Farzaneh Kaboli must have her head covered for the newspaper picture. When the Globe and Mail photographer arrives at the coffee shop where we are having our interview, I give her my shawl so she can be properly dressed. Kaboli must walk this line because she is a choreographer in post-Islamic revolution Iran.
Before the revolution, Kaboli was Iran's most famous dancer, the glittering star of the internationally renown Mahalli Dancers.
Today, at the age of 59, she is a teacher-choreographer without an audience. Only on special occasions can her dances be performed in public and, even then, at the risk of being jailed or fined. Kaboli has been imprisoned twice, and on several other occasions has had to pay heavy fines owing to public-decency complaints that came after the fact.
She simply does not know how these public dances will be received.Kaboli is in Toronto choreographing 13 new works for Ida Meftahi's Vashton Dance in conjunction with the Conference on Islamic Studies. Under the umbrella title of This Dance, I Wish, the concert is a celebration of Iranian movement traditions. At the coffee shop, Meftahi, a doctoral student at the University of Toronto in Middle Eastern studies, is acting as our translator. She is also a former dance student of Kaboli's.
"Farzaneh was supposed to bring her company, Harekat, to perform at the conference, but because of the climate of the times, the organizers were not able to get visas for her dancers," Meftahi says. "She was devastated. I came up with the solution of her setting dances on a Canadian ensemble."
Kaboli was born into a family that loved the arts. At school, she was always creating choreography for shows, although she had no dance training. She was also a talented athlete and a champion high jumper. She thought that she would study medicine until her father saw an ad in the newspaper announcing the opening of a new dance college, the Iranian National and Folkloric Dance Academy, the training arm of the equally new National Folklore Society of Iran. She became a student in the first class when she was 18, and later the principal dancer of Mahalli, the dance company that grew out of the school.
The former Iranian empress Farah Pahlavi was very interested in dance. The Royal Ballet's Robert de Warren and his wife, Jacqueline, were brought over to Iran in 1965 to bring the Iranian Ballet up to international standards. Kaboli explains that at the same time, the couple, through the auspices of their newly established Folklore Society, which was funded by the empress, visited every part of Iran documenting ethnic and regional dance.
"The students would see these films," Kaboli says. "Mr. de Warren would play traditional music, and I would improvise using movements culled from these various dances, which he would codify. From these 'national' movements, dances could be developed based on themes embedded in Persian poetry, painting and mythology. While ballet was the technique of training, creating Iranian national dance was the goal."
Kaboli also began to choreograph on a professional level. Her first great triumph was the solo she created for Iran's lavish 1971 celebration for the 2,500th anniversary of the Persian Empire. Eight years later, with the coming of the Islamic Revolution, public dance was abolished and Kaboli's career was over. The dance school was turned into a government office building.
Talking about this time brings on a flood of tears. "I just wanted to dance," she sobs. Privately, Kaboli became part of Tehran's underground dance movement, teaching and choreographing in an ad hoc studio at her home. Publicly, she became one of Iran's most famous actresses, appearing in theatre, film and television. Kaboli's students came to her through word of mouth and she continued to create dances for them that would never be seen. The gradual resurrection of dance - now officially called "rhythmical movement" - beginning in the late 1990s under the moderate cultural policies of then-president Mohammad Khatami, is one of the great miracles of modern-day Iran. The current president, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, has imposed more restrictions.
In this new style, Kaboli eliminated hip and shoulder physicalities, any kinetic impulse that might be construed as sexual. Flowing costumes conceal the body. In this way, "rhythmical movement" is allowed in public performances.
Kaboli founded her company, Harekat, in 1999, and it has given concerts once a year for all-female audiences at the Italian and French embassies. She has also been commissioned to create "rhythmical movement" works by government officials for special occasions, especially for all-male companies, but she says they are few and far between and subject to conservative backlash.
The question about her life in dance today brings on more tears. "My whole life is dance," she says, wiping her eyes.
As Meftahi points out: "Farzaneh is Iran's most famous choreographer and teacher. She has such a connection to music that she is able to render the complexities and intricacies of Persian musical forms into meaningful movement. Her students have gone on to all parts of the world carrying her spirit with them."
And Kaboli's last words: "I apologize for my tears."
Kaboli's This Dance, I Wish is performed at Toronto's Isabel Bader Theatre Aug. 8-10, Ottawa's Alumni Theatre, Aug. 15, and Montreal's Salle Oscar Peterson, Aug. 16.