This time last year, I explained my dancing goals simply, by counting on my fingers: "I think you need three things in order to succeed as an artist; one - skill, two - creativity, three - passion. I know I have the last two, but I'm still not confident in my Bharatanatyam technique. And that's why I'm going to study in India. I really need to nail it once and for all." I had a very clear idea of what I wanted to achieve. I wanted to complete the final steps in my Bharatanatyam journey; I visualised this as mastering that elusive refinement of technique which gave performers a shiny perfection on stage.
But when I started classes in India, my teacher took issue with my basic aramandi (the default posture, similar to a demi-plie). Apparently my knees were falling in and putting undue pressure on my joints. As the year went on, I probably spent as much time conditioning my body as I did dancing Bharatanatyam. By systematically strengthening muscles and studying anatomical alignment, I learnt for the first time how to leap properly, how to achieve balance in fast floor sequences and how to expend energy more efficiently while dancing. I was outraged at never having been exposed to his sort of physical education, but upon realising that neither had most Bharatanatyam dancers in India and the UK, I instead began wondering why. What appeared to be a meaningless isolation of Bharatanatyam from modern dance science became somewhat more meaningful. Bharatanatyam is not treated as a sport, as ballet and contemporary dance seem to be. Is that because abhinaya, the theatrical component within Bharatanatyam, is a whole and demanding art form in itself, allowing dancers to neglect the physical training they need? Or is it because Bharatanatyam is still taught in a guru-centric manner which has an impermeability to new findings?
My understanding of Bharatanatyam unravelled while in India as I gathered up an overwhelming array of questions. How else can I improve the economy of movement when I dance? How can I achieve greater freedom within the restrictive geometrical demands of the Bharatanatyam aesthetic? What is the point of the restrictive geometrical demands? Can I catalogue Bharatanatyam's vocabulary of movement? What different qualities can I afford the same movement?
This is why I'm even more compelled to continue learning than I was before I left for India. The journey is not a linear one to perfection, but an exploration into dance as a system; it has mechanical parts that can be taken apart, examined, and put back together in more than one way. I'm still working towards the technical refinement that I would like to have as a performer, but it seems irrelevant to do so without addressing questions about what the form of Bharatanatyam currently is, and what it could be otherwise. I have only questions, no answers, but I have taken to writing about them in this blog, so that I might be able to ask them better.