This page provides a reflective dialogue between interviewer Aaricia Ponnet and interviewee Shalan Alhamwy. They both reflect on their collaboration for a lecture-performance they gave during the Bees Saal Baad edition of the South Asian Popular Culture (SAPC) conference in Birmingham, July 2024. The interview was conducted as part of the artistic research for the Working Notes article ‘BO-LA | बो-ला: Exploring Artistic Translation in the Diasporic Practice of South Asian Performance’ that is currently being considered for publication in the journal South Asian Popular Culture (Eds. R. K. Dudrah & G. Rajan; Taylor & Francis). The interview took place in Ghent on November 12th, 2024.
You will find the MP3 audio of the interview, along with an edited transcription. The editing was done by Aaricia Ponnet. The interview was originally conducted in English. Please note that both speakers are L2 speakers of English.
Audio interview
Transcription interview
Aaricia
My name is Aaricia Ponnet. We are in Ghent, Belgium, and it is Tuesday, the 12th of November. I’m sitting here with Shalan Alhamwy. Shalan, can you confirm that you consent to doing this interview and that I may use it for the research paper?
Shalan
Yes, I do.
Aaricia
Okay, great. So, my first question:
The goal of this project — or my main incentive for initiating it — was to explore how the arts can be used as a tool for artistic translation.
What is your experience with music as a tool for translation? Where does the focus lie for you personally? And more specifically, in the context of our project: how did you experience that incentive?
Shalan
I think I was using the common lines of Arabic music — in the sense that there are certain scales that, for most people, sound melancholic, and others that sound less melancholic. I opened our concerts with some of those scales, the ones often associated with melancholy.
In general, I think this is the power of music. It’s still an abstract art form for me, but even so, you can convey emotions through it. In Arabic music, we have a lot of these scales — the maqams — and they offer a wide spectrum of emotions to pick from and combine. Most of the time, the emotions are well conveyed, and the audience understands what you are trying to express.
In our project, I used two scales. The first one was Hejaz, a common Arabic sound that’s typically melancholic. The second one was a bit more hopeful — Kurdi. That came right after the “hair moment,” and it helped create a lighter atmosphere. That was actually our goal at that point in the performance.
Aaricia
And the experience you have with how your music — and the different scales — work as a kind of code to convey emotion to the audience: is that something you’ve developed intuitively over the years? How do you translate your own musical knowledge into emotions that the audience can feel?
Shalan
In the musical tradition I come from, this is actually general knowledge — it’s very well known. If you ask a musician to play something sad, they will probably begin spontaneously with Saba, which is a scale — a maqam — in Arabic music. So there’s a kind of common understanding. And if you ask for something happy, they might play Rast or Bayyati. It’s like an unwritten agreement among musicians about the emotional weight or character of these maqams.
Aaricia
I remember this moment in our collaboration where I was sharing a lot about the concepts and ideas I had incorporated into my dance, and you were kind of expecting me to just say, “I need something sad” or “I need something happy.”
But for me, especially in this performance, the dance is very layered. There are so many experiences I’ve had — as a dancer, as a woman, as a human being — that feed into the movement. It’s not just one emotion; it’s a collection of impressions, almost fragmented.
Do you think something similar is possible with music? And how does that relate to the approach you took in this project?
Shalan
In the beginning, I approached the music almost like a soundtrack — similar to how it’s done in film. As a composer, when you receive a film, usually it’s already edited, everything is there except the music. And then you start thinking about the music by creating what they call an emotion script.
In these emotion scripts, you sketch out the emotional landscape in broad strokes — starting with basic emotions like happiness or sadness, and then moving into more nuanced ones like nostalgia, hope, or stress. These choices also affect the tempo.
The art of composing, I think, lies in saying something with the music — in adding something that isn’t already present, or something that is only subtly implied. That’s why, at the beginning of our project, I asked you: What emotions do you see here?
