Gleanings

(From The Dancing Times, London)

I. THE REVIVED GREEK DANCE

BY RUBY GINNER

The basis of all Western education and art originated in Greece, in the days when art and education were indivisible; as the centuries went by they grew more and more apart, education being relegated to the class-room, and the arts to the theatre, the concert-hall and the art-gallery.

The art of the Dance, in particular, became, in its highest form, a science of movement confined to a comparatively small band of expert exponents. Exquisite as this science was, it played no part in the life of the people, beyond the presentation of a delightful spectacle. Even today, though many new methods of movement are being essayed, and a marked revival is found in the school of ballet, there is no general participation in a communal art-form such as held sway in Greece.

The remarkable growth of public interest in the Revived Greek Dance during the last ten years is not, therefore, so very remarkable when one considers that it does give just that participation in an art which the Greeks made the root idea of all their education.

The Revived Greek Dance develops the body in an equality of strength, without any physical strain or undue muscular development; it provides the medium for self-expression through a method attainable by all average physiques, adult or juvenile; and, more important, it is in direct connection with all the classic arts of Greece.

In order to study the Greek Dance from the right angle it is important to be clear upon the following points--

(1) That it was, primarily, a translation in movement of the every-day happenings of Greek life, of the normal thoughts and emotions of the human mind.

(2) That it was developed by the people for the people, and was shared by all.

In Hellenic days the Dance was a vital power in every phase of Greek life. The constant references to it in literature, drama, poetry, philosophy, the figures of sculpture, and the thousands of representations of dancers on the vases of all periods, go to prove this fact.

The types of Hellenic Dance may, roughly, be grouped as follows-

Pyrrhic and Gymnopredic Dances.

Ritual Dances of Worship and Dedication.

Funeral Dances.

Choric Dances, tragic and comic.

Bacchic Dances of Ecstasy.

Rustic Dances at Springtime, Harvest, Vintage, etc.

Social Dances, at Weddings and other festivities.

Traces of all these types are to be found in Greek art of every period, a study of which shows the high ideal held of physical beauty, and the methods used, by the practice of athletics, games and dancing, to attain this ideal in every citizen. The abhorrence of any abnormal or eccentric development of the human form is marked clearly in the sculptural representations of athletes and dancers; where the bodies, developed and trained on normal lines, execute only those movements which are natural to the human mechanism.

In the reconstruction of the Greek Dance for the world of today. I have drawn upon Greek literature, sculpture and the ceramic arts, and I have borne always in mind two points–

(1) That the perfection and idealisation of natural bodily movement is combined in the Greeks with a great humanity.

(2) That the figures represented in art show only a transitory moment of the dancer’s movement, and it is therefore necessary to discover the movements preceding and following this momentary capture by the artist’s brush or chisel.

A series of plastic poses copied in detail from vases or reliefs, with no connecting link of thought or movement, is not Greek Dance. The Greeks were a passionate race, brimming with all the virtues and vices of a great and vital people. They knew love and hate, laughter and tears as we do, and as their other arts expressed these emotions, so, we may be sure, did their dance; it was not an art of posturing, but a passionate expression of themselves.

In the various forms of Greek Dance the lines, steps and movements are fundamentally the same, and they never depart from the natural line of the body into the abnormal. The difference of expression necessary to the many types is made by the change of thought and the great vanatlon of force, both physical and emotional.

Certain positions and movements are associated more particularly with certain forms. In the Dionysian Dances of the Satyrs and Maenads the arms are nearly always in angular poses, with characteristic hand and finger positions. The flow of the draperies indicates that these dances were swift and full of turning movements, necessitating great flexibility of the torso to attain these positions at speed, while the head is thrown violently wards or forwards.

The Pyrrhic Dance also makes use of the angular lines of the arms, but this time with an indication of great strength and muscular resistance rather than the flexibility of the bacchantes.

In the Tragic Dance one finds movements of violence in early times, which change gradually through the centuries to dances of great dignity, restraint and beauty.

But whatever form the Dance takes, there are certain points of resemblance, which seems a sure indication of a definite technique of movement.

The steps of the dance are all made upon the normal movement of the leg forward; the acute turn out of the leg from the hip-joint (in use in the art of the ballet) is nowhere to be found, with the exception of an occasional representation of a Satyr in the grotesque dances of the Dionysia.

In some of the athletic and pyrrhic work one sees the turn out of the leg in strong lunging positions; but as a general rule the line of the foot and the whole limb is made directly forward.

This reveals a long stretch of the leg, both forward and ward from the hip, giving an impression of litheness and speed which is most beautiful.

The steps of the dance are built upon walking, running or springing movements, and do not appear to have any great complexity. The reason for this is obvious.

