DANCING THROUGH BOUNDARIES

DANCING THROUGH BOUNDARIES
by Katharine Vigmostad

This paper was originally written for a course at The University of Iowa, entitled Theories of Dance and the Body. This course explored varying theories and points of view on physical embodiment, and how our understanding of corporeality affects the way we view, experience, and utilize dance.


Introduction

The human body is inherently restricted in its ability to perform actions – and each one unique in its degree of limitations. How do we, as dancers, performers, and choreographers, respect these boundaries while still pursuing an aesthetic goal? How do intricate power relationships play into and complicate this issue in the dance world? How do current dance training practices lend to the formation of a dancer’s identity, and how does this identity, in turn, inform dancers’ participation in and proliferation of these complex and often imbalanced power structures? I believe these issues to be salient, and in need of exploitation in the practice and performance of dance, for their consequences yield considerable authority in the making and treatment of dancers and their subsequent relationship with their chosen profession. The power relationships established in the dance world have dominating tendencies, often cross ethical boundaries, and are rarely addressed in dance classrooms or rehearsal settings. I hope to reveal some of the mechanics of the complex relationships set up between dance teachers/choreographers and dance students/dancers, in the hopes that the awareness of such issues is capable of beginning a process of transition, leading to a more democratic and holistic approach to the practice, making, and performance of this art form. I will draw support from articles written by dance scholars and will try to focus my writing on 20th century concert dance and movement modalities, and draw from my own experiences in these disciplines.



Forming a dancer’s identity

As I grew up with dance, it has been an integral part of my identity, and my identification process. My identity has always included the statement: “I am a dancer” – a statement that bleeds into the way I see and respond to my surroundings; I learn best through my kinesthetic sense, gaining insight and information through/from other’s bodies and their postures and movements. Andre Grau states that, “…identity is structured by otherness and vice versa…” and “is bound to the dynamics of interactions.” (Grau, 190-191). Our identity, then, is continuously being constructed through the reflection and/or deflection of difference. I think this is key in the development of a dancer’s identity in particular, because the body, being the form’s medium of expression, and a constant in the human experience, is so easily compared to others in the dance classroom and/or on stage. A dancer’s body must be trained, scrutinized, and controlled; body ideals are clearly stated by the visibility of such canonical statures in dance performances. Isabelle Ginot writes, “…contemporary dancers’ memories… have shown that one of the key guiding factors of their training is identity. The question is whether to succeed or not in ‘becoming a dancer,’ in conforming to the real or fictional images of this ‘being a dancer’ and its identity, perceived as both repressive and desirable.” (Ginot, p. 251 – 252) A dancer who does not “fit the mold” physically is aware of their potential to “succeed” in the contemporary dance world because of this factor. Comparison with other dancers is encouraged from the beginning, and this early cultivation of “what a dancer looks like” into the minds of young dancers becomes an integral part of their notion of self-worth and, subsequently, their identity. The objectification of a dancer comes from teachers and spectators as well. Susan Foster reveals the early ballet establishment’s role in promoting this behavior. Foster states, “Capitalist marketing strategies in the early nineteenth century supported and enhanced the objectified dancing body and the commodified female dancer. They pitted one ballerina against another in intensive, objectifying advertising campaigns.” (The ballerina’s phallic pointe, p. 6) These tactics to increase ballet’s popularity drove dance companies to create the image of drama and competition within the walls of their organization. Eventually, these stories manifested into reality, and competitive dynamics are still prevalent and a driving force in the field of dance.


