TOROBAKA: Multicultural Communication-Creation

TOROBAKA: Multicultural Communication-Creation

This paper was the final assignment for my Asian Dance class at Saint Mary's College of California. Having studied flamenco dance for about a year, my professor recommended I take a look at TOROBAKA by Akram Khan and Israel Galván. I utilize the Strand model, which examines sound, design, performers, choreographers, and space, to analyze the collaborative work. Before my analysis, I provide historical context on Kathak, Flamenco, Akram Khan, and Israel Galván. From there, I comment on the shared roots of both dance forms and discuss how the piece is an experiment in multicultural exchange and potentially a mirror for the current world.

TOROBAKA: Multicultural Communication-Creation

On June 2^nd, 2014, flamenco and kathak met (not for the first time) in the Maison de la Culture de Grenoble, more commonly known as MC2. The work was called TOROBAKA and was created by Akram Khan, a self-proclaimed “contemporary kathak” dancer (Chakravorty 128), and Israel Galván, a cutting-edge contemporary flamenco dancer and choreographer. The dance work offers the audience a look into “the differences and similarities between the disciplines of Indian kathak and Spanish flamenco. It’s an evening of pure, exhilarating dance that displays wonderfully their artistry as performers” (Gray 1). Of course, the piece required months of creation and rehearsal, as the documentary on the process “TOROBAKA / Akram Khan & Israel Galván - Enter the Arena Documentary” explains. Khan and Galván first met in London, England to play with their two different forms. The next step in making the piece led them to Barcelona, Spain. Here the pair started making a structure for the work and solidified their choice in musicians. Finally, Khan and Galván met in Grenoble, France to crystalize the work before its premiere. As I previously mentioned, TOROBAKA is not the first instance of what many call “kathamenco” (a fusion of kathak and flamenco). However, this piece is unique in that both artists fall outside of the “classical” category. Khan has intense training in both kathak and modern/contemporary dance, making his choreography a highly unique and personal blend of various dance traditions. Galván, on the other hand, has only trained in flamenco. However, he learned the form from his parents, who were both flamenco bailaores, and has been making avant-garde flamenco work since 1998. As a result, these two artists push the boundaries in both of their art forms, causing TOROBAKA to be an atypical “kathamenco” piece. Thus, I will examine the work with the Strand model to support my conclusion that TOROBAKA is a multicultural work that investigates the exchange between two connected but separate dance traditions as a larger symbol for our increasingly multicultural society.

Before I discuss TOROBAKA, I will briefly provide context around multiculturalism, kathak, Akram Khan, flamenco, and Israel Galván. There is a common belief that multiculturalism signifies something that “copy and pastes” elements from different cultures into an artistic work. However, multiculturalism actually deals with “a diversity of languages in performance and among the audience” (Hughes-Freeland 17). Members who have received advanced training and understand the cultural meanings and implications of the movements they practice share and collaborate with other similar artists in multicultural works. Interculturalism, on the other hand, “refers to practices which reproduce and represent relations of cultural domination, rather than balanced dialogues between cultural performance practices. Cultural complexity tends to be lost in the implied homogeneity of phrases like “interculturalism” (Hughes-Freeland 17). Intercultural works tend to diminish the cultural hybridity of the choreographer’s identity and offer more of a surface level exchange. Nevertheless, multiculturalism allows for a complexity within and between each dance tradition. Consequently, because both artists explore within their own dance forms and offer a deep and explorative exchange between each form, TOROBAKA is a multicultural work.

Kathak, which played a major role in TOROBAKA, is one of the eight classical Indian dance forms. This dance tradition is especially focused on narrative; “the meaning of kathak derives from Kathaka, the word for storyteller. Kathak was developed in northern India, where the religions of both Hinduism and Islam are practiced. Kathak was created in parallel with the philosophical ideas and spiritual traditions of these religions” (Smith 83). Kathak movement is characterized by strong, straight lines, fluid hand gestures, an up right upper body, complicated rhythms made by foot percussion (which are augmented by bells worn around the dancer’s ankles), many turns, and high speeds. Many people, specifically Muslim women, have been excluded from the official history of kathak in favor of “the establishment of the lineage of Bindadin Maharaj of Lucknow gharana as the most prestigious Kathak gharana, with Birju Maharaj, the son of Acchan Maharaj, and the nephew of Shambu Maharaj, as its most authentic torchbearer and ultimate authority and guru” (Chakravorty 121). Akram Khan, in fact, is part of the Lucknow lineage: his instructor, Sri Pratap Pawar, was a student of Birju Maharaj.

