After the killing fields of the Khmer Rouge, traditional Cambodian dance lives on

By Nancy Wozny

Dancing “to save your life” has a literal meaning for classical Cambodian dancer, teacher, and choreographer Sophiline Cheam Shapiro. Sophiline, now 41, lived through some of the most turbulent times in her country’s history. She was 8 years old when the Khmer Rouge took over Cambodia in 1975. She lost her father, two brothers, her grandmother, and many other relatives during this time, as most families did. Today Sophiline is one of the most significant artists in the movement for the preservation of classical Cambodian dance.

Dances like Apsara, performed by Khmer ArtsAcademy, include stylized movements with sculpted hand gestures that communicate a story. (Photo by Michael Burr)

Sophiline’s story reveals the deep connections between a country’s culture and politics. From 1975 to 1979 the dancers of the royal court, all graduates of the National School of Fine Arts (NSFA), which has had various names over the years, went into hiding for fear of being killed by the Khmer Rouge, which ruled Cambodia during that time. With a motto of “To keep you is no benefit, to kill you is no loss,” the regime is most remembered for the brutal deaths of 1.5 million Cambodians.

During that regime, an estimated 90 percent of Cambodia’s classical dancers perished, and the art form seemed to face certain extinction. After the Vietnamese drove out the Khmer Rouge in 1979, the remaining dancers sought out each other for support. In 1980, the government organized a national arts festival in Phnom Penh in order to determine how many artists were still alive, and in 1981 the National School of Fine Arts reopened.

However, the new government questioned the relevancy of an art form associated with the gods, royalty, and feudalism. So for the second time in its 1,000-year history, classical Cambodian dance faced extinction. Its survival came at a cost: The government heavily politicized the dances with new themes that glorified Marxism and Leninism. It then sent out a troupe of NSFA students and faculty (on foreign tours, it was sometimes called the Classical Dance Company of Cambodia) to sell its socialist message to the villagers in remote provinces.

With the fall of the Khmer Rouge, civil war broke out in Cambodia and few were safe, including the dance troupe, which Sophiline had joined after graduating in 1988 in the first class of the reborn academy. They performed outdoors on makeshift stages and traveled during the day, says Sophiline, because it was safer. “Every time we performed there was a chance we would be killed; after all, we were representing the government. We were aware of the danger we were in; there were land mines everywhere.”

Sophiline remembers one show that involved the god of thunder and the goddess of water; during a performance Khmer Rouge guerrillas showed up with weapons in hand. “Everything we did was political then—thunder may have [represented] capitalism,” she explains. She believes that the guerrillas intended to kill the troupe that day. Instead, they stayed and seemed to enjoy the dance. “Even though the work we were dancing was essentially government propaganda, the form shines through the politics. Art goes beyond this political message; it’s about beauty and the continuity of our culture,” says Sophiline. “I would like to believe [the guerrillas] connected to the beauty of the dance.”

Sophiline’s immediate family included no artists, but she found support for her life as a dancer in her extended family and teachers. She credits her uncle, Cheng Phom, the minister of culture from 1981 to 1989, as an important influence. She also mentions her dance teacher Soth Sam On as a significant mentor. “They are my heroes,” she says. “I saw them rebuild and revive classical Cambodian dance out of the ash; that was something that stayed with me. When I moved to California [to teach in 1991], I could see myself in the same situation as my uncle and my teacher—I had to start from scratch.”

Classical Cambodian dance originated in the Hindu temples of Angkor as part of the royal court. The slow, hypnotic dances were considered a form of ritual prayer. Dances linked heaven and earth—a central theme in Cambodian thought—and were believed to offer protection against floods, wars, and diseases. Today, because the country is primarily Buddhist, the dances are no longer performed as part of a religious service, though they may still be done in temples or at the royal court. They often portray Hindu mythology, which “typically tells morality tales that transcend religious classification,” says John Shapiro, Sophiline’s husband.

The dominant aesthetic in Cambodian dance involves fluidity in the arms, with the fingers bent back to form a crescent shape, the toes usually flexed, and the lower back slightly arched. A tremendous degree of suppleness and strength is required, and there is a sense of constant flow. Dances, either solos or ensemble works, include stylized movements with sculpted hand gestures (actually an alphabet) that communicate the story to the audience. The elaborate costumes of patterned silk skirts are decorated with sequins and din (metal spirals) arranged in a distinctly Cambodian pattern, usually diamond shapes. The pointed, gold headdress, or mkot, and gold-painted jewelry add to the majesty of the dancer. Though classical dance is primarily a female form, men dance as well, in roles such as monkeys, hermits, pirates, scribes, horses, and birds.