But actually, in the end, I feel like calling it a soundtrack wasn’t quite right — not an accurate description of the role music played in this project. Because this isn’t a film. There are no words.
Wait — what was the question again?
Aaricia
That question was referring to a specific moment in our collaboration. My reason for asking it was rooted in the contrast between the kind of input I was giving and the type of response you were initially looking for.
Throughout our process, I shared a lot of detailed ideas, concepts, and personal experiences — the things that inspired my movements and shaped the performance. These were very specific and layered. At a certain point, though, you asked me for a kind of macro analysis — like, is this section sad or happy? And for me, my emotional landscape was much more diversified, more fragmented even.
I do feel like, in the end, we arrived at the kind of nuanced, collaborative result I had envisioned — one that allowed for complexity and subtlety. But I was curious to know: how do you move from those broader emotional categories — that kind of macro-emotion thinking — into a musical language that also allows for that same diversity and refinement?
Shalan
Well, it would be a bit much to claim that I really worked on that micro level. Honestly, I didn’t — at least not in the detailed way that you seem to have approached the choreography. For me, it began with something quite technical: choosing an emotion and matching it with a tempo. Then I would try different combinations, experiment a bit, and slowly build up from there — until we arrived at a form that you, as the dancer, and I, as the musician, both felt satisfied with.
It was really like starting from a blank page and building up from scratch. Normally I don’t work like that, and it was definitely a challenge — but also a fruitful one.
Aaricia
Yeah, I remember this — it wasn’t really a conflict of understanding, but more that I had spoken a lot about what I wanted to do and how I viewed artistic translation. Then, when we were in the dance space together, even though I thought I had communicated the task very clearly to you, it wasn’t clear for you at all. You were expecting something quite concrete. So there was kind of a mismatch in communication there, which was interesting to learn.
Shalan
I think musicians and dancers work in different structures, like they have different vocabularies to start with. I think that was the challenge to find each other.
Aaricia
But also, I didn’t have a choreography fixed yet.
Shalan
No.
Aaricia
I wanted to create the dialogue together with you.
Shalan
Well, that was not clear to me. I thought we were beginning from a choreography that’s already there.
Aaricia
And do you have the feeling that the dialogue eventually took place?
Shalan
I think it did. Yeah. But also the risky part — and also the very interesting part — is that if we play this piece ten times, it will be ten different performances. Because, when I speak about the music, I didn’t fix anything except for the tempo and two musical phrases. The rest is all improvised based on the emotion of the moment itself.
Aaricia
That’s how I felt it too, and I really enjoyed that—at this phase of our collaboration—establishing that in-the-moment dialogue, not through words, but through dance and music.
So my second question is already partly answered. The question was: how was your experience working with dance, and Indian dance specifically? Had you worked with dance before?
Shalan
I did work with dance before, mainly ballet, in Syria. We performed ballet pieces, but as a musician, you’re usually positioned below the stage and don’t even see the dancers. Your connection to the dance comes mainly through following the conductor’s baton.
Later, I worked on some shows with flamenco dancers, with Wouter Vanden Abeele and Alexander Gavilan. Even then, it was similar: the music was fully written out, so as a musician, you were performing a set piece, although the dancers could elaborate more.
Before our collaboration, I had no experience with Indian dance. Our work together on the BO-LA project is one of the very few times I’ve had contact with Indian dance.
Aaricia
And was it different to work with Indian dance, in comparison to your experiences with flamenco and ballet? Apart from the fact that the composition was already written.
Shalan
Well, of course, the attitude of the dance itself is different, and that’s also reflected in the music. It’s different music—the energy is different, the rhythms as well. But for me, it’s always more interesting to think of myself as a dancer or to consider the dancer as a musician—to search together for those exciting moments, rather than fixing everything on paper.
Aaricia
I also challenged you to take the stage. So, we—well, I asked you to stand in the middle of the space with me behind you, and I was dancing with you. How was that for you? Because now you’re talking about music being dance, and dance being music, and that’s a challenge that interests you. So, how did you have to step out of your comfort zone to do this? Or was it very natural?
