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Celebrating Persian Culture: An Apprenticeship in Classical Persian Music

Bay Area Students Learn to Create a Traditional Altar in Honor of Dia de los Muertos  

 

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A Shared Passion: Mother and Daughter Master Bharata Natyam Dance

Lisa Richardson, Consulting Ethnomusicologist to ACTA (Manager, Folk and Traditional Arts Program, California Traditional Music Society)

This article is part of a series that features the work of participants in ACTA's Apprenticeship Program.

It is because of servants in ancient Indian temples that Malathi and Lakshmi Iyengar are dancers today.  “Our artform, Bharata Natyam, is one of the oldest forms of Indian classical dance and can be traced back over 2000 years,” Malathi explains.  “This art was nurtured in the temples by wonderful women called deva dasis – deva means god, dasi means servant.  They offered their music and dance as a form of worship.”  The art was passed down through oral tradition from guru to disciple, with many of the steps codified in manuscripts and poses being depicted in elaborate sculpture on temple walls.  But during the English occupation, Bharata Natyam was threatened with extinction.  Because of issues between the sexes, the English banned the deva dasi system.  Luckily, some forward-thinking Indian dance masters saved the art form so that it would not die with these women.  They brought it out of the temple walls and to the common people.  Malathi says, “Had it not been for the deva dasis, we would not have this beautiful artform.  Some of them then became great teachers.  My teacher traces his dance lineage back to these original masters.”

Malathi Iyengar grew up in a small village in India in an art-oriented family.  Her father played violin, her mother was a singer and both were visual artists.  Her mother also taught her the art of rangoli, the large, elaborate sand mandalas that are created for special occasions.  As a child, Malathi always loved Bharata Natyam, but they were poor – they did not have the means for her to take lessons in a classical art form.  After an arranged marriage at 19, she and her new husband moved to the United States in 1974, and have been here ever since. “The first five or six years were the worst.  I was young, lonely, with no friends.  We were the pioneers – there were not many Indians here then.  After a while I began to make good friends, both Indian and American, and began to feel at home.  Now I’ve spent more time here than in my own country.  This is my home.”

It wasn’t until her daughter Lakshmi was born in 1982 that Malathi’s passion for dance was rekindled.  “My parents had always put together festivals, house concerts, and I also had the drive to do this.  We often informally put together small events, both musical and visual arts.”  Then after Lakshmi was born, dance was a regular part of the Iyengar household.  “She was dancing from the time I can remember, abundant movement.  Even as a toddler, she did all kinds of dance and never sat still.  We get tired just watching the videos of her at this age!”  Precocious at the age of 6, Lakshmi informed her parents of which art forms she wanted to study.  She said, “I want to do one western art form and one Indian art form: piano and Bharata Natyam.”  And that was the beginning of the journey for both mother and daughter.

At the age dancers usually retire, Malathi started taking lessons with her daughter.  “When we started, she was 6 years old and I was 33.  Eventually, I brought our dance guru here from India every six months, and I would also go there every year. For years we did this.  I did my solo dance debut at the age 38 and everyone in the Indian community knew about it!”  Malathi says she wanted to go through this process for several reasons.  “I did it not only because there was this fire within me, or to see what it would be like to hold an audiences attention for two hours, but also as a quest for knowledge.  What strength does it take within a person to do that, to complete that journey?  I also felt it was important for me to be a role model for my daughter.  If she sees that her mother can work so hard at something, it gives her motivation for anything in life, not just dance, that if you stay the course, you can do it.”  Malathi also found such inspiration in her own mother.  “My mother is the reason my brother and I went to school.  It was unheard of in her generation to go back to school, but she did, to get a better job.  My god, if my mother with limited means in those times when people didn’t even support women working – if she could do it, I certainly could with my privileges and the many things that have been given to me.”  Malathi says that dance then took over her life.  “The more I experienced it, I felt it was an ocean I had to cross.  I wanted to experience the breadth of dance, not only to dance but to choreograph, to teach.  I wanted to go deeper and deeper into its many forms, to internalize it.  Then in 1990, I met my master guru, and she is the main reason I am what I am today.”