Although Akram Khan was born in London, England in 1974, his Bangladeshi parents made sure that he spoke Bangla at home, practiced Bengali folk dancing, and took Kathak classes starting at the age of seven. Thus, kathak is one of the main roots of his dance practice. However, he also grew up in London in the 1980s. Consequently, he was influenced by the pop culture of the time, which included Bruce Lee movies and Michael Jackson’s music videos. As a result, “Khan expresses a unique movement vocabulary, a result of cultural hybridity” (Smith 83). In his work he explores both “western” and “eastern” concepts through a hybrid eastern-western choreographic style. Furthermore, Khan does not treat his various roots as separate entities; he does not showcase kathak vocabulary and then switch abruptly to modern dance steps. Instead, the two forms are integrated into all of his choreography because they are fully integrated within his body; thus, Khan shows a fluidity of identity through his choreography.

Like kathak, flamenco also has its roots in northern India. The Romani people originally came from northern India and migrated to various parts of Eurasia, including the Iberian Peninsula in about 1100. From then on, Romani communities had a very large influence on flamenco. For example, they brought the polyrhythms and percussive footwork from Indian dance forms to Spain where it mixed with the musical and dance traditions of the 700-year-long Islamic rule of Spain (711-1492) and the Jewish population on the peninsula. Thus, flamenco is, in and of itself, a dance form with various roots. Between the 1400s and the 1800s, these many influences converged into what we know today’s as flamenco. In the 1400s, Romani people started to hold the first zambras [Romani dance celebrations] in the Iberian Peninsula (Atencia Doña 140). However, the technique did not start to form until the mid to late 1800s. Before then, flamenco served as entertainment, and formal training did not exist for music or dance. By the mid-19th century, academies were formed, as well as cafés that featured semi-professional dancers. While the technique was crystalizing, there was still a divide between female and male movement at this time. Generally, women danced more with their arms, heads, and hips, while men got to show off their skills in footwork (Atencia Doña 145). Still, what we generally consider traditional flamenco technique solidified in the early 1900s. To begin, flamenco was finally exhibited in theaters as “high art.” Because of this “choreography became the most important element of flamenco (Atencia Doña 146).” Thus, the art of flamenco became dependent on the dancer and the choreographer. Also, as a result of the move to theaters, flamenco companies started choreographing for large ensembles. Up until this point, flamenco was performed either as a solo, duet, or at most a quartet. Viewers never really saw a large group perform flamenco until the 1900s. In the 1920s, the technique became even more complicated; the legs, hips, ribcage, and arms gained even more range and emotional power, while jumps, turns, and traveling throughout the space became part of the flamenco technique canon. It is during this time that flamenco really pushed for virtuosity: the dancers fought to make more complicated rhythms, speed up their footwork, and include spectacular movements (like jumps and turns). This trend continued throughout the 20^th century with a great push towards experimentation in movement and gendered movement after the fall of the dictatorship in 1975 thanks to artists like Antonio Gades and Cristina Hoyos.

It is from this tradition that Israel Galván learned flamenco. The artist was born in Seville, Spain in 1973 to flamenco-dancing parents José Galván and Eugenia de los Reyes. While Galván was not trained in modern dance like Khan, he still prioritizes experimentation within his dance form—flamenco. In 1998, Galván created his own dance company and has been making avant-garde works since then. He is known for playing with sound elements in his pieces. For example, in one of his newer works, La fiesta (2017), he incorporates Gregorian chants, “Byzantine polyphonies, cante jondo, Arab-Andalusian songs, and onomatopoeias” (https://www.theatredelaville-paris.com). He also subverts musical standards by having the musicians bang on a table covered in metal coins in place of the traditional flamenco cajón (or sound box). Furthermore, the cantaores play non-traditional roles in his works: in La fiesta, the singers regularly participate in movement, so much so that one can be seen crawling on the floor while singing an operetta. However, his experimentation does not end with sound; he subverts traditional costuming as well as the traditional treatment of gendered movement. Oftentimes, Galván can be seen wearing tiny shorts, a corset, or a carnation in his hair. Additionally, his choreography features sensual hip sways and curved positions normally executed by female flamenco dancers. Although Galván’s flamenco practice may not be culturally hybrid, he is certainly just as invested as Akram Khan in pushing the boundaries of his dance form.

