Be the Light of the Party

What was your most memorable candlelit dinner experience ever?

Was it a romantic evening with your partner at a haute cuisine restaurant in Paris? Perhaps a homemade gourmet supper in the comfort of your own home? Or maybe wine and charcuterie in a cozy Alpine chalet with a breathtaking mountain view?

I’ve had my fair share of candlelit dinners to reminisce about, but the most memorable of them all was when the underground power lines downtown burned out, leaving my building without electricity for five days. Fun times!

Ah, candles… A source of light, warmth and comfort. We celebrate birthdays with them atop cakes; we mourn losses by clutching them in our hands.

Although real flame candles have largely been replaced by LED flameless alternatives, they remain a common decorative element around the world. Put a few of them on a pretty tray, and voilà—you’re an interior designer!

But wait, there’s more! Where do you put the pretty tray? Well, on your head, obviously. Balance it carefully, walk around a little, wave your arms. Dim the lights and gracefully make your way to the nearest mirror. Pose, smile, and admire your balancing skills.

Isn’t there a special kind of dance magic when you’re balancing a flaming (okay, flameless—I admit it) prop on your head? I am of the sword-balancing variety, but even I have caught myself mesmerized by the flickering lights reflecting off the shiny metal props of many a dancer on YouTube.

The majority of candle balancing videos feature dancers with candelabra of various sizes on their heads rather than trays, but the viewer experience is the same—it’s pure enjoyment!

It wouldn’t be a stretch of the imagination to assume that it all started with candles on a tray and then progressed to tabletop candelabra. However, there simply isn’t enough historical evidence to definitively say what came first. And after all, does it really matter?

There is an abundance of written accounts describing prop-balancing acts performed by traditional Egyptian entertainers, dating back to the 18th century—and perhaps even earlier. Some of these accounts mention lit candles being used during performances. Interestingly, there are also records of Upper Egypt’s ghawazi performing impressive balancing acts as part of their repertoire. However, modern-day ghawazi of Upper Egypt deny that such acts were ever part of their style.

Since balancing acts were purely meant to wow the audience, they often incorporated floorwork. Kneeling, doing splits, lying on the floor, and rolling are just a few of the known acrobatic feats of traditional floorwork. And all of that while balancing a lit candle—or multiple candles! Considering the amount of flammable materials around, the venue owners must’ve had the nerves of steel to watch such tricks without keeping the fire department on speed dial. Oh, how anachronistic of me!

Raqs Shamadan or Raqset al-Shamadan (candelabrum dance or the dance of the candelabrum, however you prefer to say it) seems to have emerged as a fusion of the artistry, grace, and ingenuity of the awalem and the ghawazi in late 19th- to early 20th-century Egypt.

The earliest photographic evidence of raqs shamadan that we currently have comes from Figaro Illustré, depicting a dancer from the 1900 Exposition Universelle in Paris, France. Here is the link to the publication (#124, July 1900).The image in question is on page 144, but if you’re balance-curious like me, do yourself a favour and start on page 142. Note the three different balancing props! Then, go back to page 144 and admire not only the dancer with the shamadan but also the one balancing a chair in her teeth.

As the dance traditions of the awalem and the ghawazi morphed into what came to be known as raqs sharqi, the candelabrum dance became a popular act in the entertainment halls of the early 20th century. The rising popularity of raqs shamadan also led to the development of a special base for the candelabra: a plain tabletop base was replaced with a specially crafted helmet of sorts.

Here is a clip of Zouba al-Klobatiyya in the 1946 film Five Pounds. Notice the base of her custom-made shamadan and the slight tilt of her candelabrum while she dances. This is not unique to this particular film—Zouba appears to perform with her impressive dance prop slightly tilted in other video recordings.

And here’s an even earlier film, My Daughter (1944), where the fabulous Nabawiyya Moustafa makes an appearance with a simple-base shamadan. It’s a shame she hands it off so quickly!

