follow instructions and write 2 paper
The Dancer and the Danced: Trance Dance and Theatrical Performance in West Java Author(s): Kathy Foley Source: Asian Theatre Journal, Vol. 2, No. 1 (Spring, 1985), pp. 28-49 Published by: University of Hawai'i Press Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1124505 . Accessed: 11/11/2014 13:50
Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp
. JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected].
.
University of Hawai'i Press is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to Asian Theatre Journal.
http://www.jstor.org
This content downloaded from 128.114.165.87 on Tue, 11 Nov 2014 13:50:09 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
The Dancer and the Danced: Trance Dance and Theatrical Performance in West Java Kathy Foley
In Western theatre we talk of actors so enraptured that for a moment or an hour they "live the part." But, on the whole, Western acting is perceived as an elegant mode of artifice. Actors impersonate, but never lose perspective on who they themselves are. During field study in West Java, Indonesia, in 1977-1978 and 1982, I encountered examples of a different type of acting. In certain trance dance forms the actors were said to enter an altered state and become mediums for another presence: their own personalities were displaced in their bodies by some other being.l
The appeal of this type of acting is twofold. First, there is the attraction of voyeurism: these forms allow audiences to see beyond their everyday existence into the normally hidden world of the spirits who perform-gods and demons, wild and mythical animals, and the dead. The second appeal is spectacle: since these spirits are endowed with super- human powers, the entranced performers often engage in activities beyond the limits of mere mortals. As if playing with spirits were not exciting enough, performers frequently prove the validity of their visitation by literally playing with fire. I have, for example, seen performers walk on blazing coals, roll torches over their bodies, eat light bulbs, douse them- selves in boiling water, and pierce their bodies with swords.
Scholars generally assume that these dances are of great antiquity, and some hypothesize that they are derived from archaic, ritual forms which-under the impact of succeeding waves of foreign culture (Hindu, Islamic, and Western)-have often lost their original meaning.2 It is not my intention in this article to analyze or psychoanalyze the forms to seek
Kathy Foley is Assistant Professor of Theater Arts at the University of California, Santa Cruz. Research for this paper was supported by grants from the East-West Center's Culture Learning Institute and from the Academic Senate of the University of California, Santa Cruz. Asian Theatre Journal 2, no. 1. ? by the University of Hawaii Press. All rights reserved.
This content downloaded from 128.114.165.87 on Tue, 11 Nov 2014 13:50:09 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
DANCER AND THE DANCED
their historical or cultural roots, nor do I plan to question the authenticity of the trance states in the performances I have witnessed. Rather I wish to draw attention to some similarities between the trancers in these forms and the performers in more strictly theatrical entertainments of West Java who
impersonate characters more as Western actors do. I believe this com-
parison can shed light on some of the underpinnings of theatrical perfor- mance in this geographical area.
For the purposes of this article, I define the dancer as the performer who maintains his or her self-awareness while impersonating another, and the danced as those who strive for an altered, trance state and allow themselves to become mediums for another presence-a phenomenon known as possession trance. Though the state of consciousness provides a demarcation line between these two types of performers, it is my hypothesis that the theatrical dancers are, in some sense, "danced" by the spirit of these seemingly archaic trance forms.
Brief descriptions of three significant trance forms found in West
Java-sintren, dabus, and kuda kepang-provide the particulars from which I derive general principles about the method and structure of these trance forms. All descriptions are based on performances I attended, and unless otherwise indicated information is drawn from interviews I conducted with
performers of the form discussed.
Sintren at Bojong Wetan (July 1, 1982) A moonlit night in the courtyard of a home in Cirebon on the north
coast of West Java-the audience is packed into the small space, belly to back. The chorus, pounding bamboo tubes, a metal plate, and earthen- ware implements to be found in any kitchen, sings:
Make lively, lively, make lively for the performance so the heavenly goddess (widadari) will descend. Make lively, lively, by the clear of the moon.
As the chorus continues its simple, repetitive tune, a girl (the sintren) dressed in ordinary clothes is bound by a rope fastening her hands behind her back. An assistant, who will make sure the girl does not hurt herself while in trance and who will add jokes to the performance, puts a cloth- covered chicken cage over the girl's head after placing a classical dance costume on her lap. Now another figure goes to work: thepawang, who may alternatively be called dukun or dalang,3 induces the trance in the girl. He is a ritual practitioner versed in mantra and armed with spiritually powerful regalia; for this performance he wears an heirloom dagger (kris). After the girl is in the cage, he moves away from his customary station beside the
29
This content downloaded from 128.114.165.87 on Tue, 11 Nov 2014 13:50:09 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
Foley
FIGURE 5. Languid movement characterizes the sintren's dance. A second per- former (behind) provides comedy and prevents the trancer from falling. (Photo: Kathy Foley.)
ritual offerings. He carries an incense burner around the cage three times, uttering a mantra that will enable the spirit of the goddess to enter the girl. After singing several verses, the chorus chants:
Come down sintren. The sintren is a widadari. Show the precious floweryunayani, the flower Siti Maindra widadari descend.4
The entranced performer emerges from the cage miraculously transformed: though still bound, she wears the resplendent costume of a classical dancer. Her eyes are shut. She is returned to the cage and emerges once more, but the bonds have vanished.5
She dances dreamily in a languorous, flowing style comparable to the movement of a refined character in classical dance (Plate 7). The spine is upright and relatively stationary, while the extremities undulate around the fixed point in space created by the torso. A habitual plie is in evidence, but the knees remain close together and little bouncing occurs. The dancer floats through space, as if air were water and she buoyed up by it.
The head, arms, and hands draw the viewer's focus. The elbows remain relatively fixed in space as the lower arms transcribe elegant arcs in
30
This content downloaded from 128.114.165.87 on Tue, 11 Nov 2014 13:50:09 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
DANCER AND THE DANCED
the air. At the moment when the lower arms reach their rotational limit, the wrists take up the impulse in the curving of the ukel, a gesture typical of dance in the area in which the fingers open out and down, then gently grasp a point in space, holding it while the wrists explore their rotation around it. The head, as if liberated from the trunk, floats above. The nose seems almost fixed in space as the chin and the tip of the head inscribe fluid
figure eights. The dancer advances through space using a circuitous floor
pattern. The total impression is of gentle indirection, as the limbs in motion and the body in space seek the curve that is the greatest distance between
any two points. A cross between Harry Houdini and the goddess incarnate, the sintren dances.