Because both choreographers are invested in experimentation, TOROBAKA already subverts past “kathamenco” pieces. The piece opens “with Galván and Khan sitting barefoot within a circle of light, both dressed in black thigh-length shirts [traditional Indian kurtas] and trousers and surrounded by five singers and musicians. The pair rise, hold up their arms and push their hands together. Then, moving quickly about the circle, Khan and Galván cover each other’s mouth with a hand or press their foreheads together; the air is filled with the sound of tinkling bells and rhythmic stamping” (Gray 1). The opening image is significant because it places the two creators on an equal level. To begin, they are both dressed the same, however, Galván has his sleeves rolled up while Khan wears them long. They instantly establish a shared status, while still maintaining their individuality. Furthermore, the five musicians in the background are also dressed in all black, each changing the costume slightly to match their personality. There is an air of community through variation established just by the costuming of the piece. Additionally, the first part of the piece features both of the dancers without their sound-making elements—Galván’s flamenco shoes and Khan’s bells. It is as though the dancers are starting at the origins of kathak and flamenco, respectively. By this I mean that, before flamenco and kathak became what they are today, they started from people dancing, creating, sharing, and formalizing. It was only later external elements, like shoes and bells, were added. While these elements are very important to both dance forms, they do not make up the core of either dance tradition. So, by starting TOROBAKA without bells or shoes, Khan and Galván alluded to the idea that they were trying to get at the core of their own dance practices to then exchange and mutate them.

The treatment of music also displayed the multicultural approach to TOROBAKA. Khan and Galván worked with five different musicians: David Azurza, Bobote, Christine Leboutte, B C Manjunath, Bernhard Schimpelsberger. These artists come from various musical traditions. For example, David Azurza (a Spaniard) and Christine Leboutte (a Belgian) were trained in classical Western music, such as opera and choral music. However, Bobote, another Spaniard whose real name is José Jiménez Santiago, brings his traditional flamenco training to the production. Bernhard Schimpelsberger (a British-Austrian drummer) and BC Manjunath (an Indian percussionist) have trained to accompany kathak movement. Each of these musical artists brought unique and culturally specific abilities to TOROBAKA. In fact, in the documentary, Khan explains that he and Galván wanted to choose more radical and non-traditional musicians for their show. The pair had played around with the idea of using guitars and other instruments, but they decided that this would overshadow the rhythmic exchange that takes place within the choreography. Thus, Khan and Galván chose three vocalists and two percussionists to help cultivate an intricate interchange of multiple rhythms. Although Bobote, Bernhard Schimpelsberger, and BC Manjunath are trained to accompany flamenco and kathak respectively, it is in their encounter with other artists that a multicultural treatment of sound happens. Through simultaneous rhythms, the audience discovers a link between the different ways of marking rhythm in both flamenco and kathak. For example, Bobote yells out various syllables, like “triqui tran,” to mark the rhythm. This mimics the beat-keeping sounds of kathak, like ta, thei, and tut for example. Clapping and yelling is also a very big part of both musical traditions. The singers offer up different rhythms to Khan and Galván while they are performing to further complicate the rhythm the two dancers are creating.

Additionally, the audience can identify the classic gritos, or shouts, that add an air of passion to the art form. Along with his yells, the quality of Bobote’s voice helps ground the flamenco aspects of TOROBAKA. He has the characteristic flamenco voice, which has been jokingly described as only achievable through a night of heavy smoking, drinking, and partying. Bobote’s voice is rough and sonorous, communicating that the piece certainly deals with flamenco. Still, kathak has an equally strong presence. The tabla drums, played by BC Manjunath, are just as distinctive as the flamenco voice. The sound of the drums has equal domain over the oral atmosphere of the piece. Nevertheless, this seemingly equal duo-cultural environment is complicated by the Western choral music. Realistically, this musical tradition does not wholly belong to either Khan or Galván. While the flamenco dancer was born and raised in the western world, flamenco should not be considered a fully european art practice. For most of the Middle Ages, Spain was under Islamic rule and had strong Jewish and Romani influences. Consequently, the core identity of flamenco was also created at this time and thus draws its identity more from medieval Islamic, Jewish, and Romani traditions rather than European ones even though Spain is geographically a part of Europe. Similarly, Khan grew up in England in a Bangladeshi household. While England as a country participated in creating the aesthetics of classical European art traditions (and forcefully implementing them globally), Khan does not have any ethnic ties to opera music. It seems like flamenco and kathak music traditions make a more natural pair than either of them with choral music. So, a very complicated musical environment is created just by the musicians.

