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Showing posts with label Kathak. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kathak. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 21, 2020

Artists Reach Out: Brinda Guha

Dear friends,

Welcome to Artists Reach Out: reflections in a time of isolation. I dreamed this series of interviews out of grief for my work both as a documenting arts writer and curator of live performance. In this time of social distancing, we are called to responsibly do all we can to safeguard ourselves and our neighbors. It is, literally, a matter of life and death.

But there's no distancing around what we still can share with one another--our experiences, thoughts, wisdom, humor, hearts and spirit. In some ways, there are more opportunities to do so as we pull back from everyday busyness out in the world and have time to honor the call of our inner lives.

So, let me introduce you to some artists I find interesting. I'm glad they're part of our beautiful community, and I'm eager to engage with them again (or for the first time) in years to come.

--Eva Yaa Asantewaa, InfiniteBody


Brinda Guha



Brinda Guha
(photo courtesy of the artist)


Brinda Guha is a trained Indian Classical Kathak dancer for over 20 years and has traveled throughout USA and to India, England, and Spain to perform. During training and performing for years in classical Indian dance, as well as Flamenco and Contemporary Fusion styles, she opened Kalamandir Dance Company in 2010 and founded the rich movement coined as #ContemporaryIndian. Since then, Brinda choreographed for the North American Bengali Conference at Madison Square Garden and self-produced and choreographed her original dance production entitled one to(o) many colors. Now, she is represented by CESD Talent Agency and is pursuing artistic direction and arts education. She spent most of 2015/16 collaborating with NYC-based interdisciplinary artists. Brinda also dances with dynamic percussive trio Soles of Duende, featuring Flamenco (Arielle Rosales), Tap (Amanda Castro), and Kathak (Guha). Her ultimate dream of having art meet activism was realized when she created a seasonal benefit in 2017 for Planned Parenthood & survivors of domestic violence called WISE FRUIT. Wise Fruit NYC has implemented nine NYC live art installations and is expanding to a Nashville edition ("Wise Fruit 1.0: Plant the Seed" in 2020). For her day job, she works as an arts administrator for a dance service organization based in the values of justice, equity & inclusion: Dance/NYC.


Brinda Guha
(photos: above, LVDF;
below, Corey Rives)




Do you have a current or planned project whose progress is affected by the pandemic?

I think about how this industry wasn't designed to take care of us, truly --because there wasn't a contingency plan in place for us to consider what we deserved before we needed it. We wake up one morning, and our two-year project plan is shot?

Thank goodness for institutions that still support the artists financially during this kind of cancellation, but sheesh, what about the work? Why does our industry settle with the uncertainty of it all?

Rise and shine, your income is on hold until further notice, and here's the link to go help yourself. If you get sick...good thing you're in shape--your chances are pretty good! WHAT?! No, thanks. I'm merely mortal: I'd like some more reassurance than that.

Briefly, tell me about how you got involved in the arts and in your particular practice.

I am a classical and contemporary Indian dancer rooted in the vocabulary and aesthetics of Kathak dance. I have training in various additional practices, including Manipuri, Flamenco, Contemporary, and Urban movement.

My practice has evolved with me over the years. I find myself returning “home” with time. As of now, I am more in a space of celebrating the #femininedivine in movement, art and activism. Understanding how and where we can return to the world led by women or the feminine spirit that exists in us all (because it is where we came from) is important to me. I began my professional practice in New York City fresh out of undergraduate studies at New York University, but I have discovered new spaces of artistic expression over the last nine years. During this time, I've worked consistently in arts administration, education, performance, collaboration, curation, and freelance practices.

In a more specific way, what are you practicing? And what are you envisioning?

In the arts, I envision a future of compassion and empathy fostered for communities unseen, unheard and misunderstood. I envision a resilience so deep that we are able to decolonize ourselves. It starts with self, and so movement is a beautiful way to try.

How does your practice and your visioning align with what you most care about?