In keeping with the tradition of Golden Era filmmakers, the 1966 film Single (or Bachelor) Husband does not credit the dancer appearing in this clip, so her name remains unknown. Nonetheless, her plain-base shamadan balancing skills are to be admired!

No list of dancers famous for their shamadan-balancing performances would be complete without the one and only Nazla El Adel. I highly recommend watching the 1991 documentary Die Königin der Mohammed-Ali-Strasse | Queen of Muhammed Ali Street in full (don’t forget to turn on English subtitles if your Arabic or German are rusty or non-existent), but if you’re strapped for time, I suggest starting from this point at the very least. What a magnificent beast of a candelabrum she balances with such mastery! No wonder it has a helmet-like base. 

Okay, so far, we’ve seen the awalem and the Golden Era Raqset Al-Shamadan stylizations represented—but what about theatrical folklore? Glad you asked!

Since the Reda Troupe left no stone unturned when it came to popular dances of Egypt, a definitive theatrical stylization of the candelabrum dance is evident in this clip. Notice the downplayed hip and pelvic work. Here is a version by the National Troupe. These two performances share some striking similarities: the use of big stage space, dynamic blocking, the incorporation of flowing or billowing fabrics for dramatic effect, and lacklustre or completely absent floorwork. Even though this censorship-approved style would hardly be recognized by turn-of-the-century traditional entertainers, it is a feast for the eyes. 

According to multiple sources, including Morocco herself, when floorwork in belly dance was banned in Egypt around the 1950s, it was still allowed in raqs shamadan performances since it is considered “folklore”—a designation that gave the candelabrum dance somewhat of a protected status. In light of this, it is puzzling why Mahmoud Reda, the visionary behind the eponymous dance troupe, did not include more elaborate floorwork in his version of the dance.

The popularity of dancing with a shamadan seems to have declined since the mid-20th century and the establishment of The Ministry of Culture. You can read my take on the censorship of certain aspects of raqs sharqi here and here. Could it be that the dance of the candelabrum does not lend itself well to the sanitization and neutering required for government approval?

Moreover, the disappearance of the awalem tradition from the very fabric of Egyptian society has left belly dance neophytes wondering what is—and what isn’t—Raqset al-Shamadan.

It seems modern-day shamadan dances follow one of two general paths: one has a more theatrical presence and is best suited to a big stage and large groups, while the other appears to draw its inspiration from pre-raqs sharqi traditions and seeks to evoke the awalem or the ghawazi spirit of performance. Choose wisely since the path you take depends on many factors, such as the venue, audience preferences, your personal style, and more. 

Like everything else in belly dance, Raqset al-Shamadan is a living, ever-evolving subgenre of traditional Egyptian arts. Thus, combining innovation with genuine respect for the roots of this dance will go a long way.

Well, Dorothy, it’s been quite a ride—spanning over a century! It is time to wrap up my ramblings.

"But wait, Auntie! You didn’t mention the lamp on the head, or the zaffat, or who that very first person was—the one we’re so eager to credit with 'inventing' the candelabrum dance!" you say. 

Oh, darling, you bring to the table my favourite concoction—facts, assertions, and mythology, all swirled into one! Since the topics you mentioned require an excruciating level of diligence I do not currently possess, I shall set them aside until next time. Perhaps another 'Myth of the Month' post is in order.

However, how quaint of me it would be to leave you without a titillating teaser on these subjects! Make a mental note of the name Shafiqa Al-Qibtiyya and watch the magnificent Tahiya Carioca perform the role of Shafiqa on a theatrical stage.

There is much to dissect in this video from the historical perspective so I am leaving it for another day. Nonetheless, note two things: Tahiya’s shamadan has a glitzy chin strap, and she drops a finger cymbal almost at the end of her performance. The cymbal is picked up by one of the actors and handed back to her with a little playful gesture—it’s very cute and fits the atmosphere. 

Here is a more modern performance inspired by Shafiqa Al-Qibtiya and her legacy. Read the description: this is a tribute piece meant to evoke the spirit of the dance, rather than an attempt at historical reenactment. Shining is the one to follow if you are into more historically accurate styles. More of her dancing with a shamadan.  