Shalan
Well, if you ask me to dance, it would be going out of my comfort zone. And luckily you didn’t. But as a musician, you are also a performer. You have to think about your connection with the space and where you stand and how you move. So, it was not really out of my comfort zone, no.
Aaricia
We had two presentations: the living room concert in Ghent in June, and a performance at the Bees Saal Baad conference—the South Asian Popular Culture Conference in Birmingham. During the discussion at the Bees Saal Baad conference, someone in the audience remarked that the performance was layered, with each layer carrying its own specific cultural meanings and possible interpretations. The question was then asked: where does the language dynamic situate itself within this?
Shalan
And what do you mean by a language dynamic?
Aaricia
Our project is called BO-LA, which means both “body language” and “it was said” in Hindi. In this project, we use a shared vocabulary and engage in a dialogue by exchanging each other’s codes. It’s art as a form of language. At the same time, we incorporate many different art forms that carry diverse languages, meanings, and cultural implications.
Shalan
And were we saying the same things in these different art forms?
Aaricia
That’s the question.
Shalan
Well, my concern is that I don’t think we were all saying the same things. I think it would be a shame if the audience assumed that everything is communicating the exact same message. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be meaningful to combine different art forms if they all say the exact same thing.
For me, the language was present in the poems and also in the spoken text. There was actual talking, even if in different languages—the poems, Sarita’s explanations, and yours as well. As for the music and the dance, you can see them as abstract art forms. But at the same time, you can place them in the context where they appear and try to find connections.
Both perspectives are legitimate. There’s no right or wrong here.
Aaricia
Yeah, I think it’s also related to the fact that we are working with culturally specific art forms that are often ‘culturised’—Arabic music, for example, is generally recognised as Arabic music, not just “general” music. When people hear those sounds, the audience immediately makes associations with the origins and roots of that music or art form. The same goes for my Indian dance.
This is something I sometimes struggle with here in Belgium because my art form carries many associations, some of which are misinformed. With dance, especially, there are many symbols involved, and often there is an expectation from the audience that they should—or shouldn’t—understand something.
So, by bringing all these elements into our performance, I think we create a rich web of associations for our audience.
Shalan
I think every art form carries certain associations. For example, whenever I listen to Johann Strauss’s music, like a waltz, I immediately associate it with dancing at the Viennese court—people dressed in fancy clothes. Yet, some of his waltzes, as I understand, were not originally composed for that setting. So, as an artist, you work with your medium, and that medium gives you a lot of possibilities because of your knowledge and technical skill. But it doesn’t mean that everything you create within that medium must be understood strictly within its traditional context.
The same goes for Mozart. His classical music is associated with a specific context, but now it is performed everywhere. Similarly, Bach’s music was originally composed for churches, yet nowadays we mostly hear it in concert halls or at home. This doesn’t reduce Bach’s music to just religious music; it simply means it was composed for a particular function. But he has a lot to say, more than just that.
Of course, this applies equally to Indian dance and Arabic music.
Aaricia
It makes me think of this comment you made regarding a colleague musician—an oud player performing a certain Taksim—who expected a particular audience reaction but didn’t get it.
Shalan
Yeah, true. There are some art practices that are connected to some kind of audience reaction. When you don’t get that reaction, the ritual is not there anymore. For example, I was at a concert of Gnawa, yesterday in Ghent. And the audience also reacts in a specific way to those Gnawa artists. And that’s very great to see, actually. But is the performance less without those reactions? I don’t think it is.
Aaricia
Yes. I think this sums up the language dynamic, with the fact that we all come from different art traditions that originate in different geographical places. Yet, it is essential to human beings to move. Not only just, you know, wake up and get out of your bed. But also to move around the globe and find each other in similarities and in differences. And I think that these are indeed all layers, the languages that we speak, the cultural background that we have, the different characters that we have and the different art forms that we practice. This is quite a diversified repertoire that we try to bring together, which we mould into a message that can indeed be layered and interpreted differently by different audience members.
