Indra Sampranata lets us know that in this space, in this
temple, in this dance, whatever happens is sacred. We are
reminded of this as little children toddle onto the stage to
pick up the flowers strewn by a dancer, or later, offer cups
of water to the audience.
Gamelan music, a tumbling, roaring, melodious torrent of
gongs and voices and flutes and gongs and more gongs...
a dancer appears wrapped in gold, with a flowered
headdress, and carrying a small tray of flowers and
streamers. Her face is riveting, framed by trembling,
intricate hand gestures and movements interplaying with
the music. Her face, but not her face, as this is not the
expression of an ego, but of something transcendent and
profound that borrows her features for a little while,
and communicates in a deep unspoken language. It is a
welcoming dance, with suggestions of planting and
temple, in this dance, whatever happens is sacred. We are
reminded of this as little children toddle onto the stage to
pick up the flowers strewn by a dancer, or later, offer cups
of water to the audience.
Gamelan music, a tumbling, roaring, melodious torrent of
gongs and voices and flutes and gongs and more gongs...
a dancer appears wrapped in gold, with a flowered
headdress, and carrying a small tray of flowers and
streamers. Her face is riveting, framed by trembling,
intricate hand gestures and movements interplaying with
the music. Her face, but not her face, as this is not the
expression of an ego, but of something transcendent and
profound that borrows her features for a little while,
and communicates in a deep unspoken language. It is a
welcoming dance, with suggestions of planting and
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| Balinese Dance Performance in West Brattleboro - impressions of an extraordinary event at Mahalo Arts Center - Peter Barus |
| PURNAMA SARI BALINESE DANCE COMPANY |
harvesting, gathering and sharing, inclusion and celebration. It is exquisitely detailed and precise. Every part down
to the ends of fingers and toes plays a role in creating the stylized movements and gestures that transport us to
another place, another conversation, with other beings, or perhaps just with our inmost Self.
After this dance, Surapsari explains that the next dance is a celebration of kingship. This is not to be the usual
masculine display of pomp and power we might associate with monarchs, but an inner, more feminine quality of
wisdom and compassion and community.
The King appears. This is a mask dance, and the face of the King is polished, shiny white, like porcelain, with a
slight smile on his red lips. But it comes astonishingly to life, so much so that I look again to see if there are
movements in the eyes and the corners of the mouth. But it's just a twitch of the head that indicates a change in
attention or thought. My brain, observing these slight, sudden movements, adds meaning, as brains do, and the
immobile, inanimate mask becomes a mobile, living face. The King's gestures and movement convey a subtle
power that listens to the heart, and attends to his people's needs rather than his own.
An ancient temple dance with chanting in ancient Balinese follows, bringing an atmosphere of sacred presence.
The chant is penetrating and, enhanced by the movements, draws us in irresistibly to a connection
between temporal and ethereal, sacred and profane. Or so it occurred to me, with hardly any frame of reference.
The overriding impression was awe.
The Prime Minister next appears, this mask dark and severe, yet with a hint of caricature. This character's power is
more temporal, and based more on external aspects than on inner wisdom, so that the Prime Minister clearly feels
less than powerful, and displays the power he does not experience in an attitude of imperial grandiosity. He isn't
listening; he is attending to his own needs before his people's.
The next dance by Surapsari presents a scriptural tale, an epic battle between two monkey brothers that
represents Duality. She wields a fan part of the time, and a leafy branch part of the time, perhaps representing
which character we're seeing. One brother appears victorious, but in the end, universal balance is maintained.
The Old Man's dance follows. This mask is white, and aged, with a mane no white hair. The Old Man deals with all
the infirmities of age, losing hair, appealing fruitlessly to women, staggering and out of breath, and imbued with a
childlike simplicity. What is left to us in old age? Perhaps we are still worthy of veneration.
Indra Sampranata then tells of the legend that the kingdom was diseased and dying, and a character walked out of
the ocean who was scruffy and strange, but said he could heal the kingdom... this is the dance that "seals the work"
or blesses the gathering, or perhaps just springs the trap...
A peal of maniacal laughter comes from offstage... the mask is white with wild hair and bushy eyebrows and
mustache, and shockingly exaggerated protuberant teeth, set in a wide grin that is by turns hilarious and terrifying.
This character brings surprise, delight, and fear. With all the masks, one is confronted by a being that seems to ask
something indefinable, so that one is uncomfortable under its direct gaze, the urge to respond in some way almost
overwhelming. The Trickster, the Healer, the one who brings resolution, tosses flowers and money, mockingly or in
benediction, and laughs uproariously at life. Solemnity banished, self-pity and pompousness exposed and ridiculed,
we are left cleansed and renewed and restored to our authentic ways of being.