After about an hour of dancing, the performer is revived from her trance by the ritual practioner in the following manner: she reenters the
cage, and the pawang smokes it with incense as he circles the cage again. When the assistant removes the cage, the pawang douses the girl with clear water until she opens her eyes and acts normally. I question her and the girl explains that it was not she but the goddess who danced, and claims never to have studied dance.6 The musicians tell me not to waste my time talking to her; it is not the girl but the pawang who is important.
Later, an informant explained: "If he [thepawang] is strong, he can control the performer. The dalang is a kind of curer. You can ask for water to heal a sick child from his jar while he is performing. He is a person of
power." (Dede Sujana, personal communication, July 8, 1982) When I interviewed troupe members after the performance, they emphasized three
ways the pawang uses his power during the performance. First, he must be
powerful enough to summon the correct spirit; a demon should not enter in a performance where a heavenly nymph is required. Second, his presence insures the performer's safety and the spirit's exit at the proper moment.
Third, he counteracts any psychic sabotage of the performance by au- dience members with magical capabilities who, for sport or malice, chal-
lenge his strength. The girl who performs plays a minor role relative to the
pawang. The success of the performance depends on him.
Dabus in Bandung (October 11, 1978) The gamelan orchestra drones out a repetitive phrase that I recog-
nize as the battle tune used in wayang golik, the rod puppet theatre of the
region. Syncopated hand clapping and vocal calls by the musicians and
performers blend with the music. A troupe from Banten on the northwest coast ofJava has come to play dabus (from dabbus, iron awl) in a concert hall in Bandung, the major city of the Sundanese area of West Java.7
The seh (head of the troupe) has checked the offerings. He utters a mantra in which, a troupe member later explains, he calls upon "Allah for
help to make the people [who perform] safe." He then calls on the prophets of Islam and "the friends of the prophets" to aid. (Passages from the Koran
31
This content downloaded from 128.114.165.87 on Tue, 11 Nov 2014 13:50:09 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
Foley
may then be uttered silently or sung aloud.) Performers dance, and then, as I watch, they drive awls into their stomaches (Plate 8), eat glass, slash their
legs with knives, eat razor blades (joking they taste like candy), and cook
eggs on a fire they have built atop one man's head.8 One of the approximately twenty men performing slices off his
tongue and dances across the stage with the organ in his hand still quiver- ing in convulsive fashion, as frog legs in high-school biology classes con- tinue to contract after the brain cord has been cut. Audience members are invited on stage to view the cut-open stomach of one performer. The seh utters a mantra, takes some clear water in his mouth, and sprays it over the wounds that result from these acts. The tongue is reconnected, the stomach is unscarred.9
The dance movements are strong and direct rather than circuitous and languorous. The movement is related to the clean, functional style of
penca silat, the martial arts dance found throughout the Malay archipelago (troupe members later acknowledged that they had all studied that art before undertaking training in dabus). The body is upright; the energy is
strong, and the weight falls heavily toward the earth. The hands are extended as if in readiness to deflect or initiate a blow. The full arms move from the shoulder. The knees are spread wide with the legs rotated out at the hip joint. The steps are relatively jerky and bouncy. Transitions from one pose to the next come in short, sharp shocks. Movement across the floor is in relatively straight lines. The dance, as compared to the sintren's, impresses me as being direct, quick, and tense.
When interviewed, dabus performers said that their feeling changes from a normal conscious one as they start to perform. When they dance and execute the feats, they feel "calm, free, and peaceful." Some performers said that they are entered by the "friends of the prophets," 10 and that this is what makes them strong enough to receive the blows. All agreed that it is the power of Allah that protects them.
The leader, the seh, who may or may not do feats during a perfor- mance, is the central figure in the troupe. He trains performers by giving them mantras and prescribing meditations. A powerful seh insures a suc- cessful performance. He makes the performers safe-although, paradoxi- cally, if anyone does get hurt, it is ascribed to a failure of the performer's own belief in the power of Allah, and not to a failure of the seh. (Vreden- bregt 1973, 307, 314) If a performer injures himself, he dances up to the sdh, who treats the wound with water and prayer. The next day, performers say, only a slight bruise remains.
Kuda Kepang in Ujung Gerbang (July 2, 1982) In the field in front of the mosque, a troupe begins a performance of
kuda ktpang (literally, "horse of woven bamboo").11 An electric guitar
32
This content downloaded from 128.114.165.87 on Tue, 11 Nov 2014 13:50:09 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
PLATE 1. An example of the katari (storytelling) tradition in Japanese puppet theatre (joruri): the chanter tells the story that is enacted by the puppets. The chanter and his accompanying musician sit apart from the puppet characters who
perform on the mainstage. (Photo: James R. Brandon.)
PLATE 2. An unmasked interrogator of a spirit, seen here in one of the many hana matsuri of Central Honshu, Japan, is considered to be the prototype of the waki in classical no, whose questioning elicits the katari, delivered by the shite. (Photo: Hidesaburo Hagiwara.)
This content downloaded from 128.114.165.87 on Tue, 11 Nov 2014 13:50:09 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
PLATE 3. Kumagai (Onoe Shoroku) raises his fan and strikes a mie pose, while telling how he killed Atsumori. An example of katari in the kabuki play Kumagai's Camp. (Photo: Photo Space.)
PLATE 5. A version of Okina which
predates that of the classical no is per- formed at the Sumiyoshi festival of
Kamikamo-gawa (Katogun, Hyogo Prefecture, Japan). (Photo: Hidesa- buro Hagiwara.)
PLATE 4. In an ennen festival at Motsu
Temple (Nishi Iwai-gun, Iwate Pre-
fecture, Japan), the etiology of the Tendai divinity, Madarajin, is recited
by the masked figure. His katari includes an explanation of the whole festival.
(Photo: Hidesaburo Hagiwara.)
PLATE 6. In Pumba, a modern Korean
play that draws inspiration from a tra- ditional performance form, Chong Kyu-shu plays Chon Pal-man, a beggar renowned for his resistance against the
Japanese occupation. (Photo: Korean Centre of the International Theatre
Institute.)
This content downloaded from 128.114.165.87 on Tue, 11 Nov 2014 13:50:09 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
PLATE 7. A refined female character in
wayang orang topeng, a masked drama of
Yogyakarta, Central Java, Indonesia. Slow flowing movements found in this
type of dance are comparable to move- ments which occur frequently in female trance performances. (Photo: Kathy Foley.)
PLATE 8. Dabus performers parade in
Bandung, West Java, Indonesia. In
performance, dancers accomplish vari- ous feats, such as pounding iron awls into their stomachs. (Photo: Kathy Foley.)
