SPECIAL FEATURE. FESTIVAL DE JEREZ 2007
FLAMENCO COURSES
A ‘spell’ por soleá
Silvia Calado. Jerez, March 2007
How flamenco dancing is learned
has always been a really intriguing matter. In 1930, the
magazine ‘Nuevo Mundo’ published a report
by journalist Rosa Arciniega de Granda entitled ‘Lo
que cuesta el aprendizaje del baile español’
(‘What it takes to learn Spanish dance’).
The experienced writer slipped into the Madrilenian studio
of maestro Román to try and discover for herself
the ‘mysteries’ of learning.
-How long does it take to
learn all this?
-It depends on each person’s
abilities. But it takes a spell for all of it. For some,
that spell is all their lives.
The maestro had already said
so: even all your life. And to prove him right, all you
have to do is slip on some shoes, with their heel, nails
and narrowness. Not even the heel-sole is easy, I assure
you. So to attest to it first hand, I infiltrated the
courses at Festival
de Jerez 2007 as a student, which is the summary of
how people from all over the world have faced, ever since
flamenco is flamenco, that “spell” which is
absorbing baile.
Rosario Toledo's
course. Festival de Jerez 2007
(Photo Daniel Muñoz)
And the thing is that this festival which
has been held for the last eleven years in this flamenco
city now receives nearly a thousand students from halfway
around the world, nearly sharing the spotlight with the
artists themselves. It isn’t normal to see an Andalusian
city today ‘under siege’ by Oriental, Mediterranean,
American or Scandinavian girls, running about here and
there until the late night hours in search of flamenco...
and many times, even wearing polka-dot skirts. I swear.
Those following the pace of the festival understand it,
since sometimes there isn’t even time to change
clothes. There are courses at ten in the morning, a circle
at one in the afternoon, courses at four, concerts at
seven, theater at nine, a concert at twelve, a peña
and dancing until dawn... For two weeks like that. So
knowing how to choose is a very effective weapon at this
festival: time, place... and course, of course.
Of the thirty-some courses offered at
this edition, yours truly clearly had to lean towards
one at the elementary level, since one has certain experience
and heel kicks to her credit, but less perseverance than
what is required. And that question of level is a serious
matter, since there are usually plenty of pupils who hold
themselves in too high esteem and end up ruining the classes
for both the instructor and the classmates who chose the
right level.
Ángel Muñoz
in the studio
(Photo Daniel Muñoz)
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It would also be better the second week,
since covering the festival, the work would be more on
the right track by then. And the time, since, necessarily
at four in the afternoon, once the review and other work
of the day had been written, once the corresponding press
conference and circle had been attended, and once having
had lunch. There would thus be time for a quick shower
and then it’s off to the seven o’clock show...
God willing. So with all of these conditions, the choice
had to be made between Ángel
Muñoz and Rosario
Toledo, between soleá and bulerías.
In need of calmness, soleá. And the instructor
had more than good references, both at the studio and
on stage. But imagine how hard it is to choose from this
faculty including many of the best maestros of this discipline,
veterans and youths alike, for every style and every level.
Matilde Coral, Manolo Marín, Merche Esmeralda,
Javier Latorre, Javier Barón, Isabel
Bayón, Rafaela Carrasco, Rafael Campallo, Mercedes
Ruiz and many more. Well, they might just as easily have
been showered with applause the night before at the Teatro
Villamarta... and now they’re in their class with
their sleeves rolled up.
At the studios on Francos Street, there
were twenty-five of us and yours truly, everyone punctual,
to have the first class on Sunday at four in the afternoon.
In the narrow dressing rooms the first greetings are exchanged...
in the most varied languages imaginable. English, French,
German, Japanese... and Spanish? No, not Spanish. Though
it’s true that there are classmates who make an
effort to speak a little of my language and the instructor’s,
it will be more the instructor and I who decide on English
to communicate with each other. Even though it’s
true that body language is universal, all that additional
information which isn’t in correspondence courses
or foreign schools is taken in better via words. “Not
so fast”. “Keep up the speed. Easy, easy”.
“With force, differentiating between the sound of
the heel and the sole”. “Like that, at the
last moment”. “Bend your legs a little”.
“Let the strength come from the back”. “And...
seven, eight, nine and ten, one, two”. Things like
that, all in English.