Shalan
Of course, the very famous Arabic poems were apparently composed on the rhythms of the camel walking. Because the Arabs were nomadic people, and they had to take camels in the desert, most of the rhythm of the poems was based on the camel’s rhythm. But I never took a camel in my life — and still I enjoy those rhythmical poems. It’s of course important to know, I think it’s interesting to know the background of those things. But even if you don’t know them, they are enjoyable.
Aaricia
Another remark I received after the performance was that it was a feminist performance — or that it gave off a very feminist vibe. Does the performance carry this load for you as well?
Shalan
Like in the activist, activistic sense, you mean? I don’t think I can give a neutral answer here, because I know the ideas behind it. A big part of it is about your own experience with migraine. And we know it’s a fact that migraine hasn’t been studied enough, because the majority of people who suffer from it are women.
We did this kind of experimental thought process, asking ourselves: what if the majority of people with migraines were men? And our conclusion was—there would probably be more research about it. So yes, I think it is feminist. And for me, it’s eye-opening.
Aaricia
In what way?
Shalan
Like, women got—and still get—lower quality treatment simply because they are women. And I think that’s absurd. It’s a flaw, a bug in our human history. And every repetition of that fact is, for me, necessary. Even though I’m not a woman myself, I support those statements—because they’re true.
Aaricia
Yeah. I’m thinking again about our performance and our dialogue. I had these ideas in mind when I was creating my movements. But I’m not sure they were necessarily in your mind when you were playing the music during the performance — or were they?
Shalan
I think they were. Even if I’m not aware of those.
Aaricia
Yeah. Okay.
There was a question about the layers of Syrian and Arabic modal music. You already touched on it a bit at the beginning of the interview — that different maqams can be associated with different emotions. In Indian classical arts, there’s actually a theory for this, called rasa theory. It outlines the different emotions you can invoke in an audience, and it’s quite elaborated in the theory of aesthetics that is still practiced today.
So it was interesting to hear that, based on what you said, it seems like there isn’t such a written canon in Arabic music that prescribes which maqam should be played for a certain emotional context. Or is there?
Shalan
I think it’s less sophisticated than the Indian system. For example, most of the Arabic countries are Muslim, and there are prayers — the call to prayer is sung by the sheikhs five times a day, from the mosques. And you hear that in the city. There’s a rule that for each time of day, it should be done in a specific maqam. There’s some literature written about connecting maqams to a certain time of day. Like in the evening, you play a specific maqam, in the morning, another one.
The Sufi musicians also had some literature about that. For me, I don’t agree with it — because the maqam they connect with the night, I hear it with a totally different emotional load than what night means to me personally. But yes, they did think about those things.
Aaricia
It makes me think about the ragas in the Indian arts system, because there are also ragas that are connected to morning time or evening time, for instance. Do you know anything about the connection between maqam and raga?
Shalan
Very vaguely.
Aaricia
Yeah, okay. How was it for you to bring this performance to the conference? A conference about South Asian popular culture. Your experience with South Asian and Indian arts mainly comes through our collaboration and through working with Sarita. You’ve also met a few Indian artists over the years. But now you presented a performance based on a South Asian art form at a conference focused on South Asian popular culture. How did you experience that?
Shalan
It was nice. I think the audience was very selective—they really know a lot about this art form, they consume it even. My idea was to bring something they’re not used to—something they could relate to but that could also surprise them. And I think many of them gave that kind of feedback. They said the music was surprising, and we even got very technical feedback about the Tihais we used and that they were well done. So, it was actually interesting to experiment with something new and immediately get feedback from a knowledgeable audience. It was interesting.
Aaricia
Thank you very much for this interview.
Shalan
You’re welcome.