Research and Dance

 

OK, I promised that I would talk about my entries once all was said and done. I’ll start with some entries that really cannot be shown in a photograph, per se – Dance , and Composition: research. 

 

In the 1990’s, a new discovery went public. In a very small town outside of London, a manuscript was discovered containing music and dance descriptions from Tudor England. In the world of dance scholarship, this is a MUNDO HUGE deal, as it is the earliest known set of distinctly ENGLISH dance choreographies that we now have. That is the good news. The bad news is, the manuscript is hugely incomplete. Like a very, very annoying Rosetta Stone, the manuscript lists over 90 names of dances, lists around 30 different choreographies, probably 20-something music scores, leading to a total overlap of about 8 or 9. ARGH! SUCH a tease! Out of the original 90, we have less than 10 complete dances. Needless to say, the ones for which we have both music and steps, SCA people have pretty much thoroughly reconstructed the dances and are doing them on a fairly regular basis. But what about the other stuff?

 

My performance and research paper involved a dance for which we had only the steps. It is known by two names in the manuscript – “Roty Ioly Ioy” or “Rawty”. In and of itself, there is not a lot that one can do with just the very, very raw step description. However, the title itself gave me a huge springboard. Backing up a little bit, my study of dance involves several styles of historical dance, but my biggest interest is 15^th century Italian. My absolute favorite 15^th century Italian dance is known as the “rostibolli gioiso.” The Rostibolli was an extremely popular dance in Italy that actually survived in many incarnations, appearing with slightly different titles and variations in steps in different countries in the 15^th century. In fact, we have more than one version in Italy, a German version, and a French version. Is it much of a leap (no pun intended) to think that the English might also have a version? 

 

Taking the overall floor-pattern of the Italian version, I used the step descriptions from the Rawty to flesh out the dance and give it some penache. And working with the wonderfully talented Finella, we ended up with complimentary black-dots-on-a-page in the right style. Is the dance the exact same thing danced by the English under the reign of Henry VII? No one will ever know for certain. But is a very, very possible incarnation of the dance, and absolutely within the realm of what *could have appeared* at the time. And for me, the real magic happened as I was teaching my performance crew the dance. The first time I saw it performed in front of me in its entirety, I got kinda teary, I must admit. Sure, I envisioned it in my head. And yes, the dancers did exactly what I saw in my head. But actually seeing it performed gave me something new – it wasn’t just *technically correct* or *matching the manuscript steps.* Instead… it was… pretty! It was a very pretty, and very sweet little dance. And for me, THAT was the magic. Here we had something new that was cool, and different and fun. Yet, it wasn’t new. It was old – very old – five hundred years old. But here it was, new and alive, and bringing about smiles just as it hopefully did so long ago. That right there – THAT is the victory.

 

Is it technically correct? Yes. Is it reconstructed in a probable manner? Absolutely. But going beyond dance theory and scholarly geakiness is what will ultimately be the most important thing – it is a fun and sweet little dance that is now accessible. I think people will enjoy it, and I really, really hope it catches on. 

Pentathlon

As the mist crept up over the distant mountains, and my husband brought me a cup of coffee, I

 

DARN you Finella! Darn you to Heck! Now I need a new opening to my story! :-)

 

This past weekend boasted Caidan Pentathlon/Arts and Sciences Faire. For those of you who are saying, “Huuuuhhh? What the heck does THAT mean, Guppy?”, picture if you will something like a county faire. Now throw in the added element that all entries must be of a historical context, and documented as such, and you have a fairly good idea of what this is all about. Over 300 entries were registered. I have no clue how many actually made it, but I would guestimate about 200 or so. 

 

Arts and Sciences fairs are, for me, one of the absolutely highlights of the SCA. While getting an entry ready can be taxing, and judging can be grueling, it is hard to describe the excitement that I feel when I walk into a room full of entries on display. It isn’t *quite* the same feeling that a child has when walking into Toys R Us, but it is close. In every direction, Items of Coolness glisten. And for A.D.D.-boy like myself, my brain goes on synapse-overload. “OOOH! OOOH! Look over there! It is a knitted and patterned pillow! It is beautiful! It is gorgeous! It is…OOH!!! OOH! Look over THERE! Gorgeous illumination with gilding!!!!! So pretty! So shiny!!! So….OOOH! OOH! Over there!!!! Check out the carvings! They are so…” you get the point. 

 

A&S fairs are just magical to me – they really are. Seeing all of these beautiful and new items, many of which really could qualify as museum replicas, it is humbling to think that these aren’t cranked out by machines. Somebody MADE these. Some amateur-historian MADE these items. Most people might just read about such things or learn about them by visiting a museum. But over here, we’re actually doing it. And that is really cool.