This concludes my brief overview of raqs shamadan, or the candelabrum dance, and its history. There remains much to be said about this art form, and even more requires extensive research.

So, are you up for Part 2 on the subject of shamadan? Get in touch and let me know! askauntiehelen@gmail.com

A Brief Guide to a Student Recital, or...This is how we Camel

“A samurai has no goal, only path…”. 

This specific phrase might not have a direct origin in Bushido - the samurai code of conduct - but rather reflects modern interpretations of samurai ideals. It is pithy nonetheless.

“It’s not the destination, it’s the journey”. This sentiment has been expressed in different forms by many thinkers, writers, and philosophers. The concept of living in the moment holds immense appeal, especially in a world that often feels like it's constantly burning. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could all simply "stop and smell the roses"? 

You might think I’m just a never-ending fountain of clichés today, and that this post will be all about presentism and savoring life’s moments. Well, you’ll have to keep reading to see for yourself.

Last year, I conducted a workshop where I highlighted the fundamental strategies and principles of goal setting for beginner dancers. The primary aim of my talk was to demonstrate that, regardless of how big or ambitious a goal may be, it always requires clear milestones, timeframes, and a personalized system of rewards. If it doesn’t have a due date, it’s not a goal - it’s a wish(ful thinking). The milestones are there to ensure you’re on the right trajectory. The reward system is self-explanatory, though it does require careful tailoring, especially when considering common neurodivergence traits. Above all, however, every goal demands the most honest answer to a simple yet crucial question: why?

Why is this goal important to you? Why are you investing time, money, resources and mental energy into achieving it? What is it that you are seeking?

And here is where it gets tricky. 

Once you think you've answered this question honestly, pause and reconsider. Keep digging. Keep asking yourself, "Why?". Let’s say your initial response to why you want to learn a particular choreography is, "Because it’s cute, and I want to perform it well on stage." Alright, but why? "Because I want to perform it for a live audience, including my friends and family!" Of course! But why? "Well, I love my friends and family, and I want to share something I'm passionate about with them." That’s wonderful! But can you tell me why? "Because I’m fucking fabulous, and everyone in the world should recognize and appreciate my awesomeness, okay?!" Ah, now I get it! Thank you for your patience!

You see, no matter what your goal is, there’s always ego at the center of it. Ego is the fuel behind every goal. As a source of self-confidence, it pushes us to get shit done.

It is ego that drives us to step onto a stage and perform in front of a live audience. It's a bonus when the audience is friendly.

Inviting friends and family to see you dance on stage adds an extra layer of support and encouragement, making the event even more meaningful. 

A student recital is, at its core, the opportunity to share the experience of a genuine stage performance with fellow students, before an audience that is there to celebrate and admire each one, no matter what.

It is a tribute to the courage, resilience, and unwavering dedication required to prepare for the spotlight. A student recital serves as a unique learning opportunity, designed to inspire exploration and foster self-acceptance.

And here’s what a student recital is not: it is not a test, an exam to be passed, nor an audition for entry into some exclusive circle. It is not a measure of character; whether you choose to perform or not, it holds no judgment of the person you are. 

If your answer to the question "Why do you want to dance at the student recital?" ultimately boils down to "because I was told to," then you might want to reassess this decision… 

The stage can feel like an awe-inspiring and daunting realm.

Well, not really - but I’m being intentionally melodramatic to emphasize my point.

The stage is a place of heightened emotions and blatant disregard for one’s long-term physical health! 

That’s tip number one, especially for those new to stage performance or student dance recitals: only dance to the intensity you have practiced for. This is not the time to level up your backbend, master a Turkish drop, or even go so low in vertical mayas that your kneecaps pop out, despite what the adrenaline and endorphins in your bloodstream may tell you. Please don’t hurt yourself trying to impress the audience. Guess how I know it’s a bad idea?