Today, I only have the love of movement, the love of my partner, the love of food and cooking, the gratitude for a part-time job that serves, and my vivid memories and reflections of what I was told about me vs. my truths (overlap included). I only have time to fester about it because the type-A personality I was told I had can’t find any short-term and immediate solutions, so my anxiety goes into full-throttle mode while she waits for an answer. I think about all my regrets and all my hopes at the same time but in a weird cycle that makes no chronological sense. Rinse and repeat.

Nevertheless, the ultimate irony is that movement is how we return home to check in, to see what's working and what isn't. It is how we journal. We were called to this work, to this practice, to this riyaaz, to this kind of meditation and creativity, for better or worse. It's how we process this confusion. It's how we arrive at the ultimate conclusion that all we have to do is to give into this moment so that we can be born again.

In times of isolation, I feel fear, anxiety, compassion, and so much [abundant] love--love for what I already have, and love for what I so clearly want moving forward.

How does your practice function within the world we have now?

As far as Indian dance goes--what am I supposed to do?! I'm always conflicted these days. So much of India is in shambles. It has become a political space of division and violence under the guise of secular superiority. It feels almost silly to pursue “Indian” dance or dive deeper into the origins of Hindu mythology when Hinduism is being used to kill each and every day in my parents' motherland.

But then I return to the #femininedivine in this practice:


  • Ma Kali had dark skin and a fearless tongue.


  • Ma Durga held the weight of the world in ten arms.


  • Hajar never forgot about what's best for her son.


  • surat al Nisa, the chapter on Women--the Qur'an's largest chapter--weaves together vignettes of feminine resilience. 


When we return home to the #femininedivine, our practice makes sense again. It's important to me now, in context of our political sphere, to consider my practice a part of the broader South Asian experience, and not the "Indian" experience. At least not right now. The unity and understanding among my fellow brown-skinned folks is far more important to me now than any religious connotations or personal familial anecdotes or political justifications.

In times of isolation, I reflect on my roots, and my longing for effective communication. How many of us women of color have been told who we are already? Part of it is true, so it's all quite confusing. "Your brother was this type, you were more this type". Actually, I wish I said, I was a few different things and so was he. But maybe it didn't fit into the box that made sense for you. Maybe the scope was too large to grasp, so we simplified it. Maybe in a white world that keeps telling you that you’re a visitor, we held onto those labels to merely have something to hold onto: as women, as brown, as queer, as an artist, as a musician, as displaced, as "eclectic," as "exotic," as "cultural," as...uh oh, the labels are back....

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DISCLAIMER: In addition to my work on InfiniteBody, I serve as Senior Curatorial Director of Gibney. The postings on this site are my own and do not necessarily reflect the views, strategies or opinions of Gibney.

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Friday, December 21, 2018

Soles of Duende asks Can We Dance Here? Please do!

Left-to-right: Amanda Castro, Arielle Rosales
and Brinda Guha of Soles of Duende
(photo: Spinkick Pictures)

Can We Dance Here?
Soles of Duende
Dixon Place
December 7-8, 14-15 and 20-21

I'm not sure I follow the progression of existence to seeking permission to gaining trust to arriving at freedom alluded to in program notes for Can We Dance Here? Something about the "Transtheoretical Stages of Change" as the underpinning of the story this new dance wants to tell. But while I'm not hip to all that, I do know the three grounded, skillful and vivacious dancers of Soles of Duende--Amanda Castro, Arielle Rosales and Brinda Guha, 2018 Artists in Residence at Dixon Place--make a compelling argument for the power of women and the joy of women making really big sound together. Six pounding feet rattled the floor beneath our chairs like a tremblor. Anyone placing their bar drinks on that floor surely risked a spill.

Supported by the live music of Anjna Swarminathan (violin), Frank Malloy IV (drum) and JADALAREIGN (DJ), Castro brings tap; Rosales, flamenco; Guha, Kathak, all with great conviction that these three percussive dance forms belong in conversation. Can We Dance Here? is the perfect package for that exchange of life force--no more than an hour in length, superbly focused in structure, its staging of trios, duos and solos tight as a drum.

I caught the next-to-last evening of a show that has been running on weekends since December 7. So, you have one more shot--tonight. Can We Dance Here? is an offbeat holiday-season treat, but a treat it is.