All Greek dances were performed in big spaces, in the open air, upon marble floors or hard-beaten earth. If the dance was in a theatre, the dancer in the large circular orkestra was surrounded on all sides with some ten to twenty thousand spectators, ranged in tier upon tier of seats above him. The expression of the dance had to carry upwards and outwards; any intricacy of footwork would be hidden from the spectators above by the long draperies of the dancer.

The gestures had to be very broad and powerful to carry in such a vast space, and of necessity the steps were equally broad and firm to give the required balance.

In dancing for my own experiment in those theatres of Greece which I have visited, I have been more and more impressed with the necessity for breadth, directness and simplicity in the movements of the Greek Dance. Small or difficult steps would merely impede the performer whose dance must be primarily a dance of gesture.

The same argument would apply to any Gymnopredic or Pyrrhic Dance taking place in a stadium.

In ritual and funeral ceremonies the element of religious emotion would find expression in gestures executed only to a simple walking step.

We see, therefore, that both the shape and the size of the Greek theatres had an effect upon the general movement of the body and the design of gesture.

There was also another effect, from these same causes, upon the form of the dance: the strong rotation of the dancer’s body at the waist. Whether the dances were processional (i.e. going in lines along the streets of a city) or dedicatory (i.e. proceeding round an altar) the spectators would view the performers more from the side than from the front.

In the modern theatre the spectators are only in front of the performers, who therefore use the arms forwards and outwards and the legs sideways in order to show the whole of the movement.

In the Greek theatre, on the contrary, the dancer had to travel around a circular space, and was seen mostly in profile. In order to avoid the narrow view of one side of the body only the performer, while running, skipping, or walking, made a big turn of the body at the waist, carrying one arm directly before him, and one behind, so that the upper part of the body was actually full face to the audience, with the head in profile facing forward or . The lower limbs were used on the straight line, so that the spectators could see the toe, the heel and the stretch of leg and thigh.

There are representations of Satyrs drawn full face, with a big turn-out at the hip, which seem to indicate that they sometimes travel round the orkestra in sideways leaps, reminiscent of exaggerated pas-de-chat, but in nearly all the reliefs and sculptures of dancers the forward movement of the leg and the waist turn is in evidence.

This position would, of course, require a flexibility of body which is more natural to Southern and Eastern races than to those of the North.

In hot countries, where people’s passions are more quickly stirred, the dance always possesses those bending and undulating body-movements which most naturally express the physical passions. But in addition to this, the Greek race had a strong strain of northern blood from its northern invaders.

The development of physical force and speed, the love of athletics, the cultivation of restraint, these were the result of this other side in their character, and balanced very finely the passionate nature which by itself would have led to a dance expressing only the sensuous. The combination of these two elements made it possible for the Greeks to develop in an unusual degree both the physical force of the North and the supple litheness of the South and East.

From the above deductions then we see that the technique and the design of the dance was affected definitely by the places in which the dances were performed, by the Size and shape of the dancing floors and theatres.

The expression of the dance shows the varying qualities of many races: passion and restraint, violence and delicacy, power and repose, physical strength and intellectuality, sorrow and joy.

The dance was regarded, undoubtedly, as one of the highest forms of art. The literary references alone inform us of the high esteem in which it was held. "The Dance, of all the arts, is the one that most influences the Soul. Dancing is divine in its nature, and is the gift of God." (Plato).

And again: "When a beautiful soul harmonises with a beautiful form, and the two are knit together in one mould, that will be the fairest of sights for him who has eyes to see."

The ancient Greek Dance may have been (though we cannot tell) simple of execution to the Greeks, since there was but little complexity of step; but the revival of this art is by no means easy of achievement to the dancer of today. Because the main attribute of the Greek Dance is its simplicity, let no one fall into the error of thinking it is easy.

The modern tendency to acrobatics and eccentricities in movement is a serious hindrance to the acquisition of the directness of thought and movement necessary to the execution of the Hellenic Dance.

The pace of living and the nervous tension resulting therefrom puts up a barrier against the repose, restraint and unhurried dignity of the ancient ways of movement.

Our lives and thoughts are now so complex that it requires much time and effort to attain the simplicity of thought and desire which was the basis of the ancient arts. We have not the same vision of beauty, the ideal of sanctity of the human body has been dimmed. We have to make good hundreds of years of neglect of our bodies, the highest works of creation. We are surrounded by everything which is in direct opposition to the Greek ideal.

The Revived Greek Dance therefore requires as much study and practice as any other form of dance; and the first thing necessary to the student is a readjustment of thought. He must shut out the clamour and complexity of the present day and come with Plato into the realm of thought where the beauty of the human body and of the human soul are united in a divine harmony; when he can say, with Socrates, "What shame it is for a man to grow old without ever having known the strength and beauty of which his body is capable."