Of course, what motivates a 6-year-old is a bit different than what motivates an adult.  As Lakshmi admits, as an Indian-American in Los Angeles, she could’ve chosen any form to channel her movement energy into – ballet, tap, hula, you name it.  When she was very young, the family attended many Indian concerts and dances that were very inspirational for her.  “In the beginning, I’d make up my own classical-looking dances.  I thought it was the coolest thing in the world, just the most fun ride.”  Things took a serious turn at age 9, when the pair met their guru.  “Then I was really training.  I knew I had it in me, but it’s a lot to ask of a 9-year-old.  You don’t even know the word ‘serious!’”  She danced a minimum of two hours after school and homework.  Then in preparation for her solo dance debut at age 11, she would practice two and a half hours morning and evening.  “ When you’re 11 and it’s summer break and all you want to do is swim, I was bound to my house, taking care of my legs, and practicing a lot.  I know I was very young but I was so driven towards that goal.  I wanted to get up there and show myself and others that I could dance.”  Lakshmi feels that the 12 years since that debut have been a major evolution for her as a dancer.  “At age 11, I wasn’t looking too far ahead in the future.  But every artist comes to that point in their relationship to their art form when you ask yourself, ‘Should I keep doing this?  Do I even like it any more? Is it still interesting?’  I definitely went up and down over the years, but the day after that debut is when I really began to learn about dancing.  It really comes from inside.”  Malathi adds, “She wants to be respectful of our culture and know all aspects of the culture much more now, not just for the sake of dance, but in grasping the depth of what she has received.”

Though she is proud of her cultural heritage, Lakshmi has had some challenges in synthesizing the Indian and American sides of her life.  “I have been very shy about my dancing,” she says.  “Most people who pursue this commonly perform in a talent show or show-and-tell day at school, but I never wanted to do that.  For one thing, I felt that it, in a way, burdened my friends.  There seemed to be so much to know and explain prior to a performance.  They don’t fully understand what it is they’re watching and can’t appreciate it if they don’t know the structure of the performance and the history behind it.”  Malathi interjects that though they may not fully understand, they truly love it because they are Lakshmi’s friends.  She feels that even though they don’t understand everything, they can still appreciate what they do see.  She likens their experience to her experience at a western opera.  “I understand the story, the beautiful voice, this is enough for me.”

This is but one point of friction between what Lakshmi describes as her two different identities in life.  The merging of those identities has been a major issue in her young life.  “This dance is a huge part of my Indian side.  In my American side, my activities are different.  For example, the way I dress or functions we attend or people we talk to, in an Indian context, the culture is familiar with everyone, then it’s completely different in an American context.  Those two worlds don’t really meet.  So when I invite friends to performances, it’s the first time when the worlds meet and it’s hard and awkward – nobody quite knows what to say.  Even though they see me every day, now I look different, I’m in an amazing outfit, jewelry everywhere, elaborate makeup, I’m acting like a different person.”  She pauses, then adds, “Perhaps it will get easier the more they see me like this, but in some ways I actually do like the duality of it all and I enjoy introducing people to my culture.”

In addition to dance, Malathi has become a master of nattuvangam, which is the musical instrument used by the conductor of the dance recital.  This is a very specialized musical art form.  As Malathi explains, “The conductor has to have total control over all the other musicians, the vocalist, percussionists and the dancer. They have to be on their guard like a hawk for every single fraction of a second.  It is the top most job of the ensemble.”  The conductor, called a nattuvanar, plays a small set of cymbals in exactly the same rhythm as the dancer beats out with their feet, often with a vocal recitation of this rhythm as well.  As part of their apprenticeship, Malathi has also passed on this important and complex tradition to Lakshmi.

In 1985, Malathi began to formally share her culture with the community by founding the Rangoli Foundation for Art and Culture.  At first, Rangoli was mostly house concerts, puppet shows and working in school residency programs.  Then, Malathi says, “ Dance took over and consumed me.”  She now regularly teaches 40 to 50 dance students and has a professional dance company.  Rangoli, the sand mandala, “is a welcome sign, it celebrates beauty and auspiciousness.  This inspired me to name the company Rangoli.”  Lakshmi has also assumed an active and vital role in teaching the younger students.  “She is a very different teacher than I am,” says Malathi.  “She’s very strict!  I have more of a soft edge and nurture them in a different way.  I think they benefit from both.”

