Marina Celander, a veteran dance instructor through Brooklyn Arts Council’s SU-CASA creative aging program, delves into how she and her senior students transcended the generational and digital divides that have become the hallmarks of COVID-19.
Marina Celander radiates enthusiasm. In the hula classes she teaches, pupils of all ages can expect to receive her unique blend of patience, good humor, and pragmatism. From their first ‘kaholo – the side-step used in hula – to their first `Ami – the dance’s iconic hip rotation – Marina will be there to cheer them on; just as her mentors had been there for her many years earlier.
Her love affair with the traditional dance began with a trip to the Big Island – the Island of Hawai'i – that serendipitously coincided with the Merrie Monarch Hula competition and festival, an epic and storied showcase of all things hula. “I saw hula everywhere,” Marina says. “I was blown away, especially by hula kahiko, ancient hula. It defied all my previous notions and expectations of hula. It was powerful, fierce, proud, and deeply profound.”
Ultimately, it was what rested behind hula’s ferocious facade – the lore, the history, the tales of resistance – that drew in the educator. “When I teach hula now, I am always aware of what all my hula teachers have imparted on me: Hula must be taught in a cultural context, it cannot be taught just as steps. Hula is part of life; hula is all the things you see, hear, smell, taste, touch, and feel. Hula is life,” Marina says.
““Hula belongs to Hawai’i’s native people, and it is with utmost respect that I share hula basics with the people, young and old, in New York.””
Upon returning to New York City, Marina began looking across all five boroughs for mentorship; it was a search that rivaled scouting for a free parking spot in Bay Ridge, or affordable housing in Cobble Hill. Ballet masters were easy enough to find, as were bachata experts. Those knowledgeable in hula, however, were underground.
Finally, several years later, Marina found her people. “I started learning hula from the Hawai'i Cultural Foundation, with Michelle Nalei Akina, Janu Cassidy, and Keo Mailani Woolford,” Marina says. “After a couple of years studying I had the chance to study hula kahiko with Kumu hula June Tanoue of Halau i Ka Pono in Chicago, and then I had the fortune of joining Kumu hula Vicky Holt Takamine's halau, or hula school, Pua Ali’i ‘Ilima o Nuioka.”
It was at this point in her hula education that Marina felt the urge to begin sharing the skills she’d spent so long trying to acquire with others who might otherwise never encounter such performance, let alone perform themselves. Like so many parts of Marina’s hula journey, this too transpired by good fortune. “I started teaching hula in my own children's afterschool program,” she says. “I fell into it. I had originally asked someone who was frequently teaching hula to keiki, children, around the city if they could teach hula at my children's school, but that fell through and the afterschool asked me to teach instead.” The class was such a success that Marina continued seeking out opportunities in Brooklyn and elsewhere to introduce others to the history and movements of the legendary dance. Eventually, Marina applied to become a Brooklyn Arts Council teaching artist. Through the program, she was placed at Philip Howard NORC, a senior residence in Midwood.
“The participants enjoyed the in-person classes with Marina and found it very therapeutic,” says Kurlene Smith, Director of Programs at Philip Howard NORC. “At first, they didn’t know what to expect but Marina provided the participants with a hula demonstration and information on the Hawaiian culture and history which made them better understand hula. The participants were highly engaged, happy and focused during Marina's in person classes.”
On March 16, this all changed. As the pandemic’s casualty toll spiked across New York state, disproportionately impacting the elderly, Marina’s hula classes at Philip Howard were canceled. As senior centers endeavored to keep their residents safe, they prohibited all visitors. New York Pause, the state’s gentler term for its shelter-in-place initiative, had taken effect.
“When the city shut down, my life pretty much came to a complete and absolute standstill from one day to the next,” Celander says.
““It was pretty intense to go from being super busy, teaching at various locations every day all across the city, to being abruptly homebound with nothing to do.””
But Marina has never been one to sit still for very long. The artist is accustomed to being on her feet for hours at the schools and senior homes where she teaches – and when she is not dancing with others, she is dancing by herself. Motivated to create and move as she did before New York Pause, she began making instructional hula videos for her senior students at Philip Howard NORC. Setting up a camera in her Brooklyn living room, Marina rose to the artistic challenge. “It was a steep learning curve to make videos; learning to take into account everything in your surrounding as you film yourself – light, sound, and the room you teach in – as well as figuring out equipment, editing, and the platforms I upload my videos to, and how to protect my content,” Marina explains. “There is more ‘heavy lifting’ involved with creating remote learning content, in that there are so many more areas not related to my expertise that I have to consider.”
There was also the question of access. Marina was uncertain whether these virtual lessons – absent their usual communal electricity, live instruction, and musical accompaniment – would achieve the popularity of her in-person classes. But despite common assumptions about elders and tech-savviness, the facts have always been optimistic, and even more so during a healthcare crisis in which tele-commutes and video conferences have become the status quo. Last year, Pew Research issued an enlightening report on technology adoption among older adults. The think tank found that 42% of adults over 65 own smartphones, nearly 70% rely on the internet for daily tasks and correspondence, and one-in-ten access the world wide web numerous times a day. The audience was there; individuals and companies had simply neglected to take notice.
Marina’s videos were everything the residents at Philip NORC had been craving: A familiar face, a reason to move around, and an artistic challenge of their own. As the videos became a wild success, other nursing homes, hearing of Philip Howard’s virtual program offerings, called Marina, requesting her videos.
“They are being distributed to all the residents at the Philip Howard NORC, including eight additional sites,” Marina says.
““I am encouraged and fueled by the thought that my videos, from week to week, can brighten someone’s day, create more space to breathe, relax, smile, and feel a moment of joy in this very difficult and stressful time.””
“Residents mentioned that even though it’s not the same experience as the in-person classes, they enjoy dressing up every week and participating in hula,” says Kurlene. “Residents mentioned that Marina's instructions are easy to follow and what they like is that they can practice hula dance with music and explanation of the meaning of the different moves. During conversations with the residents they described hula using the following words: Graceful, relaxing, fun, gentle, and lovely."
As Marina’s students anticipate the day when they can finally see their beloved hula teacher in person once more, they have – through the endless marvels of technology – succeeded in making six new friends named Lenore, Spock, Nimona, Blackberry, Kalo, and Chibi. Marina’s rescue cats frequently meander across her bright red couch as she records her hula lessons. Perching on armrests and meandering into the camera’s frame, they observe the Brooklyn artist at work.