Disciplining a dancer

A certain amount of masochism is built in to the training of a contemporary dancer. Pain is often explained as a sign of “growing” and “getting stronger”, and those who cannot endure it are not expected to go very far in the field; I can remember being reprimanded many times in pointe class for wanting to take my shoes off when my feet were numb and bleeding. It is no question that dance training, like all sports and physical training endeavors, is physically, mentally and emotionally challenging. But these extreme and coercive training methods from such a young age instill into the minds of dancers extensive amounts of competition and insecurity, which will eventually travel with them into the rest of their lives, both within and without the dance world. Dancers are often asked to perform movements which are potentially injurious to their bodies, and, because of their ingrained and debilitating work ethic, usually do not contest. The average professional dancer’s career is approximately 10 – 15 years (according to the few articles I could find on the subject) the majority of which end due to severe injury or prolonged overuse. For a dancer, jobs are few and far between. Choosing to not oblige a choreographer’s demands based on physical limit or moral/ethical belief is nearly impossible without serious consequence. Not only will this behavior most likely guarantee a dancer’s firing from their current job, but their reputation will also be soiled, preventing future jobs from manifesting. I think this perception of dance being “both repressive and desirable”, as Ginot points out, is a key factor in the cycle of power relations built up around the dance medium, and plays an important role in our understanding some of these central and multivalent power-dynamics present in the practice and making of dances.
The structure of dance training, in particular the study of Classical Ballet, seems to have developed from the disciplinary foundations set by institutions such as the military. The parallels are most apparent in the desire to control and dominate the body in the hopes to create a body that functions efficiently for the profit of the institution it serves. In Discipline and Punishment Michel Foucault writes about the evolution of institutionalized disciplines, and comments about the point in history when disciplinary modalities were becoming codified. Foucault explains, “What was then being formed was a policy of coercions that act upon the body, a calculated manipulation of its elements, its gestures, its behaviour... Discipline produces subjected and practiced bodies, ‘docile’ bodies. Discipline increases the forces of the body (in economic terms of utility) and diminishes the forces of the body (in political terms of obedience.)” (Docile Bodies, Foucault, p. 138) As the dance-pupil commits him or herself to the dance discipline their ability to conform to set standards grants them a certain amount of usability. It becomes the dance student’s goal to be desired by their teacher(s) and choreographers at large, and will most likely abandon their own needs/desires in order to achieve the other’s objectives. It is difficult for these cycles to be broken for many reasons. One may be that dance instructors and choreographers were taught in a similar way, and are propelling this mindset in the following generation through their classes and choreographic works. There is an expectation in most dance classrooms that the dance teacher – at least for the few hours that they are in charge – holds the power and should be respected to the point of tacit obedience from the pupil. This experience of self-repression becomes so ingrained in the student, that questioning the teacher’s knowledge of the subject becomes a taboo, and such questions of ethics (as far as I have seen in contemporary dance classes) are rarely raised. This paradigm then translates into the rehearsal process, where the choreographer’s will becomes the dancer’s mission and inspiration. It is a bizarre phenomenon that one day a dancer may suffer extreme physical pain, endure scrutinizing judgment based on their looks or lack of talent, yet they will still show up to a dance class or rehearsal the next day in an attempt to fulfill their own, and other’s projected, expectations/desires. The layers of power relationships in these classroom and rehearsal settings are extremely hard to understand and decipher, and I have only just touched the surface of such issues. A full disclosure of these relationships would certainly require an in-depth look into psychology, and other areas of pertinent human-dynamic research; nevertheless, I have tried to reveal something of these dynamics from my own experience in the field of dance.


Accepting the limits of corporeality

With the current acceptable dance training modality in place, it is clear that dancers are instructed and expected to apply techniques presented by the teacher without thought of its potential injury to their body. Sandra Fraleigh states, “Whether I like it or not, my particular embodiment and my images of its powers and limitations condition my general comportment in life... Not only is my body mine – but I belong to it. I experience myself as implicated by my body.” (Dance and the Lived Body, p. 17) Fraleigh continues by illuminating the downfalls of a dualistic approach to dancing, drawing insight from existential phenomenology in her pursuit to reveal the separation of mind and body in the language and mindset of contemporary dancers. I think that this dualism, which is prevalent in the entirety of the western paradigm, is detrimental to all power-based structures. In the dance world, this dualistic viewpoint lends to the promotion of controlling the body; the mind is viewed as the agency by which the body is moved and utilized. From this foundation, dance students are trained to objectify themselves in the learning process, leading to ignorance of the body’s functioning and inherent limits, and, therefore, unconsciously damaging themselves through their exertions.

I realize that I have painted a very grey image of a traditional dance career. I have not focused on beneficial aspects of concert dance, only so that I could raise and investigate salient issues in the dance field that are so oft overlooked. I am not interested in discouraging the progression and continuation of concert dance; quite the contrary, I hope only for betterment and prospering to occur in the field (a field in which I am an active participant.) I think that with consideration of our treatment and training of dancers, education in the areas of movement analysis, biomechanics and anatomy, the dance world has potential to bloom into a new and exciting era of movement exploration. Dancers could become relatively injury-free, self-sufficient in remaining so, and capable of pushing the envelope of movement potential. This is an idealized vision, but one that I believe is (and have seen living proof of) possible. I do not think that it is possible to completely avoid injury, pain, or discomfort on all fronts – accidents and disagreements always happen. But, the amount and degree to which one damages their body should and can be held at bay.

In my study of the human body, and its various ways of moving, I have progressed from Ballet to Improvisational dance, to Modern and Contemporary dance forms, to Yoga, and most recently the study of movement analysis - absorbed primarily by the Axis Syllabus (AS). Frey Faust, the main synthesizer of the AS and author of numerous dance articles on related topics, writes of he and the AS’s goals in an article titled The Pedagogical Thesis of the Axis Syllabus, “Consistent with the natural environment that produced us, nowhere in the human body is there any evidence of a straight line or flat surface. It follows then that the most logical way to train the body would be through non-linear, undulatory, tri-axial motion. We could consider this kind of movement as a neutral starting point for mechanical integrity and well-being.” (Faust, Pedagogical Thesis, (http://www.axissyllabus.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=105&Itemid=2) Faust, in his observation and experience of the body from various lenses of both dance and the sciences, has developed a method for training the body from a sensory, rather than aesthetic, orientation, with his student’s physical safety at the core of his endeavors. Using visual references, technical terms, and physical demonstration, Faust is able to lead his students through series of transition-specific movements, which allow joint-integrity to remain intact and a priority throughout the class. Giving weight to the salience of recognizing and honoring our inherent physical limits, the AS-ump reveals to its patient students a powerful movement logic that transforms preconceived limits into nurtured and choice opportunities, while remaining within physical safe-zone parameters. In this form of training the body each student is given the tools necessary to make movement choices based on knowledge of anatomy, biomechanics, and principles of applied physics – granting them both freedom and responsibility in their own safety and health. I believe this and similar methods of training the body could greatly benefit the contemporary dance world, providing students and teachers with practical solutions in their movement making decisions, as well as setting up clear priorities for each.


