I was meant to be a Bollywood star.

Balle! Balle!

When I found out Alvin Ailey offers a class that blends Indian folk dance (Bhangra) with Bollywood-style moves, I was there faster than you can say Amitabh Bachchan. It was hands down the best dance class I have ever taken in my life and since high school I have spent a small fortune on the ripoff that is dance classes in NYC. My first dance class at Broadway Dance Center (pre- Center Stage cameo) was $12.50. Now they run at 18 bucks. 18 bucks to look like an asshole while some 8 year old girl from Asia schools you at every combination and doesn't break a sweat. Mark Morris in Brooklyn somehow has kept class rates down to 12 dollars, but its a bitch to get to and there are less classes. Ailey's extension studios are amazing. I HIGHLY recommend them. The class before mine was a West African open class- I am in love.

What I love about India is the way it just welcomes and adopts anything into its own. A priest once told me that Hindus were the hardest to convert because they would take the missionarys' crosses, put some marigold flowers on it and hang it right next to their Vishnu shrine. Everything is welcome. Cricket, technology, the film industry. And it all becomes uniquely Indian. Which means, more color, more dancing, and more numbers. Bollywood movies are definitely a guilty pleasure. I could wax academic on Satyajit Ray films, or I could just admit that I am a sucker for picking up a movie in some store in Jackson Heights with an Indian man in a shiny satin slightly unbuttoned shirt on the cover.

Speaking of which, I was in Jackson Heights with Khentse my Tibetan friend who grew up in Dharamsala. We wanted to catch a Bollywood flick but apparently there is a strike. The women in the video store we asked was REALLY PISSED about it. Warring parties included the producers and the Multiplex owners. Throw in a few disgruntled union members who haven't been paid in months and all cameras shut down. The strike ended June 5th but by the time the start shooting shipping the films, who knows how long it will be before I can enjoy my Masala Chai and jalebi while watching something just as sugary on the screen.

To catch a Bollywood film in the heart of authenticity the appropriatly named Eagle Theater
(73-07 37th Rd., nr. 73rd St.) is where to go. Jump into any store and order jalebi- only if you love honey, A LOT.

To get a Masala Bhangra workout: http://www.masaladance.com/

To indulge in some Bollywood delight to satiate yourself until you can get to the Eagle: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AU_rqiqeqXI

To laugh your ass off: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hOgALTFzFbQ

Laugh harder: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f5Pjo0WjBcs&feature=related

Scandalous!

This city is wearing me out.

Last night I had my cousin's Bachelorette party at Madame X on Houston St. in Greenwich Village. We took a pole dancing class. Instead of writing about my experience on the pole I want to write about scandal and one of my favorite painters, John Singer Sargent, who painted the bar's namesake, Madame X.

This one portrait, which in my opinion isn't even his best one, created a scandal that destroyed the reputation of Madam Gautreau, a Parisian socialite, and forced him to leave Paris with the painting tucked under his arm fleeing the Molotov cocktails of paint thinner the Gautreau family probably had waiting for this 7 foot tall masterpiece.

Madame X, your tears over this were wasted. Your presence in the society columns has been long forgotten but you have an immortal home both at the Met, and on a wall in a bar/strip club in the Village.

Scandalous art is not dead and I found an interesting parallel between Madame X and Miley Cyrus:

This portrait caused an unforeseen scandal. Miley had to publicly apologize for the photos which caused such an uproar in cul-de-sacs across the nation. It sparked a debate about the role of teenagers in sexual marketing and of course Disney's role in all of this. Miley's reputation wasn't ruined like Madame X's; she lost some fans but I think the Dixie Chicks lost more on that somewhat anti-Bush comment. Leibovitz of course didn't have to flee New York. Those days are over. I blame DuChamp. Yet, both works stand together as beautiful scandalous art, imbued with the surreal sexuality on display in the recesses of our imaginations, quite different than what goes on in the bedrooms of the conservative, outraged bloggers. Silent intimacy, no skin smacking. Beautiful lighting instead of, "Honey turn off the light, I feel bloated tonight."

When I was watching the dancer on the pole last night she looked like moving art. To me it was the same theme, unfortunately held back by social stigma. When I was awkwardly swinging around the pole, thinking more about germs than phallic empowerment, I realized I am of the school that enjoys skin smacking more than performance. But I do like to observe. A lot. Madame X on the wall of Madame X was so compelling last night, I wanted immediately to run to the Met and stare at it. It is Sunday, and I might just do that.

Pole dancing has ambiguous origins. Dancers in traveling strip shows of the late 19th century may have used the center pole of the tent to dance around. I read it might have burgeoned from the Maypole (everyone blames the pagans...including Thomas Hardy and his oh-so-sexual description of virginal Tess dancing around one [see Tess of the d'Urbervilles]). Pole dancing the way it is now originated in Canada in the 1980s.

SERIOUSLY? CANADA?


Word of the day: MALLAKHAMB: Indian gymnastics sport performed with a pole. Another possible origin of pole dancing.



More on the amazing John Singer Sargent: http://jssgallery.org/Major_Paintings/Major.htm

A great bit on sex in our society from Germaine Greer of The Guardian: http://www.guardian.co.uk/artanddesign/2008/apr/30/photography.women

Miley and some young girls clutching Teddy bears looking vulnerable: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hr0Wv5DJhuk&feature=channel

Pole dancing classes at Madame X: http://www.madamexnyc.com/m3/options.html