Yet, it is not only the five musicians who create sound. Galván and Khan can be considered musicians as well because their movement creates sound, which is an integral aspect of TOROBAKA. Even without shoes and bells, Khan and Galván still create sound. For example, they slap and pound different parts of their feet into the floor. They also slap their bodies, slap each other’s bodies, and perform intricate clapping rhythms. I believe this goes back to the idea of experimenting from the core of their dance forms. In the beginning of the piece, Khan and Galván show themselves stripped of the most characteristic elements of their dance styles: shoes and bells. These elements are key to both flamenco and kathak because they help the dancer emphasize the rhythms their body creates. However, these are not the defining elements of these two dance forms. Obviously, these external elements help the viewer identify what is flamenco and what is kathak in general, but specifically in TOROBAKA. The piece starts from an exploration of the core personality of both kathak and flamenco, and a simultaneous exchange between the two. However, as TOROBAKA continues, the lines between the two dance traditions start to blur. Both Khan and Galván in the documentary “Enter the Arena” admit that there are ambiguous moments. While the choreography gets muddled in terms of what exactly each step is, these elements help anchor the viewer in the two dance traditions. There is no doubt that Khan and Galván are pushing the boundaries of their dance practices, but it is important to note that, regardless of this, they are still working within their respective trainings. Thus, Khan and Galván can explicitly mark their dance traditions through bells and shoes, respectively.

As Khan stated in the documentary about TOROBAKA, the piece involved “finding something that both worlds had in common” (TOROBAKA / Akram Khan & Israel Galván - Enter the Arena Documentary). Although the two dance traditions share geographic roots, they have evolved into separate and distinct forms. However, I believe TOROBAKA seems to be a sort of translation project. Both Khan and Galván are expressing similar ideas but through different languages. Thus, there seems to be a shared conceptual impetus for their movement, but the form it takes is quite different in each performer. Due to the topical differences of their language, the shapes created often do not “match,” but there is still a deeper sense of understanding between their movements. Jonathon Gray seems to capture this varied yet shared aspect of TOROBAKA in his review of the piece for Dance Times: “There is as much contrast in their physical types as there is in the competitive nature of their dancing – the tall and skinny Galván flexes and stretches his gangly limbs and nimbly digits, whilst Khan’s smaller and more compact body is taut with concentrated power. Jointly, however, their movements also suggest a shared dance heritage, their stamping feet, dazzling spins and twisting arm and hand gestures seeming to uncover artistic roots that emerge from deep within the same source” (Gray 1).

The extreme skills that Khan and Galván have in their respective styles also lead to a sort of competitive atmosphere. Both dancers are fully capable of creating highly complex rhythmic patterns and executing them perfectly. Thus, TOROBAKA has moments of friendly competition. For example, in one section, Galván dances alone for about a minute showing off his spectacular zapateados, turns, and jumps. Khan then rushes to center stage to respond to Galván with his own skills. Khan creates equally complicated rhythms with his feet as he turns with amazing speed and executes upper body choreography with great power and efficiency. After about a minute of Khan’s solo, Galván joins him and they take turns creating movement while facing each other. It is important to note that for the majority of the piece Khan and Galván direct their movement towards each other. Even if they are not directly facing each other, they are always dancing as a response to each other. This exemplifies the meaning of TOROBAKA: for exchange to happen, people need to acknowledge each other. From this exchange innovation can happen because people are exposed to new ideas. While Khan does not try to suddenly dance flamenco and Galván does not try his hand at kathak, the two start to experiment more within their own forms because they are in the process of exchanging with another dancer and his traditions. They do not ever ignore the other dancer while onstage because they are creating something together.

