Rote Movement

Here’s a new sample from my forthcoming book, Midnight at the Crossroads: Has belly dance sold its soul?

 

Rote Movement: Why it’s not your friend

How do we bring this ancient heart into modern times? The reality of the day is that we often perform on large stages in front of many people with recorded music. As teachers, we have students who want to dance within the security of a group. How do we reconcile these elements with a tradition of solo extemporaneous dance to live music?

The first thing is to step back from the focus on highly stylized, memorized, step combinations, away from rote movement and towards functional movement.

What is this Rote? Rote means “mechanical or habitual repetition of something to be learned.” Rote learning is flashcards, times tables, any kind of memorization-based learning. Rote movement applies to activities we do in a mechanical, repetitive way. Running, for example. Or calisthenics. Or choreography. Six hip drops, turn left on seven and and pose on eight. Great. Why are you doing that? Because the teacher said to. Huh?

The purpose of rote learning Rote learning can really stick in the brain—my mother, with fairly severe dementia, can still recite from memory most of the poem Jabberwocky. We remember what letter comes next in the alphabet by singing the alphabet song. We know how many days in a month by reciting 30 Days Hath November, and we can do simple calculations quickly because we have drilled them, over and over in grade school. We don’t have to think and discover, we can just remember, because we repeated it so many times in the past.

What’s wrong with that? For many things, like the times tables, or French verb conjugation, rote learning is perfect. For others, it is not. In Bloom’s Taxonomy of Learning, memorization is the lowest level of knowledge. But it’s not the memorization factor that is the problem. We all have stuff we need to know. It’s the mindless, mechanical aspect that is the problem.

When we do things in real life, those movements have a purpose. They are functional. We open doors, pour coffee, etc. But when we run for exercise, or do calisthenics, there is no real, immediate function to those movements. We are doing them because of some abstract goal. We can run on a treadmill with our earphones in while watching TV. This is the poster child for rote movement. This is mindless repetition to the max.

Look, actors need to know their lines. But those lines have a function—they drive the plot forward, they reveal character. If the actors do not understand the meaning of their lines, and embody that meaning with every fibre of their being, who’s going to watch them? By the same token, dancers need to know their choreography—but if there is no purpose to the movement, it’s just a lot of meaningless flailing.

The problem with rote teaching of choreography is that much of the time, the dancers have no reason to do any of the things they are doing. They don’t always understand the connection of the movement to the music—in fact, there often isn’t much of one aside from the most obvious rhythmic connection by which they count. Even so, most student dancers of belly dance can be seen counting their steps as they dance alongside the music, while trying to remember which step comes next.

Over-drilling, over-stylization, removing the motivation of the music from the move, these are how we lose the feeling. These are how we hide from the joy of dance. Making the body do stuff is just another layer of control, a way to keep ourselves from feeling. Stylization is control. Repetition is control. All of these are intellectual pursuits that prevent the body from directly experiencing and responding to the music.

Besides, mindless repetition is how we get hurt. RSI, anyone? Carpal tunnel? Doing things past when the body starts to complain, over-practicing moves that in performance would only be done one or twice, can cause series damage to the body. Most classical dancers are not in touch with their bodies—they are in control of them. They make their bodies do things that normal bodies would not do. Utter control, practicing until the toes bleed, that is success? Not in my book.

In the martial arts, you rarely see students aimlessly stumbling through their katas. No, because katas are the epitome of functional movement. You are blocking someone here, punching another person there, kicking someone else through the door in the next move. There is purpose in every step, every moment. We dance teachers need to build this level of involvement into our student dances.

Create characters, backstories, motivations for the action of your dances. Tie each move inextricably to the music. Articulate the connection. Sing the steps to the tune of the song. Give your students multiple mnemonics to make the dances easier to remember, more memorable to watch. Engaged dancers who believe their stories, create heart-rending beauty on stage.

Give us more than a pretty container.

Give us heart and soul.

Give us art.

Check out the Kickstarter for Alia’s book,  Midnight at the Crossroads: Has Belly Dance Sold it’s Soul?

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2 Comments

  1. Total agreement here too! “Twas brillig and the slithy roves …”
    Much love,
    Aunt Rocky


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