Today Sophiline and John run Khmer Arts, which includes four components in two countries: The academy, based in Long Beach, California; Khmer Arts Ensemble, a 31-member professional dance company based in Cambodia; a media project; and an archive. The couple and their twin 8-year-old boys travel between Cambodia and Long Beach frequently. “It’s difficult but beneficial, because it allows me to build connections in two places,” says Sophiline. “It’s important that we continue to have a presence in Cambodia, and being at the source connects me to the roots of the form itself.”

For John, who manages the organization, the success of the operation depends on having both sites be self-sustaining. Economic factors are involved as well; the cost of living in Cambodia is far less than in the United States. “It would be impossible to maintain a company of that size in California,” says John.

Prior to launching the academy in 2002 Sophiline taught at several Cambodian community organizations in Long Beach. “In 2002 it became apparent that we needed more tools—greater access to resources that would lead to the program’s growth and development—and it became more practical to have our own organization,” says John. Long Beach has the largest Cambodian population outside of Asia. An exchange program at Long Beach State University and a nearby military base that dealt with displaced populations after the war combined to create a critical mass of Cambodians, continuing the growth of the community. “The first wave of immigrants then sponsored the next wave,” says John. “Long Beach is considered the capital of the Cambodian diaspora.”

The academy, based in the “Cambodia Town” section of Long Beach, offers free training for students ages 5 through adult in a 2,200-square-foot warehouse. Some parents donate $20 a month, but contributing is not mandatory. “Most of this generation of parents were exposed to dance classes in refugee camps, where it was free,” says John. “So parents may pay for their children’s music classes, but dance was always free.” Classes, which last two hours and take place four days a week, are taught by a faculty of five, which includes Sophiline when she is on site. The class structure allows for students to come only once a week or as many as four times a week.

There is no set curriculum for teaching classical Cambodian dance. “This form exists in the mind and the body of the dancer-teacher, and this is the way it has been taught since the beginning,” says John. Each class begins with a set warm-up that involves hand and elbow stretches necessary to get the correct shape of the hands.

Dancers start their training between ages 5 and 8. “Training is very hands-on,” says Sophiline. “And one-on-one coaching is part of the tradition. I prefer for the whole class to benefit from that kind of instruction, so if I am working on a small detail I want the entire class to benefit.”

“Students at the National School of Fine Arts start their training at 8 years old and graduate at 18. For the Khmer Arts Ensemble, we give them advanced training after that,” says John. “So in a sense, training never ends. Students who have joined our Long Beach faculty have trained for a minimum of five years.”

Performance is a big part of the students’ life at the academy. “Everyone can perform in the Cambodian new year celebration in April,” says Sophiline, “while our more serious students perform in various festivals and universities. We mix the students with professionals, faculty, and guest artists.” Sophiline believes the time will come when her top students may join the professional troupe.

The Khmer Arts Ensemble dancers, all graduates of NSFA, perform a classical canon along with new work and tour the world with seven musicians and two singers. The repertory includes works created mostly during the 1950s and 1960s, which was an extraordinarily creative time, and new works by Sophiline. The company also boasts the largest collection of classical Cambodian costumes in the world, and that includes Cambodia. “The goal is to make the ensemble self-sufficient, as it receives no funding from the government,” says John.

There is no set curriculum for teaching classical Cambodian dance. ‘This form exists in the mind and the body of the dancer-teacher, and this is the way it has been taught since the beginning.’ —John Shapiro

Sophiline’s work exists in two worlds: The company performs at such high-profile art events as the Venice Biennale as well as at world dance festivals. Last November Sophiline’s Shir Ha-Shirim, set to John Zorn’s music, premiered at the Guggenheim Museum in New York as part of the museum’s Works & Process program. Her somewhat controversial dances reflect and criticize Cambodian culture and tell contemporary stories from the Cambodian diaspora.

“Our work is not ethno-nostalgia, in that we are not just interested in re-creating a Cambodia of the past,” says John. Sophiline’s groundbreaking 2000 dance, Samritechak (based on Othello), which premiered in Phnom Penh, dealt with the Khmer Rouge’s failure to assume responsibility for its actions. Sophiline’s 2002 piece, The Glass Box, explores the confinements of tradition, while her seminal Seasons of Migration (2005), which toured the United States, deals with culture shock.

Khmer Arts Media is building a collection of books, films, videos, and recordings. So far it has produced one full-length documentary, on Seasons of Migration, a book, and four music CDs. The Shapiros are working with a German organization to produce their first feature film. The fourth component of Khmer Arts is the archives, kept in Cambodia, with digitized versions available to the public at Phnom Penh’s Audiovisual Resource Center Bophana. “After 1979, there were only a handful of artists that brought [classical dance] back to life; the world almost lost this precious art form,” says John. “The archive exists to protect from that ever happening again.”

Sophiline has distinguished herself as a choreographer and teacher who is moving Cambodian dance further into relevancy for today’s global culture. She believes that her mission is larger than serving just the Cambodian people. “I want to make dances that respond to the world I live in,” she says. “This is for all of humanity. I wanted to bring this knowledge to the world.”

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