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Whose Dance Is It?
Whose Dance Is It?
Appreciation vs Appropriation of Music in Choreography
Shakeh Major Tchilingirian
Grapevine, June 2026, pp. 13-17
A recent collaborative workshop with Judy King sparked an unexpectedly rich debate on the issue of “cultural appropriation”. The discussion centred on the use of the theme music from Schindler’s List, a haunting piece composed for a film set during the Jewish Holocaust. The question was whether choreographers and dancers are aware or reflect on the provenance and the cultural context of the music chosen for a choreography. The deeper questions emerged in our conversation about ownership, context, and responsibility. What does it mean to move to music so closely tied to historical trauma? And how does intention intersect with cultural sensitivity? Our conversation opened the door to a broader exploration of cultural appropriation within our own practices. We touched upon the question of how sometimes dominant groups adopt elements of a minority’s traditions, music, or customs, without permission, acknowledgement or proper understanding.
TRICHK Dancing Flight, Memory, and Becoming
Trichk: Dancing Flight, Memory, and Becoming
Shakeh Major Tchilingirian
Grapevine, September 2025; pp. 14-16.
There was dance before there were words.
In Armenian, we say “Baren araj kar bar” — movement came before speech. This truth lives in my bones and deepens with every piece I create. Dance has always been my way of speaking, of remembering, of becoming.
Trichk, which means “flight” in Armenian, did not arrive in a moment of clarity. It lingered in the quiet, asking questions I wasn’t ready to answer. It brewed in my body, stirred in my spirit, waited patiently. Then, one summer, far from the noise of daily life, I found myself alone – with silence, with breath, with music that had lived inside me for months. I hadn’t planned to choreograph. But I moved — and Trichk moved through me.
TRICHK Tanzender Flug Erinnerung und Werden
Trichk: Tanzender Flug, Erinnerung und Werden
von Shakeh Major Tchilingirian
Balance: Zeitschrift des Fachverbandes Meditation des Tanzes, NR. 2, 2025, pp. 21-23.
Es gab Tanz, bevor es Worte gab.
Auf Armenisch sagen wir „Baren araj kar bar“ - die Bewegung kam vor der Sprache. Diese Wahrheit steckt mir in den Knochen und vertieft sich mit jedem Stück, das ich kreiere. Tanz war schon immer meine Art zu sprechen, mich zu erinnern und zu werden.
Trichk - was auf Armenisch „Flucht“ bedeutet - kam nicht in einem Moment der Klarheit. Er verweilte in der Stille und stellte Fragen, die ich nicht bereit war zu beantworten. Es brodelte in meinem Körper, regte sich in meinem Geist und wartete geduldig. Dann, eines Sommers, weit weg vom Lärm des täglichen Lebens, war ich allein - mit der Stille, mit dem Atem, mit der Musik, die seit Monaten in mir lebte. Ich hatte nicht geplant, zu choreografieren. Aber ich bewegte mich - und Trichk bewegte sich durch mich.
To succeed in Life...
Balance Nr. 2, 2024
Rainer Maria Rilke’s poem “Vor lauter Lauschen und Staunen sei still” and the various English translations I came across have sparked my thoughts to delve into some of the poetry and writings of the much-loved poet. As Anais Nin, the French-born American novelist wrote, “I have no fear of depths, and a great fear of shallow living.” Indeed, “it is not too late to dive into your increasing depths where life calmly gives out its own secret”, wrote Rilke. I wish to share with you a journey of discovery through my readings and highlight the thoughts and words that deeply resonate.