Theory in motion – choreographing boundaries

In our choreographic collaboration, my group discussed the various perspectives we each hold on the idea of “integrity” as dancers, and how we feel the dance world either supports or debilitates this quality in our own lives, and in the art form we both observe and interact with. We have discussed how we have been “marked” by different influences in our lives – dance teachers/choreographers; life experiences; friends; colleagues; schooling; belief systems; ancestry; and so on. I believe these markings play a definite role in one’s identity and particular manner of identification. I am curious about how I have been marked and how I, in turn, mark others. Our discussions have lead to a belief that you cannot always know how you are influencing those around you, and where or when other’s marks will show up in your own person. In our choreographic process, we extracted “essences” from the conversations we engaged in as a group, in order to produce movement from the core issues at hand. We chose to represent these markings with colored paint as a process of making visible the unconscious influences from the world around us. Throughout the piece we represent numerous influences/people for one another, and have endeavored to represent certain boundaries and our dance and genetic histories through movement vocabulary and interaction with the paint.

The way I engaged with our dance-concept was by using my writing/research as a springboard for movement exploration in terms of my viewpoint on integrity and the boundaries that I attempt to respect in my dancing. I wanted to show my position on the power relationships set up in dance classes/rehearsals between teacher/choreographer and dancer, and how these power structures’ inherent tendencies promote the abandonment of joint/structural integrity in dancers. The movement material I contributed to the piece was drawn from the defining of my physical body, and applying the paint in a way that illuminated these boundaries. I was also concerned with the boundaries around my body; further clarifying my parameters for self-preservation. My first markings come from two other dancers, and these marks are placed on the sides of my arms. I asked the dancers to mark me on my skin to emphasize the physical boundary of my body. Having others mark me in this way is both a signifier of the action others take in helping to define who I am, and also the ability to manipulate a dancer through projected ideas/ideals/aesthetic agendas. When marking myself with the paint, I place it right on the front of my chest. This action is a symbol of my desire to be upfront and clear with myself, and those I work with, in my communication of my beliefs/boundaries/comfort zones. I also mark the other dancers in this same way; deliberately encouraging a similar approach to communication and a rethinking of priorities. Towards the end of the dance, we all engage in a series of vigorous/sharp/harsh/exhaustive movements, which carry on in a series of permutations and shifting spatial arrangements. One by one, we eventually withdraw from the fervor, leaving one dancer to continue the cycle alone. An outside force is pushing the dancer in this motif – an imaginary choreographer has given her this movement, and she performs with full force and conviction. I imagine the movement itself representing violence towards the dancer from this outside force. Her boundaries are being entreated upon, yet she continues to dance. As the other dancers dissipate, she continues, now internalizing the previously external force of the choreographer’s demands. She pushes herself now, struggling to rise to the expectations of the choreographer. She eventually quits due to utter exhaustion, falling back into line with the remaining dancers. This section represents my past – my old habits of relating to and approaching dance. I was ignorant of my body’s needs, pushing/pulling/thrashing through my limits, wanting, at whatever cost to my well-being and physical structure, to please my teacher/choreographer, and to be rise above than my fellow dancers in terms of skill and desirability.

I believe there is a more conscious and healthy way to achieve aesthetic goals through dance – one that does not stress the importance of suffering or engage in violent communication in order to succeed. Sondra Fraleigh states that, “Human movement is the actualization, the realization, of embodiment. Movement cannot be considered as medium apart from an understanding that movement is body, not just something that the body accomplishes instrumentally as it is moved by some distinct, inner, and separable agency.” (Dance and the Lived Body, p. 13) As the current paradigm of dance continues to objectify the body in this way, progress towards body-conscious development cannot ensue. I hope that by bringing these issues to light it is possible to highlight and instigate the application of alternative ideas for, and methods of, training the body that engage a holistic approach to the body’s functioning and treatment of the individuals involved in the field of dance.


Bibliography
Dance, identity and identification processes in the postcolonial world, p. 190 - 191 … Andre Grau
Identity, the contemporary, and the dancers, p.251 - 252 … Isabelle Ginot
The ballerina’s phallic pointe, p. 6 … Susan Foster
Discipline and Punishment, p. 138 … Michel Foucault
The Pedagogical Thesis of the Axis Syllabus, http://www.axissyllabus.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=105&Itemid=2 … Frey Faust
Dance and the Lived Body, p. 17, p.13 … Sandra Fraleigh