Spanish Dance

SPANISH DANCES

Spanish dances are expressions of the Spanish character itself and there are a great variety of them.

First, there are the traditional dances. Andalusian dances include the alegrias, bolero, bulerias, fandango, fandanguillo, farruga, folias, and ole. The bolero can be danced by a couple or as a solo, but all the others are solo dances, either for man or woman. The best known dance in Asturias is the pericote, danced by two women and one man, while in Galicia they perform the muineira, danced by three couples facing each other. The commonest dance in Catalonia is the sardana, in which many take part, holding hands. in Arag6n everyone knows how to perform the jota, danced by one couple or by ten or more.

In all these traditional dances one surprising factor emerges: the rhythm is set by the dancers themselves; it carries over from the dancers to the bystanders, who maintain it by clapping hands or in low, harsh tones of voice. It is therefore an inner rhythm that spreads outward. This remains true even in the case of those dances which have been adulterated for the entertainment of the tourists who flock to the caves of Albaicin or the Sacro Monte at Granada to see the gypsies.

SPANISH BALLET

In Spanish ballet, on the other hand, something else strikes the observer immediately: unlike the classical ballet, the dancers do not make use of the air, seeking to escape from the ground. Rather they are bound to the earth, stamping on it as if they were trying to make it submit to their will. Anyone who has witnessed a zapeteado, danced by Antonio, so far unrivaled in technical virtuosity and temperament, will once grasp the essential character of Spanish ballet.

This is, in any event, of recent development, having arisen out of the work of Manuel De Falla, a musician who was able to harness an extremely individual talent to the spirit of a whole people. But Spanish music does not need a great musician to interpret it; simple rhythms, sharp chords, a musical background lightly sketched in by castanets or a guitar are quite sufficient.

Federico Garcia Lorca wrote:... empieza el llanto/de la guitarra./ Es inutil callarla./ Es imposible/ allarla./ Llora monotono/corno fora el agua,/ corno flora el viento/ obre ]a nevada./ Es imposible/ allarla./ Llora por cosas/lejanas..." (The guitar begins its lament. Useless to silence it. Impossible to silence it. It weeps sadly, as the water weeps, as. the wind weeps over the snow. Impossible to silence it. It weeps for far off things...)

Choreography, skillful teaching, and the will to success are the strengths of present day Spanish ballet, as represented by Antonia, Carmen Amaya, Marianela De Montijo, Paquita Tomas, Pilar Lopez, and Silvia Ivars; it has made its mark with a style that remains quite unique. Spanish ballet, particularly through Pilar Lopez, who carries on the school of her sister, Encarnacion _6pez, known as the Argentinita, is trying to modernize itself, while Conchita Piquar has attempted to revive old themes within the Castilian tradition. Marianela De Montijo has brought ballet closer to the classical form, in particular with her tremendous production of the Peteneras.

All these efforts bear witness to a continuous ferment in the world of ballet and to great rivalries between various groups and trends. But both traditional dances and the ballet derive their strength from instinct, temperament, from a kind of nervous rather than muscular energy, and a fire that is spiritual rather than technically acquired.

DANCES IN INNS

In Cadiz, Malaga and Granada, it is enough to enter any small inn, to find and to appreciate the immediacy and sincerity of Spanish dancing. There will be a guitarist or some waiter neglecting his work to beat the time out with his hands: it will only be a moment before a girl or a couple get up on the spur of the moment and dance. The magic is then complete, emanating that mystical yet erotic atmosphere that marks the Spanish spirit, revealing a vitality and a love that typify a whole people, and reflect distant thoughts and hidden desires which form the background to the destiny of Spain itself.

Once more one can turn to Federico Garcia Lorca, this time to find out how Spanish dancing is to be approached, and what elements must be present for it to be genuine. He tells how one day the Andalusian cantaora, Pastora Pav6n, was singing in a small inn in Cadiz. Everyone was listening. When she finished however, her audience was silent; until a man, exclaimed in disgust: "Up with Paris."

By this he meant: "We don't care for technical accomplishment or professional skill. We want something different." And Garcia Lorca illustrates and sums up that "something different" with the one word duende. The dictionary says that duende means "little devil," but this is a literal translation that does not help us to understand Lorca's subtle interpretation.

THE SPIRIT OF THE DANCE

Speaking of a dancer, and paraphrasing what was said of the cantaora, one could say that the duende is not in his blood but rises from the ground he touches. It is a spirit. As Goethe once said: "It is a mysterious force which everyone can feel but no philosopher can explain." The duende is the antique spirit that resides in every true Spaniard, and breaks out in dance or song. If the duende is missing, there is no artistic miracle. The duende is a state of grace, capricious and ephemeral, which the true dancer will seek inside himself as soon as he unleashes his body into the movements of the dance.

It is this presence alone that separates the Spanish dancer, both man and woman, from all others, making him instantly recognizable. The tap of a heel, the bending of a knee, a gesture of the arms and above all the haughty intensity of a facial expression are sufficient, each one of them, to stamp as with a mark the special character of the Spanish dance.

Many watching even the most spontaneous dancing will remember the truth of what has been said; they will also recall these words: "The emergence of the duende presupposes a radical renunciation of form, a return to the old themes. Yet it provides a sensation of complete newness, an impression of roses in bloom, of a miracle, and it calls forth an almost religious enthusiasm."