PLATE 9. The dalang of the puppet theatre functions in ways comparable to the dukun, pawang, or seh in trance-dance forms. Dalang Aliwijaya performs wayang cepak, a rod
puppet theatre of Cirebon, West Java, Indonesia. (Photo: Kathy Foley.)
This content downloaded from 128.114.165.87 on Tue, 11 Nov 2014 13:50:09 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
PLATE 10. The kuttambalam stage of Kitangur Temple, Kerala State, India, used for kutiyattam performances. (Photo: Farley Richmond.)
PLATE 1. K. Raman Cakyar applies makeup after putting on the red head-
band, in preparation for a kutiydttam
performance. (Photo: Farley Rich-
mond.)
PLATE 12. Madhavan Cakyar as the
vidusaka, or clown role, in a kutiydttam performance, Kerala State, India.
(Photo: Farley Richmond.)
This content downloaded from 128.114.165.87 on Tue, 11 Nov 2014 13:50:09 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
DANCER AND THE DANCED
FIGURE 6. A kuda ktpang performer eats light bulbs. (Photo: Kathy Foley.)
throbs out a melody as a flute (suling), xylophonelike instruments (saron), and gongs play. I watch the pawang carry an incense burner around two
hobbyhorse figures in a small village west of Cirebon. The offerings for this
performance are extensive, an audience member comments, because the
magic is strong. The pawang utters a mantra to insure the safety of the
performers. Two young men strap around their waists the belts that are attached to the horses. They tip the horse figures up and down and begin dancing in a prancing step-hop-step. The pawang's assistant takes up a
whip and snaps it at the "horses." They start leaping and turning somer- saults. Audience members tell me that the dancers have been entered by the spirits of horses. They eat unhusked rice and gulp down, without pause,
33
This content downloaded from 128.114.165.87 on Tue, 11 Nov 2014 13:50:09 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
Foley
FIGURE 7. The pawang puts his magically chargedjimat to a kuda kepang performer's stomach, to insure that he will come to no harm as he rolls on thorn sticks. (Photo: Kathy Foley.)
huge buckets of water. They then proceed to less equine activities. I see them eating light bulbs, lying on thorn sticks with three people standing on
top of them, gamboling through fire, rolling torches over their bodies, and
swallowing flames. Their dance is a simple, repetitive step-hop-step. Although the
orchestra stops at the end of each song, the trancers dance unceasingly. Their torsos are upright. Their hands do not move, but cling to the
hobbyhorses. The up-and-down bouncing is constant. The movement is
strong and quick; the performers' muscles appear tense and overcharged. The floor pattern of kuda kepang dancers is often around the perimeter of the circular playing area. The use of space seems direct, as the performers continuously inscribe the same simple circle and move in relatively straight lines in and out from the center as they perform each feat.
After the performers are brought out of trance by the pawang, they tell me they undertook no training prior to their first performance, nor do
they fast or say mantras before a show. They do not need to because all
power comes from the pawang, who calls the spirits into their bodies and insures that they will emerge from the experience unharmed. They say: "You feel good when you perform and awake refreshed." The pawang
34
This content downloaded from 128.114.165.87 on Tue, 11 Nov 2014 13:50:09 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
DANCER AND THE DANCED
explains that he has worked his way up in the art, having started out as a dancer. When he was a laborer in Jakarta, he performed in the troupe of a pawang from East Java and founded this troupe when he returned home to his own village. He says the use of a jimat (a magically charged object) facilitates the entrancement of the performers as do the mantras he utters under his breath.
Trance Performance and Theatrical Performance
These three quite different performances are examples of the major trance forms found in West Java.12 Although, as described here, they represent only that area, the forms can be considered regional variants of trance forms which are found on the mainland of Southeast Asia and in other areas of Indonesia.13 In dabus a religious impulse remains strong, but in the other two genres the religious element is minimal for a contemporary audience. In each case, the performance is given by a professional troupe hired by the family holding a hajat, a ritual gathering in which the sharing of food with friends and neighbors, is the central activity. A performance is usually held in connection with the circumcision or marriage of a family member. A host could invite, instead of one of these troupes, a group which performs puppetry, masked dance, or unmasked drama.
The performances which might be chosen instead of these trance forms include three puppet forms found in this area: wayang kulit purwa, which uses shadow puppets to tell Rama or Pandawa cycle stories; wayang golikpurwa, which uses three-dimensional rod puppets to portray the same repertoire; and wayang cepak, which tells local chronicle tales and Islamic stories with rod puppets. Mask forms that might be hired are topeng babakan, in which a single masked dancer presents a series of five masks, or wayang wong, in which a group of masked dancers mime traditional stories as a dalang speaks their dialogue. The unmasked forms that could be invited are genres such as tarling and sandiwara. These unmasked forms are of relatively recent origin and generally present more modern stories through dialogue improvised by performers with some kind of orchestral accompaniment.
When compared to these theatre genres, the trance forms seem relatively simple in structure and content. Although in his own way, the trancer does present a character other than himself, the plot is slim. The appearance of a "character," in this case a spirit, and the acts that prove the actuality of the new presence are the two basic components of the trance performances. It is the excitement of seeing that transformation and sensing the presence of the gaib (the magically potent possibilities of life) that draws audiences again and again to see the same old show.
Yet in these genres one can discern elements that also shape more strictly theatrical entertainments, especially the puppet and masked
35
This content downloaded from 128.114.165.87 on Tue, 11 Nov 2014 13:50:09 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
Foley
theatres, which indigenous sources claim preceded the theatre of unmasked performers.14 I would like to comment on four aspects of trance perfor- mance that reappear in nontrance performance: (1) the necessity of having an empty vessel in which another persona can manifest itself; (2) the significance of music, dance, and costume in transforming the performer; (3) a male-female dichotomy in movement style and function; and (4) the division of labor within the performance structure into two major roles-a medium, who is danced, and a controller, who, though on stage through- out the performance, normally remains aloof from any kind of role- playing.
The first and fourth elements seem appropriate in a mediumistic format, but not necessarily so in a theatrical one.15 The use of music, dance, and costume are standard devices of trance performance. I feel distinctive features of music, dance, and costume used in theatre may be borrowed from these spirit seances. Most significantly, I argue that a male-female
dichotomy in trance forms may hint at a source of the strict typology of roles that dominates the theatre of the area. I realize, even as I begin, that exceptions to the rules I outline here exist. But I feel that this attempt to articulate basic principles will reward those willing to consider my analysis.