Can We Dance Here? runs at 7:30pm. For information and tickets, click here.

Dixon Place
171 Chrystie Street, Manhattan
(map/directions)

******

DISCLAIMER: In addition to my work on InfiniteBody, I serve as Senior Curatorial Director of Gibney. The postings on this site are my own and do not necessarily reflect the views, strategies or opinions of Gibney.

******

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Wednesday, July 15, 2015

Film review: Dean Hargrove's "Tap World"

New York-born tap star Jason Samuels Smith (left)
 and the late Kathak guru Pandit Chitresh Das forged an unexpected and electrifying
cross-cultural partnership, as noted in Dean Hargrove's new feature film, Tap World.
(photo courtesy of tapworldfilm.com)

Tap World's run at New York's Village East Cinema has been extended through next Thursday, July 23. Hooray, and let's talk about the important thing that this award-winning documentary from Tap Heat's Dean Hargrove does absolutely right.

No, Tap World does not offer an intellectual primer on tap history or tap technique or how hard tap dancers train, as the New York Times critic appears to have needed. It does allude to tap's origins in the African-Irish encounter in colonial America. And the mad skills necessary for its proper execution should be crystal clear to everybody--just try it--as should the discipline and loving dedication.

So if Hargrove's 72 minutes--largely derived from footage submitted by dancers from many nations--focus on how much joy, and soul healing, these dancers get from this art and how much joy they give, what of it?

Tap World does what the rest of U.S. dance could and should do. It shows why dance matters to this society and to our world. It reaches past the official arbiters of what's important about dance and instantly, solidly connects with the public. It moves people. Just like the best tap does.

"Rhythm is the language of life, the international language," says acclaimed dancer/actor Ted Louis Levy, one of numerous tap artists and teachers sharing thoughts and personal narratives here. "The simple things--rhythm and love--transcend difference," says Chloé Arnold, the dynamic performer and dancemaker who, along with sister Maud Arnold, is one of the film's producers. That philosophy informs the entire film. We're treated to a virtual world tour watching how this once uniquely American art form has enchanted and fulfilled dancers of one country after another--from France to Taiwan, from Brazil to India. Dancers the world 'round use tap to expand and express themselves.

Yet, as Kathak soloist Rachna Nivas lucidly explained in last evening's post-screening Q&A, tap remains itself, never blending in a "fusion" with other cultural forms. Hargrove includes a tantalizing sample of one such intercultural moment, an excerpt from a shared performance by two greats in their respective fields--Jason Samuels Smith and Nivas's teacher, Kathak guru Pandit Chitresh Das, who died this past January. When these two live wires connect, the energy will rock you right out of your seat.



See Tap World in New York City--now through July 23--
at Village East Cinema (directions).
Click here for times and tickets.

Now playing
at select theaters nationwide

Click here for scheduled screenings,
live performances and Q&As.

Watch for the DVD release this November.

Monday, March 31, 2008

Met Museum hosts classical music and dance of India

Wednesday, April 2, 3:30pm
The Astor Court
Metropolitan Museum of Art

Free with museum admission

Classical music and dance of India date back thousands of years yet continue to speak to audiences of today. The vibrant North Indian dance form known as Kathak is demonstrated by Parul Shah (dancer), Nitin Mitta (tabla), and Indrajit Roy-Chowdhury (sitar) who illustrate the dynamic rhythmic interactions between dance and drum through the use of vocal recitation.

Presented by the Department of Musical Instruments, this concert/demonstration will take place in the Astor Forecourt outside the Jain Temple.

Metropolitan Museum of Art
Fifth Avenue at 82nd Street, Manhattan

Saturday, June 9, 2007

A Postmodern Passage

(Editor's note: Recently, I was talking with dancer-choreographer Jill Sigman about some of her past and upcoming travels, and I invited her to send me some of her journaling. The following piece, written in 2005, is one of what I hope will be a series of reflections from this searching and provocative dance artist.)

(Author’s note: I wrote this short piece a day after I returned from India, early in 2005. I had wanted to record my initial impressions while still in that transition zone between there and here.)


