How did your path into Egyptian dance begin — and what kept you on this path when it became more than just a hobby?
I’ve always loved dancing, and from a young age I began studying other styles such as Flamenco (Sevillanas in particular), Modern Dance, Funky… until at the age of 16 I enrolled in “Belly Dance” classes at the gym next to my house. I had already seen my aunt dance (she was studying Belly Dance in another city), and I loved it, but above all, I wanted to dance like Shakira!
Shortly after, my aunt Sonia returned to Asturias and I was able to take classes with her. That’s when my real journey into the depths of Oriental Dance began, over 20 years ago.
When I moved to Madrid, I continued my training and met new teachers, such as Alessandra D’Ambra and Ana Siscar, and of course I met women who shared the same love for Belly Dance—friends I still dance with today. I deeply enjoy studying, and Belly Dance has always meant constant learning for me. My fascination and knowledge kept growing. I have always kept dancing for two reasons: because it truly became something more than a hobby, almost a necessity and my way of expressing myself artistically; and because dancing has always kept me away from sadness—it places me in the present moment where only my hips exist. It’s almost like meditation, like a trance, and both my body and my mind need it.
Spain has a rich dance culture of its own. How has growing up or living there shaped your relationship with Raqs Sharqi?
Well, although they are different cultures and dances, deep down Flamenco and Raqs Sharqi share common points. In my personal opinion, and without being any kind of Flamenco expert, I feel that both disciplines—both in the way of dancing and in their music—are full of passion, spontaneity, strength, and an energy connected to the earthly and the popular, which other dances perhaps don’t have because their characteristics are different or they come from a more “academic” culture.
Also, geographically we shared space, and our ancestors lived alongside Arabs for centuries, creating cultural exchanges that have endured to this day.
You’re known for your love and study of the Golden Era. What first drew you to this period — the music, the films, the dancers?
When I began studying Belly Dance with my aunt, she first introduced me to the dancers of the Golden Era, but at that time I was more focused on the dancers of that moment, such as the Bellydance Super Stars (who are now vintage too!!). And for years, I danced within what we could call “contemporary Oriental Dance,” meaning the fashionable Raqs Sharqi of that time.
But there came a moment when, technically and stylistically, I felt stuck and frustrated. Belly Dance had become something foreign to my body and to the way I moved; I only truly enjoyed myself or felt “more like me” with more traditional styles like Baladi.
It happened that, by chance, I discovered Badriyah’s Instagram (a decisive person in my Golden Era learning and a support over many years despite the distance), and also Nisaa’s (who made me reconnect with my historian and researcher spirit). Suddenly, a whole new world in dance opened up for me, with a different, incredibly attractive and stimulating approach. So I dusted off my aunt Sonia’s old DVDs with film scenes, devoured YouTube, and started taking workshops with Badriyah.
At that moment, I had a double revelation (almost like a mystical experience!): my body reconnected with the music, and the characteristic movements of the Golden Era dancers (even though I had to learn a new technique in terms of posture, arms, etc.) seemed to emerge naturally from my body. I felt incredibly comfortable—I felt like myself. I had never felt that sensation with the Raqs Sharqi I had studied until then.
And the second revelation was that most of those dancers appeared in films—my other great passion. In other words, the two languages I understood best, dance and image, came together… and I fell in love.
Do not miss Chrystelle's talk!The Image of the "Oriental Dancer" in Western Cinema
Building on Edward Said’s concept of Orientalism, and specifically focusing on the seventh art, this presentation will journey through Western cinematography. We will pay particular attention to classic Hollywood cinema and the “star system” as well as European peplum and historical fantasy films. We will analyze various examples, from silent cinema and its portrayals of Cleopatra, through the specific case of Salome or “Salomania,” to the image of the exotic belly dancer from the 1960s onwards. Through this exploration, we will delve into different orientalist stereotypes and reflect on how the western gaze concerning the oriental dancer persists to this day.
When you watch dancers from that era, what details or “codes” do you think modern dancers often miss?
Here I’m going to be clear: authenticity and simplicity.
On the one hand, at least from a western mindset, our society rewards complexity and technical perfection, which in artistic terms often triggers an elitist and academic way of thinking, where authenticity, spontaneity, genuineness, irregularity, and imperfection are abandoned in favor of the norm, of what is dictated by the Academy/Industry—creating “mass-produced” artists who struggle to resemble the standard instead of being themselves.