Creation is another key aspect of TOROBAKA. As I mentioned, both artists are known for pushing the boundaries of their respective dance forms. Thus, by interacting with a new dance style, both Khan and Galván were able to really dive into experimentation within their dance practices. Neither dancer/creator performs “pure” flamenco nor kathak throughout the piece. There are moments of “contemporary” kathak and “contemporary” flamenco. Meaning, each artist played around with their set dance traditions to create a new interpretation of flamenco and kathak. However, there were also moments that seem to fall outside of what we know to be kathak and flamenco. Both Khan and Galván acknowledge this. Khan is tentative to call these moments “new” creations. Instead, he opts for “unique” because they go beyond what kathak, flamenco, and kathamenco have done in the past. Perhaps it is this step beyond conventions that makes TOROBAKA an example of a multicultural work.

There is one section in the piece that exemplifies the multiculturalism of Khan and Galván’s creation. In this section the two take turns going to center stage to perform quick solos. The music, at this point, is a mix between the sounds of kathak (ta, thei, taka) and counting to five in Spanish. It is in this hybridized musical atmosphere that Galván and Khan take turns essentially showing off. In these solos Galván plays with his physical capabilities. He moves quickly from astounding zapateados to high jumps that land in deep lunges. He showcases his great rhythmic capabilities while playing with the traditional form of flamenco. For example, there are several instances in which his upper body is oriented towards the floor; at one point his chest is almost parallel to the floor. This is very unusual in flamenco because the upper body is supposed to be held high, with the chest forward to show bravado. In fact, even the head is often oriented slightly upwards. The lower body needs to be very grounded to achieve the astonishing speed characteristic of flamenco footwork, but the upper body is almost never directed towards the floor. So, in his solos Galván shows off his technical and creative skills. Every time he is done dancing, he gestures to Khan with friendly competition. Khan also performs solos that play with the conventions of kathak. At times his movements are very traditional; he creates the strong, straight lines typical of kathak. In these moments Khan’s upper body is strong and held. He does not articulate his spine. However, as soon as the audience thinks they understand where his solos are going, Khan offers up an upper body roll. As he spokes his arms out with great speed and efficiency (a very typical movement in kathak) his spine is fluid and he is in a deep lunge. Because Khan has integrated the different dance trainings he has received into his body, his choreography is a cultural hybrid. Intricate footwork accompanies an almost hip-hop style of moving his upper body. Like Galván, Khan plays with convention and experimentation.

After the series of solos, Khan and Galván dance together again. The audience can clearly see a correspondence between the two performers. For example, Khan circles his arms above his head, which initiates Galván to perform a similar but ultimately different circling of his arms above his head. Again, it seems like the two performers are thinking of the same idea, but communicate it in unique ways due to their dance training and cultural upbringing. If Khan spokes his arms to the side, Galván shoots them to the ceiling. There seems to be a sort of subconscious communication between the two, even though they are performing two very different dance forms. After this pattern builds to a crescendo, Khan and Galván both hit a pose with the strong accent in the music. The music dies down slightly as the two dancers hold their positions. Then, the counting to five in Spanish returns and the pair starts clapping and walks to center stage. Their meeting in the center initiates a call and response in both movement and music. Again, the dancers take turns demonstrating their technical skills while the music switches between counting to five in Spanish and “thei ta taka.” Khan and Galván’s movement at this moment involves attempting to balance on one leg, doing very complicated footwork, jumping, lunging, and moving with great speed. However, the two eventually combine their skills and perform the same rhythmic footwork, Galván with his shoes and Khan with his bells. While still keeping within the zapateado, the two dancers touch their foreheads together—they literally go head to head, which calls to mind an image of two bulls (or toros in Spanish) butting heads and interlocking horns. From this they turn their bodies in circles while still maintaining this point of contact. After breaking apart, Khan and Galván build the dynamic of the piece as they urge each other to push their technical and creative boundaries: they flash dazzling, rapid turns, high jumps, and lightning speed footwork. The two tend to maintain eye contact during this section. And, even when they do not, their movement is still directed at each other. We get the sense that they are on stage to share with each other and with the audience. The section ends with the two of them facing upstage with their hands placed at the smalls of their back. Within this shared position, though, there is still individuality and variance. Galván’s fingers are pressed together while Khan spreads his out. This is so representative of TOROBAKA as a whole. Khan and Galván are dancing from the same idea, but because their movement languages are different the form changes between the two of them. Nevertheless, they are saying the same thing, but speaking a different language. Consequently, the final choreographic product is similar and different.