II. KATHAKALI

BY M. H. BARNARD

There is a class of story tellers, or rather story actors, in Malabar called the Chakyars. They are an ancient institution, and it is extremely probable that their story telling is derived from that of the Sutas, one of whom related the Mahabharata story in the forest. During the early Christian era it was their custom to recite, with acting and hand gestures, Sanskrit plays such as those of Kalidasa and Harsha. At that time Buddhism flourished in Malabar, and the Buddhist play, "Nagananda," was a favourite subject. It is said that realism in the acting of these Chakyars was carried to such lengths that some, equipped with parachute-like apparatus, jumped from great heights while taking the part of the bird, Garuda, in that play.

About the ninth century the great Cheraman Perumal, King of Kerala, reorganised the theatre with the help of his minister, who was also a poet. During the twelfth century a new Sanskrit composition appeared which was destined to play an important part in the drama of Southern India. This was the famous "Gita Govinda," by the Bengali poet, Jayadeva. Its theme is the love of Krishna and Radha, and it is to this day taught as tradition to the boys and girls of Malabar under the name of Ahtapadi. There is an unpublished manuscript in the Tanjore Library which gives the action for every word of this very beautiful lyric drama. During the seventeenth century a Zamorin (then a ruling prince) of Calicut composed a Krishna play in Sanskrit in close imitation of the "Gita Govinda." Its performance lasted over seven nights, and it covered the whole life of Krishna, whose cult had by this time become firmly established in Malabar. A vassal chieftain in Travancore wished to engage the services of Zamorin’s troupe, but was sneeringly told that the southern court had not sufficient learning to appreciate the play. This led to the production of a rival play on the story of Rama, in Malayalam, and it was actually out of this that the Kathakali arose. At first the actors wore masks and spoke and sang, but later it became changed to its present form by the Malabar Brahmins. An extensive Kathakali literature grew up. The mixture of pure Sanskrit and pure Malayalam, though it may sound incongruous, appears quite natural to the Malayalees. The influence of Sanskrit over the Malayalam language increased, and there has always been enough in the Kathakali plays to suit the populace as well as the scholars. Its ultimate appeal is religious, like that of every other Indian art, and its themes epic and all-Indian.

Perhaps the most famous band of Kathakali dancers at the present day are those from the Kerala Academy of Arts. Kerala is a narrow strip of land in the extreme south-west of India between the Western Ghats and the Arabian Sea, and includes Travancore, Cochin, and Malabar. There is no doubt that its isolated position has been the cause of preserving so many ancient customs, such as a feudal system of land tenure, the matriarchal family, a rigid caste system, and an unbroken tradition of Sanskrit learning and culture. Out of this culture has arisen the Kathakali or "story play," which comprises the Sanskrit drama (Natakanrtta) or dancing, Gita or vocal music, Vadya or instrumental music, and Abhinaya or histrionics, including a language of the hands (Mudras). Except for the music these have preserved their ancient form and serve the same purpose as the ancient drama. In Kathakali the singing and speaking are performed by a group of musicians who do not come on to the stage, though when the performances are given indoors (as were those I attended) the musicians are clearly visible in the wings. They sing or chant the story, and the actors dance and mime it.

The make-up takes several hours to apply, and the dancers frequently sleep under the administrations of the make-up man. It is unique to Kathakali, and is evidently copied from the masks previously worn. Unlike a mask, however, it allows and, in fact, accentuates the play of movement in the facial muscles. The colour schemes are symbolical and follow rigorous rules. Gentle maidens (the parts are taken by men) have a more or less simple make-up of white spots on a ground of yellow-red. This is called minucco, or smoothing, and the spots are not too apparent from the auditorium. Krishna’s face is a mid-green with a ribbon of white, in relief, outlining the face. He wears a small coronet with a crest of peacock feathers. This scheme (called paccha) is adopted by all noble characters. Fierce characters have a green ground varied by a more elaborate scheme of white lines, a red margin round the nose and a white ball the size of a cherry on the tip of the nose. A very wicked character like Dussasana has this make-up plus a dark patch round the eyes, a pair of canine teeth about two inches long, and a flaming red beard. The Chokkannadi or red beard type is the most impressive and important figure on the Kathakali stage. Another variety called Kari or "black-grotesque" wears a black and white basket-like contraption on the head and a huge black beard. He is an aborigine or hunter–possibly a cannibal (Siva assumes this form when he tests Arjuna). Another feature of the make-up is that the eyeballs are stained red with a vegetable dye. I have been told it is quite harmless, but the effect is not pleasant.