And what for the future?  Lakshmi says, “Now that I’ve graduated I’d like to dedicate most of my time to dancing.  It’s always been something that was a big part of me but always on the side.  I’d like to make it more of a focus.  I’m taking a year off and thinking of going to India.  I haven’t worked this hard on dance since our teacher came in the ‘90s.  I never see myself giving this up.”  She would like to get her masters degree but is not certain in what field.  She’s currently interning in the costume design department at the L.A. Opera.

Malathi is obviously proud of her daughter and hopes she does continue with her dance.  But even if she stopped tomorrow, she knows Lakshmi has received something very valuable from this art form – something that will help her in any of her life’s pursuits.  Ancient Bharata Natyam was practiced in temples, with songs in praise of gods such as Shiva and Krishna.  Mahlathi explains, “I teach these songs with the same feeling of spirituality, to feel how you can transform yourself into that character in order to forget yourself and dance with joy.  We can approach it as art form, but imbibe it with spiritual aspects along the way.  Dance becomes a way of life, a vehicle to connect within yourself spiritually.   Each person’s way of looking at this is different.  But I want this art form to give those who practice it the strength of introspection – you need these tools.  Some people find it in music, some in meditation.  It’s the feeling that if I can accomplish this, and have that fire and that strength, I can do anything in life.”

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Celebrating Persian Culture: An Apprenticeship in Classical Persian Music

Lisa Richardson, Consulting Ethnomusicologist to ACTA (Manager, Folk and Traditional Arts Program, California Traditional Music Society).

This article is part of a series that features the work of participants in ACTA's Apprenticeship Program.

Oh, music is the meat of all who love,
Music uplifts the soul to realms above.
The ashes glow, the latent fires increase:
We listen and are fed with joy and peace.
— Rumi, “Remembered Music”

Pirayeh Pourafar sits in her kitchen, the aromatic smells of Persian cuisine wafting by, and with a quiet passion, presents the beauty and depth of her culture.  In addition to music lessons with apprentice Aiden Okhovat, this is what she wants to impart to her student: pride in and respect for the culture of Iran.  “Most Persians who come to the United States, because of the various pressures of living here, they forget their culture and how great it is to be someone and be proud of that,” she explains.  “Like any culture, we have so many great things, and we also have negative things, but the media basically portrays Persians as a bunch of terrorists – they don’t love anybody, they don’t care about anything.  But I want them to realize that this fine music, this great body of literature, this great philosophy and spirituality of Sufism, that the home of all these things is the land of Iran.”

Since Persian music is so intertwined with Persian poetry and literature, Pirayeh often gives students copies of a poem by Rumi, for example, discusses the philosophy behind it and its meaning to the music, and encourages them to ask their parents about Persian arts as well.  But with Aiden, she’s not emphasizing this aspect as much.  “His grandfather was the father of Jewish poetry in Iran, his mother is very knowledgeable about literature, and his father loves classical Persian music.  He’s being raised in a very educated family; I’m not too worried about him!”  Aiden, whose grandfather passed away three years ago, says that he was one of his main inspirations for him to start music studies.  Pirayeh is also familiar with his grandfather’s work, which adds to the comfort of their relationship as teacher and student.  Pirayeh continues, “We have our poets, Rumi, Saadi, Hafiz, and we have the privilege of being able to read them in the original language, we can go to the essence of their philosophy.  I’m sure this effects us deeply as musicians.”

Aiden is currently a senior at James Monroe High School.  After spending several years in Vienna, his family came to the United States in 1999.  Though his father also played the tar, he was self-taught and never had opportunity to take lessons.  When they came to Los Angeles, he wanted to provide this for his son, who has been studying with Pirayeh since 2001.  Aiden is very excited about being able to play the radif.  “I definitely thought it would take longer than four years!” he says. The two are planning a public performance for Aiden, perhaps with Pirayeh’s group the Lian Ensemble.  “It would be such a great honor for me to play at a Lian concert.”

