have to know about “meaning” in order to “enjoy” the dance?

I anticipate talking with many people about my upcoming performance and look forward to it. Undoubtedly in the questions will be what does this mean, or what does that mean? For some things, I will have definite answer. For other things, I may resort to the old trick of therapists everywhere and reply with a smile, “What does it mean to you?”

Sat., November 20, 2010
noon, $15-50 sliding scale to benefit Shaping SF

From the pre-urban history of Indian Slavery to the earliest 8-hour day movement in the U.S., the ebb and flow of class war is traced. SF’s radical working class organizations are shaped in part by racist complicity in genocide and slavery, but from the 1870s to the 1940s there are dozens of epic battles between owners and workers, culminating in the 1934 General Strike and its aftermath. This is an entirely different look, during a four hour bike tour, at San Francisco labor history.