A Postmodern Passage

by Jill Sigman, guest contributor

Still jetlagged and dreamlike, I am unpacking many things: a suitcase of brightly colored scarves, a mental album of arresting images, the convoluted body language of a stranger who is aware of being a stranger, and a gnawing sense of my own cultural specificity. I open my closet and rediscover the blue suede jacket and red cowboy boots of the “real” me, the post-Godard underpinnings of androgynous femininity, and a strong conviction that the avant-garde isn’t just half-baked classicism after all. I am home.

I am a choreographer and performer, a person whose life and expression revolve around movement, and I visited India as a physical tourist. I wanted to encounter the physical experiences and dance forms of a radically different culture, to alight in a new physicality and allow that experience to trickle into my movement language and improvisational process. As an invited guest of the Kri Foundation in New Delhi, I had the good fortune to sample Kathak and Bharat Natyam, engage in artistic dialogue and studio exploration with Bharat Natyam dancer Rama Vaidyanathan, perform at the American Center as a guest of the American Embassy, lecture on my work at the India Habitat Centre, and meet many wonderful artists, arts administrators, and cultural consumers.

It will take time to unpack such a packed five weeks, to discover how all the sights and sounds and unfamiliar movements will find their way into my choreographic work. But what struck me most about this postmodern passage is not what anyone expected to strike me, or presented to me as cultural offering. I was amazed by the theatricality of ordinary life— the Christmas lights blinking on three different tempos in a dimly lit Hindu temple, the Khajal-rimmed eyes of babies in starched lace bonnets and boys’ trousers, the street theater of tourist-trade holy men, the heightened reality of poojas and wedding processions…

I am fascinated by the superposition of performance and reality, the ways we are simultaneously performing and also “really there”, and how sometimes in moments of performance epiphany we choose to reveal that duality to our viewers. I was most recently reminded of this when I was injured a week before Pulling the Wool and proceeded to perform for two weekends on crutches. The crutches became a prop, an icon, a sinister device for underlining themes that were already present in my work. But they were also real; I couldn’t walk without them. And I was glad to share that duality with my viewers—to exist together in a charged space sharing that multi-layered awareness.

In India I saw performance everywhere: in the men singing “Chai—Chai Chai” up and down the aisles of the train; in the women in black crossing the open plaza of Agra’s Jami Masjid mosque; in the rowboats on the Ganga that reminded me of my own site-specific performance on Brooklyn’s Gowanus Canal; and in the postmodern improvisations of entering and exiting, movement and stillness, of Hindu temple-goers.

I was looking through a different lens, and I was aware of how specific my lens was to what I am. I am an American, a New Yorker, a woman, an inheritor of 60’s ideals and experiments, a choreographer, a philosopher, an activist. I see structured movement improvisation in people visiting temples. I see a theater set in Jaipur’s Jantar Mantar astronomical observatory. I see sculptural installations in piles of vermillion. I see gender-bending cross-dressing in the outfits of kohl-eyed children. And I see the World Trade Center in the cremation fires of Varanasi’s burning ghats. During my visit, I knew that what I was seeing was embedded in a completely different cultural context. And yet I was inextricably embedded in mine.

This became clear with regard to my artistic work. My ways of making and seeing dance were strange to people and the fingerprints of postmodern dance, pedestrianism, and experiment were invisible to them. My dances use a movement vocabulary which I invent. Their meaning is not connected to a text or story. They involve significant amounts of improvisation and chance. And they are more than just movement; they include their environments. Western culture may be ubiquitous, but it is not universal. My work was not transparent in India.

This, I realized, is what cross-cultural dialogue is all about. It is not simply looking with admiration at the offerings of another culture, admiring the diversity of things in the world. Rather, it is looking with curiosity and wonder at the lenses through which we see each other’s offerings-- holding those lenses up to the light and watching how the world is refracted.


(c)2005, Jill Sigman

Jill Sigman is a choreographer, performer, and Artistic Director of jill sigman/thinkdance, an experimental dance company that raises questions through the medium of the body. Sigman also writes about dance and art theory. In 2003, she left 200 texts about why she makes art around NYC--in taxis, phone booths, public bathrooms and supermarket freezers.

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