Belén Maya “Dibujos”
Thursday, Novemeber 9th, 2006. 8:30pm. Muziekgebouw aan het IJ, Amsterdam.

Complete Program

Text: Estela Zatania

Dance: Belén Maya. Cante: Rosario la Tremendita, Jesús Corbacho. Guitar: José Luis Rodríguez. Palmas: Ana Calí, Vanesa Coloma. Violín: Volker Dmitienco.

“First Dutch Biennial of Flamenco”. Even in writing the words seem to resound with all the weight of the historic event which it is. Flamenco festivals abroad have long existed, from the first discreet New York Flamenco Festival in 1969, to the current festivals in Nimes, Toulouse and Mont-de-Marsans in France, or regularly scheduled events in England, the U.S., Germany, Italy and Japan among other places. But that a relatively small northern country, with a flamenco following that goes back a couple of decades at the most (we know that the Catalonian dancer José de Udaeta was giving workshops in Spanish dance and castanets in Amsterdam in the eighties), that they go so far as to call it a flamenco “biennial” and aspire, as a spokeswoman for the organization explains, to being as big as the Seville festival, leaves little doubt as to the dynamic globalization of flamenco. If great opera singers are not always Italian, and the best classic ballet dancers are not necessarily Russian, the time has come to assimilate the fact that in the not too distant future authentic stars of flamenco will be coming from a variety of countries. This, when in the bars and backrooms of Jerez and elsewhere people are still discussing which local neighborhood can do flamenco and which can’t.

Spurring an interest in flamenco that goes beyond the “tambourine and polkadots syndrome”

For the time being, this nascent following is focused on dance, and on experimental mixtures with other kinds of music, two areas of flamenco with an ample margin for rapid growth and evolution. In this context Belén Maya, whose recital last night opened the series of shows, couldn’t be left out. The daughter of Mario Maya and Carmen Mora, saturated with flamenco ambience and dance since her birth which took place while her parents were touring the U.S., discovered a taste for the avant-garde based on tradition, very early on. She has developed an unmistakeable style with geometric postures, surprising details with the bata de cola and other accessories and work that pushes the limits of the establishment while paying homage to the most classic kind of flamenco. It’s a delicate balance many individuals are now seeking, with mostly irregular success. Belén Maya does for female flamenco dance, what Israel Galván does for the men. Like a seer who views what lies beyond, she reveals a universe of possibilities that were there all along. Her image on the festival’s poster is highly symbolic: like a butterfly shedding its cocoon, crouching with spread arms (or are they wings?), she is shown pulling off a bulky ruffled dress to be reborn as a modern dancer.

Belén Maya (photo: Rafael Manjavacas)

It was a thirty-something crowd, culturally sophisticated in the designer jeans sense, that gathered at the Muziekgebouw aan het IJ to see “Dibujos” which was recently presented in Seville at “the other Bienal”. Holland has always been a receiver of diverse influences, and here flamenco is viewed as just another world music, without the superficial baggage acquired by tourists from other countries on summer holiday in Torremolinos. Or at least that’s the goal of the festival’s organizers, to spur an interest in flamenco that goes beyond the “tambourine and polkadots syndrome”.

Like a seer who views what lies beyond, she reveals a universe of possibilities that were there all along

The magnitude of this event has required the presence of Bibiana Aido, director of the Agencia para el Desarrollo del Flamenco, that helped sponsor the festival. With a nearly packed house (capacity: 750), Belén Maya appeared in a black bata de cola to scribble a few notes on a blackboard, the same beginning we saw in Jerez and Seville. The show has evolved discreetly but favorably over the months. It has shed some excess intellectualism in favor of a laid-back presentation that lets Belén’s charisma shine through. The voices, different from what we’re accustomed to, belong to La Tremendita and Jesús Corbacho, and guitar accompaniment is provided by the undervalued José Luis Rodríguez. A fantasy choreography to Bach’s Chaconne, a rondeña (María Maya did wonders for the rondeña), the two girls who do palmas incorporating cute tricks, and with each number we are brought closer and closer to flamenco, with the corresponding audience reaction. People who might not be able to tell one palo from another feel the attraction of the compás, that flamenco elixir that summons the duendes.

Jesús Corbacho sings some slow bulerías without guitar, sober and weighty, with very little illumination, and the palmas are barely audible. The lack of sledge-hammer compas, implied but not declared, is like an orgasm postponed, and it hurts just as good – will this audience know how to appreciate it? The answer isn’t long in coming with enthusiastic applause and the first shouts of “ole!”

If other contemporary flamenco dancers desconstruct the dance, Belén does it, and then puts it all back together again, right before our eyes

Belén returns to the blackboard, crosses off the numbers already done and puts a mark next to “tangos”. She glances playfully at the audience which respondes with an obedient and collective “yes!” The dancer lets herself be carried away by her own Granada roots, finding herself in tangos of Granada, Triana and Cádiz and triggering applause every time she recreates the illusion of sliding across the stage as if on rollers.

Tremendita does a cante solo of soleá with bulería por soleá, skillful but excessively adorned in the Pepe Marchena style – she’s young, loves flamenco and has ability, let’s give her time. The bit of the two girls who do palmas and good humor is a big hit, there can never be too much of this sort of thing in flamenco, although the effect is diminished by the nearly total absence of light.

Finally, Belén’s alegrías, in all her flamenco glory, wearly a dazzling red bata de cola. If other contemporary flamenco dancers desconstruct the dance, Belén does it, and then puts it all back together again, right before our eyes. The lady is splendid in this dance that closes the recital, and when she finally goes to the blackboard to erase all the notes and turn out the light-bulb hanging overhead, there is a collective “aaaahh” of disappointment at having reached the end of such a fine time. There’s still a long fiesta finale in which even the violinist takes part, the two palmas women each pull off spectacular bulerías bits that drive the audience wild, and it can be safely said that Holland’s flamenco following increased exponentially on this cold Dutch night.

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