Of course, the Golden Era period was also a product of its own context and responded to the fashions and dominant social class of the time, but I believe there was a less academic artistic atmosphere than today. One piece of evidence is that precisely when Egyptian folklore became institutionalized, cabaret Raqs Sharqi entered a certain decline—even earlier for traditional Egyptian dancers like the Awalim and the Ghawazi… but that’s another topic!
Which leads me to the second point: simplicity. We live in a society full of constant stimuli, where it’s hard for us to maintain concentration for more than two seconds. We’re afraid of repetition, of being boring, and so we tend (myself included) to dance fast and constantly offer new movements so as not to lose the audience’s attention—but there is no truer saying than “less is more.”
You have a background in Art History and cinema. How do these disciplines appear in your dance?
Thinking about Art History—specifically painting—it influences me greatly when it comes to finding inspiration in postures, movements, gestures, and the whole physical construction of a character that you get from contemplating different artworks.
But observing color is also very important: how each color offers certain sensations and provokes different emotions in the viewer, which you can then apply to your costume or lighting design.
As for cinema, it offers me a similar inspiration to painting, but with greater theatricality because here the images come to life. It’s also important to learn how to tell a story with your dance, as if it were a film script. So all that narrative that cinema provides is, I believe, a very useful tool for dancing.
Do you consciously “frame” your dance as if it were a film scene — thinking about lighting, composition, emotional narrative?
Absolutely! As I mentioned in the previous question, cinema inspires me when it comes to building a story and developing a specific character.
But above all, when choreographing for myself or for other dancers, I feel like a film director—and they really have a lot in common! Where are the dancers positioned in space? How and when do they enter and exit the scene? How do they relate to each other? How do they cross paths, exchange places? Where is the viewer located (who would be the camera), and therefore what frame do I choose for my dance? Does that framing change throughout my performance? What is the most dramatic moment (the equivalent of the main scene in a movie)? How do I create a crescendo? How do I manage to keep the audience’s attention from beginning to end?
Also working with silence and stillness, playing with emotions and with your body, as if you were an actress in front of the camera.
Can you recall a moment when something outside of dance — a painting, a film scene, a historical reference — directly inspired a piece of your choreography?
The problem with cinema is that I can remember many, many moments!!!
Sometimes a single scene inspires me in its entirety, and other times it’s different scenes from different films, from which I take various references.
For example, in terms of the artistic and technical language of dance, the cinema of the Golden Era inspires me greatly regarding mood and Egyptian essence.
But my dance is also shaped by the theatricality of Orientalism in Brigid Bazlen’s performance as Salome in King of Kings, mixed with the emotion and impact produced in the viewer by Al Pacino’s silent scream at the end of The Godfather Part III, where the tension lies precisely in the silence—just like in dance, where sometimes the most dramatic moment is the absence of movement, standing still on stage.
I’m also inspired by the calm of Rothko’s abstract compositions, based on the simplicity of colors and the emotions they convey—they help me, for example in a Baladi, to remain calm and dance while being fully in the present moment.
And I’m inspired by the photographs of Youssef Nabil and his idealized view of his own Egyptian culture, full of sensuality and warmth.
It all depends greatly on the style I’m going to perform, whether it’s for a large stage or something more intimate, whether it’s a tribute or a completely original composition… depending on each context, I dive more deeply into certain references or others.
There is one particular scene from El Maganin El Talata (1970) that drives me crazy and has inspired me countless times! Of course, I love Soheir Zaky’s dancing, but also the context, the completely fantastic laboratory set, the psychedelic proposal, and how fun the sequence is.
Is there a specific song or musical moment that always brings out your most authentic movement?
Chaka Chiko by Baligh Hamdi (1989)… it truly takes me to another universe and my body moves inevitably. It’s a moment of real intimacy with myself, which is why I have never danced it in public.
If you could create a dream project that mixes dance, cinema, and art history — what would it look like?
What a difficult question!! I would really have to think about it carefully, but I would love to film a kind of movie/performance in which the different stereotypes and visions of the Oriental Dancer are represented. A journey through the history of Oriental Dance, blending reality and fantasy, and showing how—depending on the historical moment, the context, and different cultural gazes—the myth of the Belly Dancer has been constructed.