This week’s readings are grouped around a central question in dance criticism (and, in the case of Sontag, aesthetic criticism more generally): the dance critic’s responsibility to describe in depth the movement she sees vs. her impulse to interpret that movement within a larger analytical framework of ideas.
Joan Acocella and Deborah Jowitt, both leading dance critics from New York, are on the side of description, with Acocella stating that the truth of dance is not in an artist’s intent, nor in what the dance might be said to represent (think Langer’s notion of “expressive form”). Instead it’s right there in front of us, in the bones of the dancers’ bodies, and it will seep into our own bones if we let it. Jowitt claims that the dance critic has an inherent duty to describe movement first and foremost because otherwise it disappears (somewhat debatable given how much choreography is revived in repertory); she also says that good descriptive writing contains within it reflective analysis and ideas, and is even informed by those ideas in advance of the writing itself.
Roger Copeland is not against descriptive dance criticism per se; he just doesn’t want dance criticism to “settle there.” Taking direct aim at Jowitt, he states that too much emphasis on description and form risks treating the work as separate from the social context in which it is produced; it also isolates dance aesthetics from a robust engagement with ideas enjoyed in other artistic disciplines.
Copeland usefully contextualizes the emergence of descriptive dance criticism vis-à-vis the influential work of Susan Sontag in the 1960s. Sontag’s position is that interpretation in effect kills the artwork, violating its formal integrity by thwarting our full sensory, embodied engagement with the work (back to Acocella’s bones metaphor). (This is somewhat ironic, coming from Sontag, given that she was one of the leading public intellectuals of her day; really, her anti-interpretive stance is equivalent to Copeland’s anti-poststructuralist theory stance.)
Where do you stand on the description/interpretation issue re dance writing? Is one more important than the other? Or is it merely a question of finding the right balance between the two?
Feel free to frame your response in relation to one or more of the essays we’ll be discussing in class. Feel free, as well, to bring in Sondra Fraleigh on phenomenology as a possible theoretical lens especially well suited to dance criticism—one that’s grounded in the bodies of both performers and spectators and that allows one to contextualize movement description within a larger network of ideas through experiential comparison and analogy (and recall McFee on the importance of “hinting at likeness” in dance).
Finally, while you are by no means obliged to read it, you might like to have a glance at my essay on Crystal Pite and decide on what ratio of description vs. interpretation I provide in my reading of her choreography.
P.
I believe that dance writing benefits from having both precise description and subjective interpretation. Precise description helps to paint a picture of the experience in the mind’s eye of the reader. Description also helps to keep art as art; it prevents people from getting lost in ‘proposed messages and meanings’ and losing sight of the dance itself – a work of art. Acocella points out that dance is not simply a narrative, but a unique patterning of energies which holds meaning. The audience may be able to make associations between habits of normal life with such patterns of energies, but that does not make the habits and the patterns inherently one in the same. Also in support of description for dance criticism, Jowitt notes that dance movements directly speak the truth behind the dance. In other words, it is not necessary to ‘dig deep’ and engage in interpretation to see properly see the piece. Sontag makes a good point about the potential shortcoming of interpretation: forgetting or overlooking the value of the sensory experience of art. Sontag sees the function of criticism as a means to show how art is what it is (not a means to show meaning). These are all valid arguments on the use of description, but what about the power of interpretation in helping the viewer describe his or her experience of the dance?
When we watch a dance performance we engage in an experience that is uniquely our own. Even how we choose to describe a dance (its rhythm, lines, form, technicalities etc.) is influenced by our knowledge and experience. We all have biases, but we also have the ability to acknowledge them and determine whether or not they are relevant to our experience (i.e., do they hinder or enhance it). I agree with Copeland’s stand on dance criticism: a balance of description, interpretation, and value judgement. I see description and generalizations (i.e., interpretations) on a continuum, one in which different styles of dance can stand at different points. Copeland’s stand on ‘dance theory’ offers a simple explanation of how description and interpretation can work together: “‘dance theory’ should examine the ideas that are generated when one reflects systematically upon the sensory experience of dance; it shouldn’t bury dance beneath ready-made notion” (pp.106-107). Fraleigh’s writing on Phenomenology seems to match up quite well with Copeland’s view point on dance criticism. Again, points are brought up in regards to descriptive, interpretive, and evaluative elements which work together to present the truth of personal experience in an attempt to help others find meaning. Biases (from theory and experience) are acknowledged and assessed carefully while the phenomenologist determines the core values of the work of art.
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In critical writing, description is more important than interpretation. It is, of course, essential to have a balance between the two methods of examination; however, less interpretation leaves room for the next audience.