Pirayeh’s journey to the U.S. took place during the turbulent years of the Revolution in Iran.  She left in 1979 with the intention of returning after she got her music degrees in Spain and from Cal Arts, but “year after year has passed, and there hasn’t been any reason for me to go back.  I have good students here, a successful ensemble.  My place is here.”  She entered the Royal National Music Conservatory of Teheran at only 9 years old, and is very grateful to have received a degree from this esteemed institution.  She also taught in Iran at the Center for Preservation of Persian Music.  But she says, “Persian music has a different meaning for me now.  Because there are so few musicians here, really only ten to fifteen in the Los Angeles area, I feel the responsibility is greater, we have to work a little harder, and I have to teach to as many people as I can.”  Even though L.A. has the largest Persian population outside of Teheran (close to 1 million), the number of professional musicians has remained relatively small.  “It is a very cohesive community and they support both traditional and popular musicians.  Of course pop music doesn’t need your intelligence, it just needs your moment!  Our music requires more of your attention and a deeper understanding of our culture.”  Pirayeh has not returned to Iran since she left 26 years ago.  In her understated way, she says, “The feeling of being away from Iran is not great.  Of course you miss your family, even the street that you were born and raised.  But whatever happens in your life, you try to deal with it, and this is another circumstance that you cannot change.”

Aiden is an exceptional young man who has easily incorporated his Persian heritage into his life as an American teenager.  “I don’t see my Persian side as something that brings me down, to be ashamed of.  For me, being ‘hip’ or ‘cool’ doesn’t mean being like everyone else, it means being an individual and original.  My close friends have heard me play tar and I’m really proud of what I do.”  He plans on studying music at Cal State Northridge, then ultimately going into law.

Whatever Aiden decides to do with his life and his music, Pirayeh will have done her part to help ground him in his cultural heritage.  She says, “When you know your roots well, then you can effectively share it with others, introducing them to the wealth of love that is the basis of so much of our philosophy.  The wealth of love, this is the essence of Persian culture, of Persian humanity.  And by knowing this you become a better musician.  I believe that as an artist, the best new ideas are born from knowing your traditional roots.  This, then, can lead to cultural fusion instead of confusion.” 

And here in West L.A., it’s clear that Persian culture is as robust and complex as the Persian tea we share.

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Bay Area Students Learn to Create a Traditional Altar in Honor of Dia de los Muertos  

Mari Pongkhamsing, ACTA

Creating a traditional altar for Dia de los Muertos is an art that requires many different skills, from the preparation of altar foods to the careful placement of altar decorations.  Last month, Bay Area students had the opportunity to learn some of these skills from master artist Herminia Albarran Romero, through a series of workshops offered at the Mission Cultural Center for Latino Arts in San Francisco.  The project was supported by ACTA’s Folk and Traditional Arts Mentorship Initiative with funding from the Walter & Elise Haas Fund. Romero is a master papel picado (the art of Mexican paper cutting) artist and altarista, from the village of San Francisco de Asis, Mexico, who recently received the prestigious National Heritage Fellowship from the National Endowment for the Arts. 

Known especially for her skills as a paper artist, Romero taught students how to make paper flowers and colorful papel picado banners.  To create papel picado banners she uses tiny surgical scissors to cut intricate symmetrical designs into carefully folded tissue paper.  Romero encourages beginners to trace their design with a pencil before they cut, though she doesn’t use this technique.  Working quickly, she draws applause from students who watch her elaborate designs emerge from a blank square of paper.  Students glue each paper square to long pieces of string which are then stretched across the ceiling. In addition to paper arts, Romero taught her students how to prepare altar foods, and took them to a local bakery to sample Pan Para los Muertos (Bread for the Dead).

Dia de los Muertos, or Day of the Dead, usually celebrated on November 1st and 2nd, is a holiday which honors and celebrates loved ones who have passed away.  In addition to papel picado, paper flowers, and Pan Para los Muertos, traditional altars often include photos of loved ones who have passed away, marigolds, sugar skulls, fruit and other foods as offerings to the deceased, and cartoneria (papier mache) sculptures.  In California, many artists have incorporated new artistic forms and expressions into their Day of the Dead altars, but the traditional knowledge that Romero shares is highly valued.

The paper flowers and banners that Romero and her students made were used to create a community altar which will be on display in the Mission Cultural Center for Latino Arts’ Dia de los Muertos Exhibit entitled "Nichos y Recuerdos: El Círculo de la Luz (Niches & Memories: A Circle of Light) through November 23, 2005.  Visit the Center’s website for more information about the altars and other Dia de los Muertos events.

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