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Alumnas a compás
(Foto Daniel Muñoz) |
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After the inevitable introductions, headfirst
into the task. To begin with, Ángel established
the method he would follow every day. First, stretching
and warm-up. Second, repetitions based on combining the
sole, tip of the toe and heel. Third, applying technique
to the style in question; in our case, the soleá.
Fourth, putting into practice what had been learned with
live guitar and cante by Jesús Álvarez and
Anabel Rosado. Fifth, ooooohhh... passing out. Being Sevillian,
one exaggerates a bit, but these classes aren’t
for the faint of heart, no. These classes are for working
hard, for taking this matter of flamenco dancing very
seriously. That’s the premise; then afterwards each
person sets his own goal. There are those who come determined
to carry off the choreography at all cost. And the most
stubborn ones there are the Orientals, many of whom rented
a studio when the class finished to go on practicing.
There are those who come to complete their repertoire
of steps. There are those who come to capture flamenco
feeling. There are those who come to be a fan. There are
those who come to have a great time. And there are those
who moreover come to learn. As the maestro said on the
last day, “I hope you’ve learned, a little
or a great deal, each as much as you’ve been able
to, but I hope you’ve learned. I’ve learned
a lot from each of you”.
And he didn’t say “each of
you girls” because there wasn’t one but three
guys in the class. And you don’t know how very rare
that is. Normally, most of the students of these kinds
of flamenco dancing courses are women between the ages
of twenty and thirty. And in this class the majority met
that profile, but there were also older ladies and, as
I’ve said, three men. But the most unique case was
in Rosario Toledo’s class, where as she told me,
there was a ten-year-old Czech girl. Neither age, nor
sex, nor nationality. Flamenco doesn’t discriminate.
So the twenty-five and I, each of us
different, translators, sculptors, housewives, dancers
and journalists, we equally sweat, ‘suffered’
and enjoyed ourselves. Well, not completely equally, since
the size of the classroom left something to be desired
and those of us at the back had to make an extra effort
to see what was happening next to the mirror. Now then,
as soon as the instructor realized the problem, he solved
it quickly by repeating absolutely everything from the
middle to the back. But it must be said that other places
where courses are taught at the festival are quite bigger
and better lit. Some of them are delightful, like the
one set up at Bodega de Los Apóstoles, with hanging
wineskins and everything. But the growing demand is pressing...
and the offer isn’t responding.
Oh well, but the inconvenience was overcome.
And the thing is that Ángel Muñoz is able
to personalize his teaching despite the large size of
the group. (And just for the record, it isn’t ‘kissing
up’ from a satisfied student.) He’s always
attentive to each pupil, correcting him, understanding
his ability, stretching his virtues... and making him
work, physically, much more than you might believe. Especially
in the first two parts of the class. And hardly realizing
it, you were already marking por soleá.
Rosario Toledo's course. Festival
de Jerez 2007
(Photo Daniel Muñoz)
Though the aim of an elementary level
course isn’t to learn a choreography, but rather
to study the technique of a specific style, after twelve
hours we’d put together the introduction, first
lyrics, the escobilla and second lyrics. A combination
of steps, turns, stances, markings and finishes which
came up as we went along. Yeah, yeah, because what the
instructor would do during the break, when he was leaning
against the wall with his eyes shut, was to think up the
next moves. So you can understand why he asked the students
for the recording they filmed with their cameras at the
end, since that soleá was tailor-made for this
class. It didn’t use to exist.
That explains anecdotes like the one
on the fourth day, when Ángel was unable to remember
one of the steps from the day before... and after fifteen
minutes, we had not one but twenty-six versions of the
step. The scene had plenty of art. But the truth is that
there was a really relaxed atmosphere throughout the entire
course. And that’s how it’s marked by the
instructor, with a charming personality. So much so that
on the final afternoon, tears were even shed. It wouldn’t
be strange for a fan club of the beloved Córdoba-born
bailaor to stem from that class. Perhaps with its headquarters
in Brighton... where I know the maestro’s sweaty
t-shirt went inside a student’s purse. “See
you next year!”. I wish... And I wish Rosa Arciniega
were alive to register, since there’s no better
way to know what you’re writing about than by sweating
it out.