I appreciated Joan Acocella’s argument about abandoning the urge to de-thread each bit of the choreography as if to place a symbol on every arabesque and every pirouette. Some movements may be incredibly symbolic, “but there are hundreds of other things in here that have no clear relation to life” (Acocella 12). I believe she is suggesting that these microscopic interpretations of movement symbolism are almost irrelevant, because even if we knew the truth, that is not the task of the dance critic. She also notes that dance choreographers are sometimes aware that certain patterns of execution in movement, lighting, timing, sound, and other effects can determine an audience reaction (be it surprised, jubilant, or horrified) . In film, for an example, screen writing students are taught to structure their scripts into three acts, with a story arch, specific characters, a climax, and a resolution, in order to satisfy their audience’s needs. I am not suggesting that all choreographers structure their pieces to affect an audience, but that Acocella is telling us that a dramatic formation change in choreography may just be an attempt to “reflect[s] all experience that our brains know and love” (13). This essay relates to a quote Robert Copeland used in his article by John Ruskin, which summarizes that simplicity is the most important thing (Copeland 98).
Copeland really pursued the value of balance in his essay. I also appreciated this argument. It made me think about how this concept related to relationships and in turn, how it related to dance. In a relationship (romantic or not), there are many ways one could interpret a gesture, such as blowing a kiss to someone; is it merely a fun and friendly gesture, or is it an innuendo? Unless clarification is made, it is pointless to put stress and complication on a gesture. It is okay to consider these symbols, as one may consider what that arabesque or pirouette may mean, but the most important element in examination is description, i.e..: the gesture in itself. Copeland summarizes, “the ideal dance writer regards description as necessary, but not sufficient, component of the critical task” (Copeland 106).
My understanding of existential phenomenology is the approach of defining and describing a phenomenon with virgin eyes in order to remove bias and the essence of experience. In addition to this summary, Sondra Fraleigh mentions that consciousness is the necessary condition for experience. I believe she is saying that although one may have studied ballet pedagogy for decades, they must enter the theatre as if this is the first time they’ve seen the light of day. I think, hypothetically, this would be the ideal condition in which to examine a performance; however, it is impossible to drop these precursors in the theatre lobby. The final element I detected in existential phenomenology, is how this theory is a way of describing dance from the perspectives of the dancer and the audience. I’m not sure how this can be done. Maybe we can discuss it in class, Peter?
A
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I believe when writing about a dance piece, it should be a balance of description and interpretation. In general, description assists in highlighting a key point in the piece and interpretation helps in understanding and appreciating the piece better. Description helps the reader pay attention to the imagery of a choreographer or dancer’s unique dance style. Interpretation, on the other hand, gives perspective on what the dance meant to the critic and can aid the reader to make connections of his/her own.
Relying too much on interpretation gives us the tendency to manipulate an artist’s piece into something that is only specifically understood by ourselves. The artist’s intention of a piece (whether it is existent or non-existent) is directed to a narrow path that is made up of the critic’s own experiences. This process stumps the readers when reading a critique of a dance because they do not have the same experience as the critic.
As for precise description, it is difficult to make a complete description of every single movement of a dancer as it becomes, according to Jowitt, “unentrancing” to the reader. As Copeland suggests, too much focus on these descriptions make it impossible to really see and appreciate the artist’s work for what it is by itself. We lose the artist’s work in its own context. At the same time, it is almost impossible to describe a piece without adding one’s own interpretation. How can a critic say that the dancer’s coupé jeté was light and graceful when the person sitting in the front row would describe the jump as sharp and heavy? To the critic’s perspective, the highlight of the choreography might be completely different to the reader or anyone who has watched it. But having a description gives the reader a number of points to look out for in the dance, not completely influencing the reader against their own analysis of the piece.
The key is to find the right balance between description and interpretation. Both in-depth description and interpretation should assist the reader. This way, the reader gets to experience the dance on his/her own, meanwhile, have a reference to look back on if needed.
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I believe that in the question of interpretation vs description, (in a perfect world at least) both are equally as valid and both can be equally as enhancing of specific works if chosen properly.
The issue proposed leads me to imagine – if a choreographer and dance /writer critic developed a relationship in which they could work symbiotically on a certain level, the dance writing could be a very powerful tool in enhancing the entirety of the work, becoming an equal partner to the dancers or the music etc.; almost a prologue.
A description of the work has the ability to bring an element of immortal to this so-called ephemeral art. If the vision of the choreographer lends itself to that concrete effect, a descriptive writing of the work becomes a whole other element when we look at the piece.
On the other hand, if the intention of a choreographer is to stir up questions and provoke its audience in their natural human desire to find meaning in the art, a subjective writing continues to provoke the audience long after the curtain has dropped, in that any subjective statement comes hand in hand with people who will agree with is or argue with it.
In short, my opinion on the issue between the two approaches is that I’m not in the least concerned with the validity/hierarchy of the two, but very interesting in how either can be used to the enhancement of the core intent of the dance.
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