THE EMPTY VESSEL
In each of the forms described, the performers conceived of them- selves as empty vessels moved by the spirits: in sintren, by the goddess; in dabus, by the friends of the prophets or the spirit of Allah; in kuda kepang, by the horse spirits. In performance, they played a passive role-the ritual practitioner and the spirit world did all of the work. They claimed that there was no talent and little training involved. The sintren and kuda kepang players said that anybody could do it and denied that there was any preparation.16 The dabus players acknowledged that training was pre- scribed by the troupe leader, but they assured me that anyone undertaking the spiritual exercises and study of mantras assigned by the seh would become a competent player. They suggested that I come study with them so that they could prove their point. Anyone can perform these arts-yet clearly there needs to be a body. A medium is needed for the spirit world's message to get through.
What I find striking about these trance forms is that they are the extreme statement of an approach to performance that colors the tra- ditional performing arts in this geographical area. I will term this the "empty vessel" school of acting since the actor's central task is to abdicate his own personality and let his body become a vessel for the character he presents.
Clearly, there is some suppression of the self in favor of the character whenever theatrical impersonation is attempted. Yet most Western acting
36
This content downloaded from 128.114.165.87 on Tue, 11 Nov 2014 13:50:09 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
DANCER AND THE DANCED
theory states that actors find themselves, not by abdication, but by acute examination of the self. By choosing particular aspects culled from emo- tional memory or imaginatively created during rehearsal, actors create scores for their roles which they revitalize in performance. The activity and talent of the performer are emphasized in this approach to acting. In traditional performance of West Java, the actor is seen as being more
passive.17 I see this empty vessel approach manifested in a number of ways.
For example, on Java, Bali, and throughout the Southeast Asian penin- sula, trance performance involving spirit possession is relatively common. In the same area, puppets and masks are significant features of the theat- rical life. Puppet, mask, and trancer are alike in that each is an empty vessel
waiting for the vital energy of the other to fill it. In trance this "other" is a
predetermined spirit summoned into the trancer by the pawang; in pup- petry and masked drama it is a preset character brought to life by the
dalang. This empty vessel approach is also apparent in how the dancer/
actor goes about creating a character. The training in West Java begins impersonally with the learning of the movement and voice of a particular character type (a refined knight, for example, or an emotionally uncon- trolled demon). The ideal dancer is one who can present these characters with the clarity and economy of the puppet mode. (My dance teacher, for instance, demonstrated what I should be doing by showing me how the same dance sequence would be executed by a puppet.) The actor in this theatre begins by transforming his body, not by plumbing his soul. Although the actor, in contrast to the trancer, must devote endless hours to learning the dance, his method is analogous. He makes himself an empty vessel to be filled by the traditional system of performance symbols.
In trance performance, the desirability of the performer as an
empty vessel is clear. The individual ego blocks the communication from the spirit world. The puppet and mask, unencumbered by ego, seem to be the translation of trance acting into a more clearly theatrical context. The human actor learns through his training to emulate their nonegotistical perfection.
My thinking here is indebted to the anthropologistJane Belo, who, after researching trance in Bali, diagnosed a "puppet complex" for both Java and Bali. (Belo 1960, 12) Her argument can be summarized as follows: Gods and demons descend to earth and, via trance, make "pup- pets" of people. Theatre reverses the process as performers divest them- selves of their personalities and try to become puppetlike, since:
A puppet is that which represents a spirit. Plays are originally the representation of nonhuman spirits. By dramatic connotation, actors
37
This content downloaded from 128.114.165.87 on Tue, 11 Nov 2014 13:50:09 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
Foley
and dancers are like puppets, for they behave in accordance with a
spirit which is not their own. (Belo 1960, 12)18
Although individuality is lost in this process, something enormous is
gained. Instead of being confined to exploring the touch of the god or the demon in their own individual psyches, the actors are encouraged to abandon themselves to the archetype and find extremes that are impossible in the everyday.
Belo's analysis, which I have adapted, of course, implies a kind of time-line in which spirit visitation gives birth to puppetry and the puppet then becomes the model for the dancer. The local tradition, as previously stated, agrees that puppet theatre preceded human theatre, and it may be that this time-line is historically valid. Nonetheless, trance performance, puppetry, and human performance exist today side by side, and influence of on'e form on another could have come at any time. I am interested in the functional rather than the historical perspective. The empty vessel ap- proach makes the most sense and receives its clearest statement in the trance forms. It may have originated in them, but what is important is that it clarifies a significant performance concept. The trance method, puppet- mask complex, and impersonal method of training are merely different manifestations of a larger cultural preference situating the individual actor as the vessel for reanimating traditional artistic symbols. Individual cre-
ativity is not emphasized as the central artistic task of a performer.19
PROMPTING THE TRANCE
Having the empty vessel feature in common, these forms apply the
techniques of music and dance to help the medium reach the twilight zone of trance, and costume may be an accessory to the act. The use of music, dance, and costume in theatrical dance may be related to these trance forms.
Music and dance consist of sound and movement that push the
performer beyond everyday bounds. Continuous, repetitive music is char- acteristic of the three forms discussed, and it provides an aural stimulus for the trancer. Movement in all three forms assists in the transformation, but the function of dance differs in the feat-oriented forms (dabus and kuda
kepang) and the god-manifested form (sintren). In the former, hops and
jumps-frequent features of trance-inducing movement-are evident. It is as if the performers use movement to dance themselves into their ecstatic state, and then perform the feats, which are the climax of the performance.
In sintren, however, the performer only dances after the spirit has arrived. Dance is not used to effect a transformation: it is the transfor- mation. The floating movement signals the advent of the goddess. The costume appears with the spirit too: strings of beads or pompoms may hang
38
This content downloaded from 128.114.165.87 on Tue, 11 Nov 2014 13:50:09 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
DANCER AND THE DANCED
from the headdress, and the dance scarf (a persistent costume feature in theatrical dance throughoutJava) is often used. Scarves and beads seem to serve a trance-inducing function by providing an outside focus for the dancer's concentration, and probably for this reason are common dance accessories in shamanic dance in Asia.20 The costume of the sintren and the theatrical dancer of WestJava may derive from this widespread tradition.
Music and dance persist as central features of theatrical perfor- mance in WestJava, and the costume of the sintren is used by the theatrical dancer. Although these common features do not prove a relationship, they can be considered circumstantial evidence of a link between theatrical and trance forms. The percussive nature of theatre music-with its monoto- nous, regular beat created by gongs and accented by drums-and the use of the dance scarf may well have been influenced by trance forms, in which these elements have the utilitarian purpose of inducing trance in the
performer. It is not without significance that dabus performances I saw
innovatively used battle tunes from the puppet theatre's repertoire. These tunes, which provide background music for the climactic battle scenes, use the largest gong at frequent intervals, providing aural excitement and
intensity (in contrast to the melodically more complex pieces which were not used). They seem appropriate accompaniment for dabus.
