SDSU Prof Hopes to Save Traditions of Folk Dance

Graham Hempel is a man with a mission--to spread the gospel of folk dance in San Diego.

“I see the graying of folk dance clubs,” says the San Diego State University dance professor. “The median age is getting older and older and I am fearful folk dance is dying out. In this ‘Me generation,’ all the folk art forms are falling by the wayside.”

The ancient art of folk dancing reached its zenith in America during the late 1960s and early ‘70s, when the “hippie” movement rejected modern technology and turned to the ways of the past for security in an uncertain world. During those years, folk ensembles such as the L.A.-based AMAN troupe, experienced a renaissance. And Hempel, with his mastery of the obscure dances of Soviet Georgia, was a featured artist.

Hempel’s hair has turned gray since then. So has his bushy mustache. And his beefy build is not in shape for the punishing athleticism of Georgian dance. But in his prime, Hempel could jump up onto the tips of his toes and come crashing down to earth for a hard landing on bent knees in the powerful dance style that evolved only in the remote Georgian sector of the Soviet Union.

This exhilarating Georgian folk form, the dance world’s only macho equivalent of balletic pointe work, developed completely apart from the ethereal toe dancing that characterizes ballet, and never spread to other cultures. Now, the rugged toe dancing and virile, Cossack-style stomping of Georgian dance is becoming yet another lost folk dance tradition.

“I’m getting too heavy to do that kind of dancing any more,” Hempel said. “And I haven’t heard of anyone doing it, except the Khadra Dance Group, which I formed in San Francisco about 15 years ago. I trained all the men to do toe dancing, but only a few are still around.”

There are hundreds of different dances lumped under the umbrella of folk dance. Each one evolved independently in little pockets of peasant culture across the continents. These diverse folk forms continue to wield an artistic influence on the world of dance. In their natural forms, however, traditional peasant dances were performed much like ballroom and disco dancing is today.

“Now, folk dancing is a stage art form,” Hempel says, “but in the villages, it was danced at weddings, funerals, and festivals. It was the dance of the people, and there are as many different folk dance forms as there are cultures and sub-cultures. That must add up to thousands. I don’t know one culture that doesn’t dance.”

Why, then, is folk dancing facing extinction? Why, out of university population of 35,000 is it possible to get only 15 students enrolled in a folk dancing class?

“I don’t know, I’m baffled,” Hempel says. “Ignorance has hurt folk dancing more than anything. People think it’s simple and it’s boring. But it isn’t. There has been a lot of stereotyping--making it look quaint. Ballet choreographers did it a disservice by showing mazurkas and czardas mixed with ballet moves. And the costuming is usually more of a fantasy than anything . . . authentic.”

Hempel’s determination to preserve the art form here in San Diego led him to create the San Diego Folk Ensemble three years ago. He and about 20 kindred spirits from the community meet regularly to learn new folk dances and to polish their skills at executing the smorgasbord of styles that comprise the company’s growing repertory.

This weekend, the dancers and musicians of the San Diego Folk Ensemble will show their wares at SDSU’s Studio Theater. The pair of concerts, slated for 8 p.m. Friday and Saturday, spans the globe for inspiration, although only nine countries will be represented in the dancing.

This is just a small sampler, but it reflects the diversity of folk dance styles--the effortless gliding of the women’s dancing in Soviet Georgia, the lively Hungarian couples dance known as the czardas, the swaying hips and facile semaphores of traditional Tahitian dance, the disciplined humor of the Swedish oxen dance, the delicate lyricism of the Chinese ribbon dance, and the earthy exuberance and fleet-footed pounding of the Appalachian clog dance--the ancestor of tap.

The San Diego Folk Ensemble makes no claims at professionalism. But Hempel believes the overall quality of the concert will be better this year than last, due to the addition of a few women with well-honed technique.

Hempel admits to doing some “editing” of the original folk forms to make the dances stage-worthy. And he concedes that finding the right balance between authenticity and entertainment is tricky business, particularly since choreographers have refined the steps over the years.

“Researchers brought the styles from villages, and each folk form is distinct. But you have to make some condensation of styles to present it on stage, because there’s a lot of repetition, and that can be boring. I may distill things, but I don’t change anything for the sake of theatricality.”