Java, sounds like a plan. You do know however this can only be settled by a contest as to who can dance better?!

You know, of course, that your views are extremely valuable to all concerned with the Kalayathanaya and that the ‘family’ deeply appreciates your friendship and concern.

Cheers!

A similar point has been repeatedly made regarding professional actors in theatre companies as well, in that the lack of economic stability of the chosen profession leads to all manner of problems ranging from changing companies to taking up other jobs to make ends meet, which then often eat up into time otherwise spent training and rehearsing. Yet it is not just economics at play here. The ‘fetish’ I refer to manifests itself in a number of ways and is perhaps only (fully) evident to those outside the family. It is evident visually – say at the end of performances – it is evident in the manner the Kalayathanaya is run and is perceived of as a place and idea. It is evident in the lead roles and choreography. It is evident in the genuflection of the living greats in mind, as well as body. None of this is bad, of course, and par for course in the universe of this dance.

But as with any other discipline, such practices risks innovation, growth and renewal because – as Chitrasena and Vajira themselves did – it does not question the old guard, for fear or favour, and stifles the imagination. Would for example the family countenance a male dancer who brings to the Kalayathanaya a style infused with elements from Channa? What is the process of creation at the Kalayathanaya – is it really participatory, where senior students also have a voice, or is it rigidly hierarchal, where the guru – shishya demarcations risk becoming a one-way street of received learning that trumps, nay strangles creative interpretation and imagination, so vital for dance? Perhaps there is, but as an outsider, from the first day at the Kalayathanaya, I see a clear separation between what I know and love deeply the family to be, and the rest of them.

I am concerned that the optics of this divide, which as I said may only be fully evident to those outside the family, will serve to suggest that the Kalayathanaya is at the end of the day, only for family, in which they cannot, much as they would like to, write their own future. This, I stress, is not just about economics, and in no way seeks to take away from the validity of your own argument.

This is why I said that perhaps one needs to revisit Kalayathanaya as more a space and idea anchored to the expression of and excellence in dance – more than the history, location and buildings – which then takes it away the focus from family to art.

Perhaps the organisation of something along the lines of Vasanta Habba at Nrityagram, more sustained engagement with media about dance in Sri Lanka, more opportunities for discussion and debate within the Kalayathanaya amongst other practices may serve to bring in and retain the talent it needs to survive over the long-term?.

Peace,

Sanjana

I still don’t buy the ‘fetish’ number!

@Java Jones, point taken. However, I stand by the family fetish at play, and flag this in the gentlest way possible because it is vital the Kalayathanaya hears it from friends. Among other aspects, this is evident in dancers the Kalayathanaya would be far more critical of were they not family. Fundamentally, wonderful people do not always make wonderful dancers. This is not to suggest in any way a mafioso mentality, but rather to submit that in celebrating and nurturing the talent of those outside the family, the idea of the Kalayathanaya is nourished and strengthened.

Which brings me to your other point. The challenge of loyalty you flag is well put, and a tough one. I am open to the argument that it could only be through family that such loyalty is assured, but would like to believe that this is not always the case. All very good points to thrash out over some herbs and beer, because they are challenges that echo in professions outside of dance and the Kalayathanaya as well.

SH