The evening was hot and muggy, and mosquitoes feasted on us. The dancers executed precise and vigorous
movements, and moved in postures that appeared effortless and graceful, but in reality are gruelling work for
the knees and arms, and particularly while wearing a mask or the yards and yards of golden silks and colorful
brocades under the heat of stage lights. The dancers showed not a trace of fatigue or exhaustion and
performed flawlessly to the very end. To most of us watching it would have been like a full day of aerobics, or a
brisk trek up one of our highest, steepest hills, on a hot August day. Yet we came away with a sense of
renewal, deep inner peace, as if we had danced along with Purnama Sari every step of the journey.
to the ends of fingers and toes plays a role in creating the stylized movements and gestures that transport us to
another place, another conversation, with other beings, or perhaps just with our inmost Self.
After this dance, Surapsari explains that the next dance is a celebration of kingship. This is not to be the usual
masculine display of pomp and power we might associate with monarchs, but an inner, more feminine quality of
wisdom and compassion and community.
The King appears. This is a mask dance, and the face of the King is polished, shiny white, like porcelain, with a
slight smile on his red lips. But it comes astonishingly to life, so much so that I look again to see if there are
movements in the eyes and the corners of the mouth. But it's just a twitch of the head that indicates a change in
attention or thought. My brain, observing these slight, sudden movements, adds meaning, as brains do, and the
immobile, inanimate mask becomes a mobile, living face. The King's gestures and movement convey a subtle
power that listens to the heart, and attends to his people's needs rather than his own.
An ancient temple dance with chanting in ancient Balinese follows, bringing an atmosphere of sacred presence.
The chant is penetrating and, enhanced by the movements, draws us in irresistibly to a connection
between temporal and ethereal, sacred and profane. Or so it occurred to me, with hardly any frame of reference.
The overriding impression was awe.
The Prime Minister next appears, this mask dark and severe, yet with a hint of caricature. This character's power is
more temporal, and based more on external aspects than on inner wisdom, so that the Prime Minister clearly feels
less than powerful, and displays the power he does not experience in an attitude of imperial grandiosity. He isn't
listening; he is attending to his own needs before his people's.
The next dance by Surapsari presents a scriptural tale, an epic battle between two monkey brothers that
represents Duality. She wields a fan part of the time, and a leafy branch part of the time, perhaps representing
which character we're seeing. One brother appears victorious, but in the end, universal balance is maintained.
The Old Man's dance follows. This mask is white, and aged, with a mane no white hair. The Old Man deals with all
the infirmities of age, losing hair, appealing fruitlessly to women, staggering and out of breath, and imbued with a
childlike simplicity. What is left to us in old age? Perhaps we are still worthy of veneration.
Indra Sampranata then tells of the legend that the kingdom was diseased and dying, and a character walked out of
the ocean who was scruffy and strange, but said he could heal the kingdom... this is the dance that "seals the work"
or blesses the gathering, or perhaps just springs the trap...
A peal of maniacal laughter comes from offstage... the mask is white with wild hair and bushy eyebrows and
mustache, and shockingly exaggerated protuberant teeth, set in a wide grin that is by turns hilarious and terrifying.
This character brings surprise, delight, and fear. With all the masks, one is confronted by a being that seems to ask
something indefinable, so that one is uncomfortable under its direct gaze, the urge to respond in some way almost
overwhelming. The Trickster, the Healer, the one who brings resolution, tosses flowers and money, mockingly or in
benediction, and laughs uproariously at life. Solemnity banished, self-pity and pompousness exposed and ridiculed,
we are left cleansed and renewed and restored to our authentic ways of being.
The evening was hot and muggy, and mosquitoes feasted on us. The dancers executed precise and vigorous
movements, and moved in postures that appeared effortless and graceful, but in reality are gruelling work for
the knees and arms, and particularly while wearing a mask or the yards and yards of golden silks and colorful
brocades under the heat of stage lights. The dancers showed not a trace of fatigue or exhaustion and
performed flawlessly to the very end. To most of us watching it would have been like a full day of aerobics, or a
brisk trek up one of our highest, steepest hills, on a hot August day. Yet we came away with a sense of
renewal, deep inner peace, as if we had danced along with Purnama Sari every step of the journey.
| Copyright © 2009 Purnama Sari Balinese Dance Company. All rights reserved. |