Tip number two: safety pins are a dancer’s best friend. Even if you think everything will stay in place on its own, pin it anyway! Having experienced my fair share of wardrobe malfunctions, both on stage and from the audience’s view, I can't stress this enough: pin it.

Third and, perhaps, not so obvious tip. Avoid wearing underwear with bold patterns even if the fabric of your costume doesn’t appear to be see-through. The brightness of the stage lights might surprise you, and not in a good way. We all love a good polka-dot print but it is best reserved for a different occasion. Although, you need to experience it for yourself to truly appreciate the importance of this tip… 

I asked my fellow dancers to share their advice for those new to public performances and recitals and I wish I had read these tips years ago before my very first stage appearance!

(The grammar and punctuation have been preserved as originally written, where possible.)  

“Make sure you keep hydrated and make sure you eat. I have learned that over the years. Make sure your makeup stands out under the stage lights ✨️.” 

• Brittney

“1. Don’t forget to breath 😉

2. If you make a mistake just go with it, no one will notice but you! 

3. Don’t sweat the small stuff, it all goes by so fast so just enjoy the experience, because it’s quite an experience ❤️

4. Don’t be afraid to approach more experienced dancers with questions or help with costuming or makeup… or anything really” 

• Jessica 

“Practice your performance piece, at least once, in your costume and with any props. This lets you think about and deal with any dress issues before you are on stage for real. Rehearsals, sound, and light checks are valuable, too, and give comfort. Practice the way you want to perform, smiles included because you will perform the way you practice. Visualizing the dance in your head works well.” 

• Sally

“Let’s have fun together even if you're shivering 🥶 

It’s not about the test or judgement 

Let’s celebrate our beautiful souls & bodies” 

• Melody

“Relax and have fun. You’ve worked hard and know your pieces. If you focus on the joy of dancing, any mistakes you make will be a little blip that you quickly move past.” 

• Sarina

I asked the in-house photographer to share any insights from the other side of the lens as well.

Here is what I got:

“Keep breathing. If you hold your breath, the camera is likely to capture it even if the audience doesn’t notice. It could ruin otherwise perfect shots.

Whenever possible, find out the colour of the stage background before choosing your costume colour. Make sure they don’t match - unless you’re planning a disappearance act.

There’s no such thing as too much makeup. The stage lights will wash out your features, so don’t hesitate to “dial them to 11”

Come talk to the photographer if you have specific moments you'd like captured (such as gracefully wrapping and unwrapping a veil, showcasing a prop, performing a particularly high jump, or anything else that stands out). It’s best done during tech run so you and the camera person are on the same page. Teamwork makes for better photos.

Avoid colour matching your veil to your costume. No matter how graceful your pose with the veil is, your body outline will look obscured and blurred. Colours can also “bleed” onto your skin under the lights in some cases.

Don’t be afraid to love what you are doing. Let the emotions you are experiencing while performing show in your every move. Emotionally charged moments on stage make the most striking shots.” 

• Anton, PhotoNinja YYC

This is all I have for you today. I hope you’ve found something valuable in this brief guide to student dance recitals - and perhaps to any stage performance!

I am sincerely looking forward to sharing the experience of the upcoming Shimmy Showcase with all of you. 

Have some tips to share? Get in touch! 

askauntiehelen@gmail.com

Silk and Large Theropods

If you had to choose one - only one - belly dance prop to dance with for the rest of your life, what would it be?

My psychic superpowers tell me a significant number of you would pick a veil. And out of those, the vast majority would go with the rectangular or half-circle piece of artfully coloured silk (although some are insane enough to prefer fan veils or Isis wings).  From now on, when I say “veil” I’m referring specifically to a large piece of fabric not attached to a frame or a handle of any sort. I almost envy your affection for this moody, temperamental and unruly prop!

Don’t get me wrong, I admire good veil choreography as much as anyone, but I’m much happier being the viewer rather than the performer when it comes to veils. 