The dichotomy in movement style that splits along sex lines is, I believe, a significant feature that trance performance and theatrical genres share. The trance forms described here push performers to one of two extremes-the hypertense male or the somnambulant female. The two poles are predictable. Research on the physiology of trance shows that maximal arousal of the nervous system (as exemplified by the dabus and kuda kepang performers' hops, jerks, and jumps) and the minimal arousal (as evinced by the dream-walking sintren) are the biological occurrences that tend to be interpreted as altered states in different cultures. But though the two styles of trance performance are predictable, the sex division is not.21
FEMALE AND MALE FUNCTIONS
The choice of vessels for the spirit to enter during trance is not random. In my observation, the vessels provided are appropriate for whatever spirit is to be induced. The sintren is a woman, the kuda kepang or dabus dancer is male.22 In trance dance in West Java the female always moves in curves with a langorous, sleepwalking quality. The male always moves with tension, angularity, and violence. Why cannot any spirit be called into any body? Perhaps because the human body-like the puppet in the puppet theatre-has, in the indigenous conception, a set character built into its proportions.
In the puppet theatre, each of the major character types has a walk and a voice that is appropriate to that class of character. The physical
39
This content downloaded from 128.114.165.87 on Tue, 11 Nov 2014 13:50:09 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
Foley
statement of a small body, white face, and bent head always means the same thing. It says this is a refined character who will move in a slow sustained walk and speak in a low, polite voice. This character coincides with the type that is said to be the incarnation of the goddess in sintren. Can it be that in trance dance, the body-devoid of its contaminating indi- vidual personality-is suddenly free to manifest its "original" nature? By original I mean here a culturally defined archetype of femaleness-soft, flowing, removed from the world, self-contained.
Claire Holt in her Art in Indonesia wonders why the strong figures of women dancers evident in Indonesian Hindu temple architecture are not seen in current Indonesian dance. She also wonders whether this is a result of Muslim influence or a return to an earlier indigenous style (1960, 121 ). I
argue the latter case. In trance and semiritual dances throughout the region, the female
is the manifestation of the godly ideal. And I do not mean just sintren. I am
talking ofsrimpi and bedoyo (the semiritual court dances of CentralJava), of
sanghayang dedari, legong, rejang, and mendet (ritual and classical dance forms of Bali); I am talking about why we find troupes of female dancers attached to the courts of Thailand, Cambodia, and Kelantan in Malaysia. Female dancers are by their anatomy appropriate vessels for the divine refined.
Emptied of their individual ego in trance, they will revert of a godly archetype, hence the special importance of female trancers, and by associ- ation dancers, in these cultures.
An anology with architecture is evocative: curves are the lines that foil demons; houses and temples are thus designed so that partitions necessitate taking a curved path through them.23 In dance this principle seems to have been translated into a movement aesthetic. Since the female
body is the appropriate vessel for the godly, in trance and theatrical dance the motion is all circles: no demon can enter it.
This indirect circularity has, in theatrical dance, become the high- est ideal. The great heroes in each epic-Arjuna in the Mahabharata and Rama in the Ramayana-dance in the refined male style that is close to the female style. Indeed, nowadays women often portray them, since their build and movement quality are more likely to capture the essence of the refined male character. Since femaleness is next to godliness, the ideal male is female!
I believe this aesthetic helps explain the way women are used in dramatic forms. In theatrical performance, the being of the female is structurally more significant than her doing. James R. Brandon remarks that drama sometimes seems an excuse for the long nondramatic, female dances that shine like jewels in the performance setting. (Brandon 1967, 136) In a number of Southeast Asian theatrical forms, one or more female dancers, who have no perceptible connection to the plot, dance at the
40
This content downloaded from 128.114.165.87 on Tue, 11 Nov 2014 13:50:09 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
DANCER AND THE DANCED
opening of the play. The Burmese pwe, the Sundanese wayang golik, and the
Malay ma'yong are examples of forms that begin with long female dances that are semiritual. These dances, which to a Westerner seem extraneous, may be linked to trance forms like sintren. I advance the hypothesis that
they are "movement mantras" that evoke the mild "female" godliness to manifest and mediate the more manly business of wars and demons that soon will follow.
Male trancers are more appropriate vessels for manifesting the uncontrolled, demonic, and animal side of the spirit and human world. In the puppet theatre the larger the body, the bigger the eye, the higher the chin, and the darker the face, the more explosive is the character. The
puppet theatre, masked theatre, and dance-drama each have an emotion-
ally uncontrolled character who forms the opposite extreme from the re- fined dancer. His tense muscles, bounces, jerks, and use of relatively straight lines are comparable to the movement patterns of the male trance dancers. The characteristic step of this character in WestJava ispak blang-executed by taking three hopping steps forward. Such hopping is never seen in female-style movement and is reminiscent of male trance.
This use of straight lines in choreography for strong male characters is related to the demon, who moves in straight lines. The demonic is danced in male style and by a male, even when it is the manifestation of a female demon.24 The animal side of the human psyche in West Java and perhaps throughout Southeast Asia is best represented by a male. The male is more exciting and awesome, yet fraught with destructive potential.
The structure of most theatrical performance forms provides a
place in the plot for this type of character, who appears after the perfor- mance has been underway for some time. Like the male trancers, first they dance, then they do. They dance themselves into a seeming frenzy as a prelude to their central action in the play-fighting the battle in which they are inevitably defeated. The bloodletting in battle is comparable to the feats of the trancers. The male, like the female, has a core function in theatre that is related to trance pattern.
It is as though the traditional theatre has found a way to incorpo- rate the two kinds of trance into one performance. The two extremes are made one, as female and male, god and demon are fitted into one structure. Although these images have nothing to do with plot per se, they are in a sense the real plot. They are the message the tradition keeps sending through, using the pretense of the changing stories in which they reappear.25
The models provided by the trance forms are binding on theatre. In trance dance and in theatre, gender roles are neither challenged nor reversed; they are carried to extremes. Trance and art are not play spaces where man can find his femaleness or woman can explore her masculine
41
This content downloaded from 128.114.165.87 on Tue, 11 Nov 2014 13:50:09 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
Foley
potential. Rather, they are the arena where cultural definitions are fully embraced and perpetuated.