In the documentary, Israel Galván explained that he learned a lot through the process of TOROBAKA. Of course, he learned about technical aspects like “a new speed of moving and a new rhythmic language.” However, he mentions that he learned a great deal about humanity as well. Khan echoes this statement by saying that certain parts of the process were “very challenging, but beautiful” because he was working with Israel and his dance style made him feel vulnerable. Nevertheless, from this place of discomfort, they were both able to exchange their (amazing) skills and create a unique aesthetic from two different traditions (TOROBAKA / Akram Khan & Israel Galván - Enter the Arena Documentary). Khan also goes into detail about the purpose of TOROBAKA. It is about exchanging ideas. While there is an air of competition, the two dancers/creators did not aim to show a competition between their dance forms. Instead, the idea was to share their energy with each other to see what the other could do with it. Essentially, TOROBAKA was a way to inspire each other to create through a cultural encounter.

Furthermore, Khan said that “the idea of better means the piece is gone. Instead, if Israel succeeds, then I succeed” (TOROBAKA / Akram Khan & Israel Galván - Enter the Arena Documentary). I believe that their purpose for TOROBAKA comes from the increasingly multicultural world we live in. Both England and Spain are continuing to experience an influx of people from different cultural and ethnic backgrounds. Thus, there are two ways a person could react: rejecting everything that is not familiar, or attempting to learn about others and their ways of life. While the latter can be very difficult to do and realistically never leads to “peace and love,” it is still important to try. I would add also that an important step is to recognize and take ownership of the harm that has been enacted on one culture from another; while TOROBAKA does not really make space for this part of the discussion, it is integral to moving towards equity in our increasingly multicultural societies. Embracing the multicultural make-up of one’s community is “typically viewed as an avenue to overcome and facilitate difference and alter power dynamics within social or national structures” (Kolb 231). Through the creative process of TOROBAKA, Khan and Galván learned about a dance form that was not their own. However, they also learned about how each culture communicates through dance. Galván claims that the piece takes audience members to a place in which people see each other, listen to each other, and respect each other. The reason Khan and Galván could show off their talents was because they created a piece that held space for both of their cultural dance heritages. One form was not given more importance or prominence. Instead, Khan and Galván worked on really understanding each other so that they could create a correspondence between their movements. They never simply mirrored each other or moved in unison which would have inherently erased one culture in favor of the other. However, they were deeply, perhaps subconsciously, connected to each other. Again, they were both saying the same things, just in different languages, without pressure to change but still holding space for understanding.

Works Cited

Atencia Doña, Lidia. 2015. “Desarrollo histórico y evolutivo del baile flamenco: de los bailes de candil a las nuevas tendencias en el baile flamenco.” Revista de Investigación Sobre Flamenco, no. 12 (December): 139–53. https://stmarys-ca.idm.oclc.org/login?url=http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=ibh&AN=113075395&site=ehost-live&scope=site.

Chakravorty, Pallabi. “Dancing into Modernity: Multiple Narratives of India’s Kathak Dance.” Dance Research Journal 38 / 1 & 2 summer / winter 2006, pg. 115-136.

Company, Akram Khan. “TOROBAKA / Akram Khan & Israel Galván - Enter the Arena Documentary.” YouTube, YouTube, 17 Feb. 2017, www.youtube.com/watch?v=tK_wbNvtfXE.

Gray, Jonathan. “Torobaka.” Dancing Times, vol. 105, no. 1252, p. 46. EBSCOhost, stmarys-ca.idm.oclc.org/login?url=http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=edswah&AN=000345547000017&site=eds-live. Accessed 24 Mar. 2019.

Hughes-Freeland, Felicia. “Cross-Dressing Across Cultures: Genre and Gender in the Dances of Didik Nini Thowok.” Asia Research Institute, Working Paper Series No. 108.

“Israel.” Théâtre De La Ville De Paris, www.theatredelaville-paris.com/en/les-artistes/details/israel-galvan.

Kolb, Alexandra. “Akram Khan, Lloyd Newson, and the Challenges of British Multiculturalism” Dance Research, vol. 36, no. 2, Nov. 2018, pp. 224–252. EBSCOhost, doi:10.3366/drs.2018.0239.

Smith, Lucy. “‘In-between Spaces’: An Investigation into the Embodiment of Culture in Contemporary Dance.” Research in Dance Education, vol. 9, no. 1, Apr. 2008, pp. 79–86. EBSCOhost, doi:10.1080/14647890801924725.