Have I used veils as an entrance prop for my solos? Yes. Will I do it in the future? Also yes. However…

Dorothy, buckle that seat belt - we’re off for a speedy ride today!

A few months ago I had the opportunity to watch a lecture presented by Dawn Devine aka Davina called "Veils Unveiled: From Art Dance to Belly Dance". During the talk and well curated slide show, Dawn successfully argues that this hugely popular prop is our Greco-Roman heritage showing up in all its glory. She traces the history of our fascination with flowy fabrics from artifacts dating back to the Late Bronze era through Ancient Greek and then Roman civilizations all the way to today. I highly recommend attending this lecture if such opportunity ever comes your way. 

Well, I have instructed you where to get more information on an interesting and uncontroversial topic. It looks like my job here is done! 

If you really thought your favourite Auntie can be this succinct and concise, you are about to be disappointed. I can’t just walk away without spicing up your day with my personal opinion!

Have you ever been told the story on how veils in raqs sharqi were introduced by Samia Gamal’s poor arm positioning? Let me refresh your memory. 

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, Samia Gamal had such a crippling inability to hold her arms out while dancing that she looked like she was cosplaying a T-Rex. An unknown Russian ballet master, under whose watchful eye Gamal was studying at the time, felt the need to fix the problematic arms.  The master threw a piece of silk fabric that just happened to be lying around over Samia’s arms and made her hold it up during the training. All who witnessed the beautiful flow of the fabric as Samia Gamal danced were mesmerized and thus the veil became a staple in belly dance performances. And they all lived happily ever after. The end. 

I have heard numerous retellings of this story from different teachers over the years. This is one of those myths that just won’t die off because people find the story charming and cute in some strange way. Also, we like certainty. Well, nothing is certain in raqs sharqi. Mind blowing, right?  

Please allow me to state a few propositions, and then wrap up with a conclusion I have come to after evaluating the probabilities.

What we know:  

Samia Gamal started her dance career at one of Badhia Masabni’s clubs.

Bahdia Masabni hired professional teachers, including ballet instructors, to train her performers.

Bahdia Masabni used western performing arts as inspiration for her shows quite freely. Big flowy veils were hugely popular in the West during the Art Nouveau period and continued to be so while Bahdia was establishing her entertainment business(es). 

Dance space became big. Very big. The most effective way to fill up a large stage is to swoosh lightweight fabric around to visually take up space with no need for more humans.

Samia Gamal has a distinct AND BEAUTIFUL arm movement style in all the films where she dances, be that movies made in Egypt or abroad no matter how early in her career. The T-Rex arms? Really? 

Samia Gamal seems to have incorporated more veil work into her dance after her trip to the US. Perhaps the American belly dancers had already built the veils into the image of “oriental fantasy” they presented to the local audience, so Samia followed suit.

My conclusion:

Veils were incorporated into what became known as raqs sharqi as the dance industry of Egypt was transitioning from the mostly improvised awalem dance style to choreographed entertainment hall dances. If there is one person that must be credited with popularizing veils as part of Egyptian raqs sharqi, it should be Bahdia Masabni under the influence of the western arts. Less charming and cute, but a much more believable sequence of events.

One point I’d like to make before I wrap up this rant. The veils that we all love so much had minimal chance of being part of traditional belly dance before the concept of entertainment venues became a thing for one simple reason: zills! 

It is exceptionally hard to find a performance by a traditional entertainer not playing finger cymbals. The shiny metal disks are such an integral part of the dance that you can see all sorts of dancers play them. They are a critical part of any Upper Egypt ghawazi performance - the Mazin sisters are unimaginable without the distinct accompaniment of the tiny musical instruments on their fingertips! There is no place for a large and uncooperative piece of cloth within a traditional performance. 

I’m not saying it’s impossible to dance with a veil and play finger cymbals at the same time (I will also neither confirm nor deny ever attempting to do so), but what would you rather do?    

What’s your most favorite prop? What’s your least favorite prop? Why?

Get in touch: askauntiehelen@gmail.com