MEDIUM AND SPIRIT CONTROLLER
In all the trance forms discussed, the two major roles remain constant: medium and spirit controller. Performers are mediums through which spirits can be made manifest, but in and of themselves they have little intrinsic importance. They are vessels-and such vessels are abundant.
If the vessels are replaceable, the controller is not. It is the second role, that of the pawang or seh, that is considered the important one. He is the controller of spirits whose mantra and mana are the power behind the performance, though he himself does not "act" (i.e., impersonate another).
We might compare him to the director in Western theatre, for he helps the performer find his "character." Yet his method is, it seems, more reliable than the combination teacher-critic-psychologist that character- izes the director's role in Western theatre. By spiritual mastery, with the aid of mantras and magically charged objects, he summons the spirit, the "character," into the body of the performer. If he is powerful, the perfor- mance is sure to work. The result is not left to the happenstance of talented or untalented actors. They are like puppets in the spirit controller's hand. The medium is the danced, the pawang in his seeming stillness is the dancer.
The pawang's theatrical equivalent is the dalang of the puppet theatre.26 The dalang is the central figure in the performance who moves all the puppets, delivers all the dialogue and narration, and sings mood songs in archaic language (Plate 9). Like the pawang he traditionally employs mantras, incense, and offerings to bring about a successful performance and to inculcate good luck for the family which hires the troupe. As with the pawang, an aura of spiritual power traditionally surrounds his role. In the theatre of masked and unmasked dancers, this dalang role remains, although the responsibilities diminish in the forms in which performers deliver their own dialogue. Only in theatrical entertainments that have been devised in the last hundred years is this dalang role missing. These more modern entertainments are more secular in nature and lack the offerings and opening rituals which the dalang normally executes.
Clearly the two-role division of the trance form (medium and spirit controller) has its parallel in the dancer-dalang dichotomy in theatre. This role division has impact on the status of artists to the present. A dalang is an important force in the social and spiritual life of the community, while dancers who take the actual roles in a drama have little status. Unlike the performers in the trance forms, they have spent long hours perfecting the movement and vocal technique required for their roles. But people seem to feel that many have been so trained, and could also execute the roles. I offer
42
This content downloaded from 128.114.165.87 on Tue, 11 Nov 2014 13:50:09 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
DANCER AND THE DANCED
the hypothesis that the cavalier treatment of individual dancers is a result of the fact that they are not conceived to be power centers in and of themselves, but merely vessels of the tradition they represent.
Toward the Future
If the performers in the trance performance are aware of their subservience to the pawang, the performers in the theatrical context are less
comprehending of their lot. As I have described it here their role is to be vessels to dance the roles of the female-refined-godly and the male-strong- demonic under the tutalage of the dalang who holds the power.
For obvious reasons, this format is not fully satisfying for the young- est generation of dancers and artists, who, via Western education and
university training, have come to see the artist's role in another way. In the last few decades, a generation of performers imbued with the Western artist's ideal to be "in the avant-grade of the avant-garde" has arisen. Movement and choreography, dance and theatre are seen as places for individuals to express themselves-their personal visions.
There are signs that this wave of individualism imported from the West has given way recently to an attempt to find some middle ground. Artists I met seemed to be working toward some new world order that is neither the blind dancing of tradition nor the isolated individualism of the sole author. It is clear that the struggle currently being waged in the Indonesian arts is more than the struggle of a few artists to make their voices heard. It is the struggle to come to terms with the past and to define the future.27
I will not predict the outcome; I will merely set forth the options. One can abandon the tradition which preaches form and type before individuality and seek to create a new voice-be the dancer. One can acquiesce to the force and form of the past and continue the tradition which manifests the old spirit world in a theatrical mode-be the danced. Or one can become the dalang, who can summon any spirit down and force the spirits of this new age to manifest themselves in a new mode.
NOTES
1. For general discussions of possession trance in historical and cross- cultural contexts, see T. K. Oesterreich ([1921] 1966) and Erika Bourguignon (1973; 1976). For a comprehensive look at trance in one Indonesian culture, see Jane Belo's classic study, Trance in Bali (1960). For a survey of ecstatic dance in many cultures, see Bourguignon (1968).
The historical relation of spirit seances as a precursor to theatrical perfor- mance is explored by E. T. Kirby (1975). David Cole (1975) uses the idea of
43
This content downloaded from 128.114.165.87 on Tue, 11 Nov 2014 13:50:09 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
Foley
possession trance to explain aspects of the theatrical performer's task. These two books represent the trend of writers since the late 1960s to compare the role of the actor with that of a medium or shaman in traditional societies. Though these works are evocative, they tend to blur the distinction between spirit controller and
spirit medium that was made by Mircea Eliade (1964, 4-8). I wish to distinguish between the two, since they are distinct roles in the culture I discuss, but I have avoided using the term shaman for the spirit controller, since the word conjures up images of trance flights to spirit worlds that are inappropriate in the context of West Java.
2. Claire Holt (1967, 104-107) wonders if the hobbyhorse trance comes from ancient death and fertility rites. Kenelm O. L. Burridge (1961, 33-36) links the trance dance of the Javanese community there with an ancient war dance. E. W. Maurenbrecher (1940, 119) states that the trance dances he discusses are derived from old religious dances.
3. A dukun is a ritual practitioner of the Indonesian tradition. Healing, sorcery, and magic are associated with the role. A dalang is the central performer of the traditional puppet theatre-the wayang. Maurenbrecher (1940, 119) notes that, in the performance he saw, a woman filled this role, and Ronny Ardiwijaya ([1979], 18) says that a woman called the dukun cilik normally executes this function.
4. The sintren is the term applied to the performer of this genre;yunayani is a mythical flower; and Siti Maindra is one of the nymphs who serve in Indra's heaven. (Siwan, Cultural Researcher, Department of Education and Culture of the Regency of Cirebon, personal communication, June 14, 1982)
5. My description here is an abbreviated version of the performance I saw at Bojong Wetan. It emphasizes features that this presentation shared with perfor- mances I saw of a troupe from Kunningan and versions of sintren reported by Maurenbrecher (1940, 119-121) and Ardiwijaya ([1979], 16-23). Each village has a slightly different tradition, though essential features are constant.
6. One troupe member told me that she had in fact studied the mask dance of the area. The girl felt this training was irrelevant and therefore had not mentioned it. Both Maurenbrecher (1940, 119) and Ardiwijaya ([1979(?)], 20) found that a short training period of one week to a month was required of the sintren. Despite disclaimers, I suspect the performer of Bojong Wetan had, through attendance at other sintren performances and dance training, been primed for her role. What I found significant, however, was the attitude which so deemphasizes the individual performer.