The costume appears very cumbersome and heavy, and one’s first impression is of a very fat, short person in a crinoline. During the course of the movements (sometimes the actors hardly seem to be "dancing" for the legs may be stationary for several minutes) it is seen that this effect is achieved by a very full white skirt about calf length, and holding the legs in a position of which the nearest description is a "plie in second." A tight-fitting jacket is worn, and several wide scarves with knotted ends are worn round the neck. The ends, which fall to the waist or thigh, sway and add volume to the dance movements. The head-dress is striking, and has been borrowed intact by Uday Shankar and Ragini Devi, who have based some of their most effective dances on the Kathakali, though their treatment of the stories is entirely different. Two varieties of crown are used, a small dome-like one and a larger one shaped like a pagoda hti (umbrella). The latter is framed at the by a broad flat disc of peacock feathers or jewels, and from the looks, in conjunction with the very long loose hair that is worn, very much like an old-fashioned schoolgirl’s tam-o’-shanter, albeit a very gorgeous one. This effect is much heightened by the short, full skirt that is worn. I have seen "celestial maidens" wearing a small head-dress and a thick white cotton veil depending from it and covering the shoulders, and long string-like black hair, which seemed to have been closely copied from the Hungarian, though this is extremely unlikely.

In its natural state the Kathakali is performed out of doors and lasts all night, in fact, the longer stories, such as "Nala" and "Sakuntala:" extend over several nights. A performance is announced by an hour or so of rhythmical drumming early in the evening, and the audience arrive and take up their positions on the ground around the platform. There is usually plenty of clean sand to sit on, and here and there a low-roofed platform called a Kalithatta. These platforms can be used by anyone, and are not specially reserved. The performances are not usually given during the monsoon, and so there is no fear of rain. These story plays are given in every village and are performed by the village people, but, because the art was dying out, the poet, Vallathol, has gathered together a little group of artists at the Kerala Academy of Arts, a few miles from Cochin, and has been reviving and developing it, though still persisting in primitive methods of production. For instance, there is no scenery or modern lighting. For a curtain two men hold up a large cloth and the actors take up their position behind it. Here music and dance steps are performed–invocations to the deity–and when the actors are ready the men walk away, taking the curtain with them.

In the case of the performances I saw, a synopsis was given on the programme, both in English and the vernacular, by which, it was said, the story could be easily followed. It probably could by an Indian but Eastern and Western conceptions of the same idea are so utterly different, such poles apart, that except in a few instances when nearing the climax. I found it not at all easy to determine at what point in the story the dancer had arrived. The length of time it took–perhaps three-quarters of an hour–for a dancer or dancers to say in "mudras" about half a dozen fairly long sentences heightened the difficulty, but when the climax came events moved quickly and there was no difficulty in following what was happening. The dancers are all, by reason of their training, clever mimes, and their methods are sometimes a trifle too literal. Hand gesture perhaps plays the most important part in the performance. The plie position of the legs is held almost throughout, with a queer kind of "reaching" movement of the foot to the side, putting down the outside edge of the foot first. The way in which the body is held is very significant, and one of the most striking technical points in Kathakali is the use made of the eyes and lower eyelid. The upper eyelid is kept open. The dancer never blinks, but at times the only movement of the entire body is an extremely rapid fluttering of the lower eyelid. The unblinking stare of the red-stained eyes give one an impression of something remote and inhuman.

In Kathakali all the stories are religious in origin and are well known to the audience. The play usually opens with a love scene or one depicting the charms of nature. Then the main play begins and is shown in a succession of dramatic scenes. It moves on to a climax of fierce passion, and in the early hours of the morning appear the great figures fighting and slaying. Red-beard comes, heralded by flourish of drum and cymbal. He stands behind the curtain, clawing at it and tossing it to and fro and uttering the most bloodthirsty of cries. At last, when the pitch of excitement appears likely to break all bounds, Redbeard breaks through the curtain and stands revealed in all his horror. There follows a contest which to Western eyes may seem tame at first and long drawn out. There is little movement for some time, the contestants circling slowly round each other, or toward and away, in attitudes of watchfulness. Then comes the circling with linked arms, and finally the overthrow of the other by Redbeard. He pounces on his unfortunate victim and tears him open. Groping hands are withdrawn dripping with blood and holding aloft intestines which the monster eats. The screams of the victim add to the scene of horror, and the conqueror, who has worked himself up into a frenzy, runs about the stage and through the audience shrieking and howling.

I have been told that very few actors can perform the "Blood Display," and that it is only shown on special occasions, of which ample warning is given, for the effect on an unprepared spectator can be very unpleasant. So women and children remain indoors when a blood display is to be given, and only the brave go forth to witness it–at least, in Kerala. I have twice seen a blood display given in a large hall where the actor had to restrain himself from running among the audience. Nevertheless, it was a particularly revolting spectacle, nothing was left to the imagination, and I for one was a very unwilling spectator. In fact, I took refuge behind my programme for most of the time.

It is of interest to note that on this point the Kathakali differs from the Sanskrit drama, in which violence is taboo. But the Malayalees were warriors for many centuries, and this may account for the ferocity of such scenes as the blood display.