7. The performances of dabus I saw used a gamelan orchestra rather than the more traditional tambour accompaniment. Performers said they chose this musical innovation because they thought it more impressive for the big-city audience. For all the forms I discuss, change in instrumentation to please audience tastes has been the norm in recent years.
The performances I saw were in 1977-78. My interviews were conducted with the same troupe inJuhut, West Java, on June 25, 1982. For other reports on dabus, see Raymond Archer (1937) and Jacob Vredenbregt (1973). The latter argues against the standard "trance" interpretation of the performance, em-
44
This content downloaded from 128.114.165.87 on Tue, 11 Nov 2014 13:50:09 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
DANCER AND THE DANCED
phasizing that the performers remain in conscious control. (Vredenbregt 1973, 311) However, viewing and interviewing theJuhut group convinced me that these performers often experience an altered state, and the idea of "possession" is present.
8. The comic finds its way into most performances in WestJava. In dabus I saw a pair of trancers play clownlike roles, while in sintren the guide to the trancer performed this function.
9. Suspicion of trickery was expressed by villagers in relation to all the forms discussed in this essay, and I would occasionally get "how-to" pointers from viewers (e.g., light bulbs go down easily, but sheet glass is hard to swallow). Fewer charges of trickery were aimed at dabus than at the other forms, and from my front- row seat I found much of the cutting and slashing reported here convincing. I agree with Archer that though some tricks may be involved, "Those who take part in the ceremony in good faith go so far as to inflict deep wounds on their hands, arms and stomachs, or knock holes in their heads, or cut pieces off their tongues." (Archer 1937, 109) Dabus' Muslim orientation, the lack of a large commercial demand for performances, and the greater rigor of the training involved combine to give it a more respectable reputation than sintren and kuda kepang, which people claim have declined in authenticity in recent years.
10. When I asked who the friends of the prophets were, a troupe member answered vaguely that they were spirits of those strong in Islam. Other troupe members present spoke of being filled by the power of Allah.
11. Descriptions of variants of hobbyhorse dance can be found in Holt (1967, 104-107), Burridge (1961), and two articles by Margaret Kartomi (1973a; 1973b). Kartomi's first article (1973a) describes goong renteng as the musical ensemble at a performance in Cirebon. This, according to my informants, is the more traditional accompaniment, and the use of horses constructed of leather (kuda lumping) more pervasive in the area.
12. Performances described here reflect the practice of the north coast of WestJava, whereJavanese and Sundanese cultures mix. Related forms, probably imported from this coastal area, are practiced by the speakers of pure Sundanese who live in the highlands of West Java.
13. Dabus is found in Malaysia and Sumatra. The stabbing with a weapon is comparable to trance dances in other Arab cultures, see Paul Rabinow (1977, 53-55). But outside influences may have been grafted onto a preexisting tradition, for self-stabbing in trance dance is found in areas which have not undergone Muslimization-the Balinese kris dance is an example. Horse dances are wide- spread in Southeast Asia, especially where Javanese culture has entered. Variants are found in Malaysia, Sunda, and Bali. These dances are probably related to horse dance traditions found from India to England. Sintren's closest cousin may be sanghyang dedari, a Balinese trance form in which prepubescent girls are believed to be entered by the spirit of a heavenly nymph.
14. According to a number of Southeast Asian oral traditions, puppets antedate actors. Although absolute verification of these oral traditions is impos- sible, in Burma, Thailand, and Indonesia this is believed to be the case.
15. Although all performing that undertakes impersonation of another
45
This content downloaded from 128.114.165.87 on Tue, 11 Nov 2014 13:50:09 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
Foley
character uses the performer as a vessel, the performer is not always conceived of as empty. Often the actor is seen as a conscious and conscientious worker. Aristotle asks actors to cultivate their diction (Duerr 1962, 31). Denis Diderot (1957) called for the actor to study human nature with care and imagination until:
He has considered, combined, learnt and arranged the whole thing in his head ... [enabling him to] dip for ever [sic] into the inexhaustible treasure- house of Nature, instead of coming very soon to an end of his own poor resources. (Diderot 1957, 15)
Stanislavski (as quoted by Duerr 1962, 31) admonished, "The more you have of conscious creative movements in your role the more chance you will have of a flow of inspiration."
Even studies such as Cole's Theatrical Event (1975), which use models of spirit impersonation to explain the acting process, tend to emphasize the active pursuit of a character: actors consciously take trips out from themselves to find characters during rehearsals, as shamans take journeys to the spirit world. This later allows the character to come to the actor in performance in a manner comparable to a medium. (Cole 1975, 7) The actor is not seen as empty in these instances.
16. See note 6. 17. I do not wish to denigrate theintensive training in technique that
performers undertake in West Java. The time I have spent attempting to master the puppetry and dance of the area has made me well aware that a performer's work is never done. I also acknowledge that certain performers are felt to be better than others, and these performers often seem more intelligent and effervescent. The emphasis is, however, on the passive. Performers point not to their long practice or personality to explain their success. They say they are good because they descend from a long line of performers, and have the art in their "flesh and blood."
18. Belo (1960, 12) argues that child dancers are especially significant in Balinese culture because their lack of a developed ego makes them good "pup- pets." In West Java, I felt gender was the significant issue, though the sintren is generally prepubescent.
19. SeeJudith Becker (1979). 20. Comments by Allegra Fuller Snyder during a National Endowment
for the Humanities Seminar on Asian Theatre at the University of California, Los Angeles, in the summer of 1981 prompted my thinking on trance and costume.
21. Bourguignon (1973, 5-8) summarizes neurophysical studies of trance behavior. The relation of sex and trance has been explored by Ioan M. Lewis (1971, 30-35, 73-99). He suggests that women are more apt than men to enter trance states as a result of the lack of social and political power in their own personas. The tendency of women and men to be possessed by spirits of the opposite sex is common, and may be a way in which individuals are allowed to relieve frustrations in a socially acceptable way. Trance performance in WestJava does not follow this pattern of cross-gender possession which provides a safety valve.
46
This content downloaded from 128.114.165.87 on Tue, 11 Nov 2014 13:50:09 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
DANCER AND THE DANCED
22. As soon as any pronouncement about Indonesian arts is made, the exception that proves the rule appears. Hence, sintren is sometimes performed with a young boy (in which case it is called lais). The boy can play the goddess, since he is the male at his most female. Dabus, I was told, is never performed by women, but I saw one woman in a performance in 1977. The general principles are, however, as I outline here.
23. My thinking on this was stimulated by Alton Becker (1979, 234). He discusses the principle in relation to the structure of the shadow play.
24. Female demons are rare in dance-dramas in WestJava and are apt to be played by a male when in their demonic form. Rangda, the Balinese witch, is likewise danced by a man.
25. A seminar withJames R. Brandon on Southeast Asian drama in 1975 alerted me to the fact that performance structure and plot could be analyzed separately in wayang theatre.
26. See my Ph.D. dissertation (Foley 1979, 67-76) for more detailed information on the dalang's role.
27. Bourguignon (1976, 42-49) has discussed the tendency for the type of possession trance that I have discussed in this article to occur in rigid, class- stratified societies. Where it pays to be submissive to elders, one is apt to be submissive to spirits.
Indonesia has traditionally been a complex, class-stratified society. The bapak (the older more powerful person who is often a relative) makes many decisions for the younger and weaker individual. In return for obedience and loyalty, the bapak helps him advance. The dalang-dancer model, not suprisingly, can be found in life as well as art. If younger artists want to change their way of creating, it probably comes from the desire for social change. It is probable that a new system of art will emerge if the society becomes firmly fixed on a new social model.
REFERENCES
Archer, Raymond. 1937 "Muhammaden Mysticism in Sumatra." Malayan Branch, Royal Asiatic Society Journal 15, pt. 2 no. 3 (September): 1-127.
Ardiwijaya, Ronny. [1979(?)]. "Sintren: Seni Tradisi." Bulletin Kebudayaan Jawa Barat, Kawit 16, no. 4-2: 16-23.
Becker, Alton L. 1979.
"Text-building, Epistemology and Aesthetics in Javanese Shadow Theatre." In The Imagination of Reality: Essays in Southeast Asian Coherence Systems, edited by Alton L. Becker and Aram Yengoyan, 211-243. Nor- wood, New Jersey: Ablex.
Becker, Judith. 1979. "People Who Sing: People Who Dance." In What Is Modern Indonesian Culture?, edited by Gloria Davis, 3-10. Athens, Ohio: Center for Inter- national Studies.
47
This content downloaded from 128.114.165.87 on Tue, 11 Nov 2014 13:50:09 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
Foley
Belo,Jane. 1960. Trance in Bali. New York: Columbia University Press.
Bourguignon, Erika. 1968. "Trance Dance." Dance Perspectives 35 (Autumn). ,ed. 1973. Religion, Altered States of Consciousness, and Social Change. Columbus, Ohio: Ohio State University Press. 1976.
Possession. San Francisco, California: Chandler and Sharp. Brandon, James R. 1967.
Theatre in Southeast Asia. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Burridge, Kenelm O. L. 1961.
"Kuda Kepang in Batu Pahat, Johore." Man 61: 33-36. Cole, David. 1975.
The Theatrical Event. Middletown, Connecticut: Wesleyan University Press.
Diderot, Denis. 1957. "The Paradox of Acting," translated by Walter Herries Pollock. In "The Paradox of Acting" and "Masks or Faces?", "Introduction" by Lee Strasberg, 3-71. New York: Hill and Wang.
Duerr, Edwin. 1962. The Length and Depth of Acting. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston.
Eliade, Mircea. 1964. Shamanism: Archaic Techniques of Ecstasy. Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press.
Foley, Kathy. 1979. "The Sundanese Wayang Golek: The Rod Puppet Theatre of WestJava." Ph.D. diss., University of Hawaii.
Holt, Claire. 1967. Art in Indonesia. Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press.
Kartomi, Margaret. 1973a. "Jaran Kepang and Kuda Lumping: Trance Dancing in Java." Hemisphere (Sydney) 17, no. 6:20-27.
.1973b. "Music and Trance inJava." Ethnomusicology 17, no. 2:163-208.
Kirby, Ernest Theodore. 1975. Ur-Drama: The Origins of Theatre. New York: New York University Press.
Lewis, Ioan M. 1971. Ecstatic Religion: An Anthropological Study of Spirit Possession and Shamanism. Harmondworth, Middlesex, England: Penguin Books.
Maurenbrecher, E. W. 1940. "Sintren en Lais in Cheribon." Djawa, Tijdschrift van het Java-instituut 20:119-121.
Oesterreich, Traugott Konstantin. [1921] 1966. Possession, Demonical and Other, among Primitive Races, in Antiquity, the Middle Ages, and Modern Times. Translated by D. Ibberson. New Hyde Park, New York: University Books.
48
This content downloaded from 128.114.165.87 on Tue, 11 Nov 2014 13:50:09 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
DANCER AND THE DANCED 49
Rabinow, Paul. 1977.
Reflections on Fieldwork in Morocco. Berkeley, California: University of Cali- fornia Press.
Vredenbregt, Jacob. 1973. "Dabus in West Java." Bidjragen tot de Taal-, Land-, en Volkenkunde 129:302-320.
This content downloaded from 128.114.165.87 on Tue, 11 Nov 2014 13:50:09 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
- Article Contents
- p. [28]
- p. 29
- p. 30
- p. 31
- p. 32
- p. nil
- p. nil
- p. nil
- p. nil
- p. 33
- p. 34
- p. 35
- p. 36
- p. 37
- p. 38
- p. 39
- p. 40
- p. 41
- p. 42
- p. 43
- p. 44
- p. 45
- p. 46
- p. 47
- p. 48
- p. 49
- Issue Table of Contents
- Asian Theatre Journal, Vol. 2, No. 1 (Spring, 1985), pp. 1-94
- Front Matter
- A Note to Readers
- Killing the Self: How the Narrator Acts [pp. 1 - 27]
- The Dancer and the Danced: Trance Dance and Theatrical Performance in West Java [pp. 28 - 49]
- The Multiple Dimensions of Time and Space in Kūṭiyāṭṭam, the Sanskrit Theatre of Kerala [pp. 50 - 60]
- Reports
- Odalan of Hindu Bali: A Religious Festival, a Social Occasion, and a Theatrical Event [pp. 61 - 65]
- Observing Modern Korean Plays [pp. 67 - 70]
- Time and Tradition in Modern Japanese Theatre [pp. 71 - 79]
- Book Reviews
- untitled [pp. 80 - 82]
- untitled [pp. 82 - 83]
- untitled [pp. 83 - 85]
- untitled [pp. 85 - 86]
- untitled [pp. 86 - 87]
- untitled [pp. 87 - 89]
- untitled [pp. 89 - 91]
- untitled [pp. 91 - 92]
- News and Notes [pp. 93 - 94]
- [Obituary: Victor Turner] [p. 94]
- Back Matter