In what context is judgment of beauty deemed 'acceptable'?

From Katastrophe, whose posting has been troubled:

In our culture, we are bombarded with aesthetic criticisms from a wide variety of sources. Search any website that defines itself as even remotely feminist and you will find article upon article bashing pop culture outlets such as the Photoshop-happy magazine Cosmopolitan or commercials for intimates brandVictoria's Secret, etc., for furthering an idealistic and unattainable concept of physical beauty. These kind of judgments are, rightfully so, condemned by a large portion of the general public.

On the other hand, log onto any major news source like the NY Times or The Inquirer and you'll find dozens of dance reviews under their Culture/Arts sections. While there are undoubtedly a number of talented and informed dance critics who are writing for these and other publications, unfortunately there are still more who write uneducated or, almost worse, barren descriptions of dance. Though they might face backlash from the dance community (see Alastair Macaulay's attack on the oeuvre of Trisha Brown; though not uneducated or barren, the general agreement is that it was uncalled for), the general public still venerates them as a higher opinion on the topic.

Why do we denounce one judgment of beauty and revere another? What exactly is the difference between judging a person's looks based off of an ideal and judging a person's movement based off of an opinion, comparison, or just plain ignorance?

A possible explanation could be that, while one has no control over what one looks like (to an extent, but that's a different debate), one has complete control over their movement. Although it was not my choice to be born a brunette, for example, it is theoretically my choice to choreograph a ballet piece to a song by Prince. Because I consciously decided to do so, I open myself up to other people's opinions and, indeed, judgments.

I am by no means intending to defend our public media's attempt to make people feel bad for not looking a certain way, or to belittle the purpose of the critic. I merely find it interesting that different kinds of judgment, in different contexts, can hold such different weight and meaning to us as people and as creators.

When in doubt, Question!

Situations that require verbal or written communication of reaponses to visual art are sensitive because they make the viewer vulnerable to scrutiny for offering an uninformed response, just as much as they put the artist at risk of being offended or responding negatively to an intentionally constructive criticism. Through training to be an informed visual art viewer and an every day communicator, I have observed that offering a question, rather than stating a judgment or opinion, often minimizes negative outcomes to these sensitive situations. Offering a question may rescue you from offending an artist, or it may allow you to offer an informed response even without necessary research or understanding of an artist’s work. This idea of offering questions is especially pertinent in the realm of responding to dance works directly to the creator of those works.

By offering a question to a creator of a dance work, the creator maintains a choice of how to answer or not answer the question. The creator also maintains their role as owner of their creation. You cannot go wrong when phrasing questions with “was it your intention to…because I noticed…” or “Why did you choose….for that moment in the work” These questions may spark a conversation with great depth and insight into the true intentions or lack of intentions for works of visual art, without risk of a viewer holding back information for fear of offending the artist or an artist being frustrated at a lack of viewers’ understanding of the work.

A Criticism of Criticism

I remember some years ago, my high school funded a trip for a small number of students to go see a ballet production downtown.  Many of my fellow classmates decided to, as churlish high school students are wont to do, repeatedly claim that they had no grasp on whatever artistic or profound meaning of the piece that surely must have been behind it.  As the only member of the trip with any background in dance, I was quickly established as the sole authority on the subject.  I gave a rather vague assessment that was mostly based on the program notes, and yet my friends were convinced that my years of experience validated my half-hearted opinion.  I quickly took advantage of my newfound power and began making completely outlandish claims, and, to my happy surprise, instead of questioning me, the others tried to make sense of my nonsense.  They disregarded whatever opinions they might have previously formed and were extremely hesitant to share any of their own experience after that.

Although this whole situation was funny to me back then, I now see it as an actual life experience that raises one of the aspects of dance criticism that I find the most troubling.  On the one hand, I agree that a background in dance can be hugely beneficial when seeing a performance.  Studying such material in classes like our own enables us to perhaps approach a piece from different perspectives.  Yet, my experience above showed me a sort of reckless power and authority derived from such knowledge, which ultimately stifled some other potentially valid interpretations.  I find it difficult to balance all of this; someone with absolutely no background in dance may have something remarkable to say about a performance, but I fear that my natural inclination is to listen more to the experienced critic, whether or not my initial reaction matched his or hers.  My own personal bias compels me to legitimize some, while dismissing others, and I wonder how prevalent this is in the dance world in general.

This is a post from Katastrophe, who is having trouble accessing the "New Post" link, so DanceProf is putting it on the site for her:

No one can deny that movement is a language of its own sort, used to express a myriad of emotions, events, and concepts. It is no surprise then that movement, like so many other forms of communication, was originally a method of narration. Storytelling has remained an integral core of dance-making throughout history. In the ballet world, for example, narrative ballets such as “Le Sylphide” and “Sleeping Beauty” are akin to childhood stories in our culture like “Hansel and Gretel” or “Goldilocks and the Three Bears”: classic, familiar, and fantastical. However, as the art form of dance has evolved beyond the “necessary” tethers of a plot, I cannot help but wonder if there is any place in our society for such dances other than pure nostalgia. I will not deny that story dances are still accepted and enjoyed in our culture today; not only are major companies such as the New York City Ballet still performing the classical narrative ballets, but popular television shows such as So You Think You Can Dance offer pieces in various styles that, more often than not, display some sort of narrative. It seems to me that such dances are rather easy to comprehend, and thus appeal to the mass public, but hold no substantial value beyond evoking pleasing and wistful responses. Movement as an art should no longer require a story in order to be appealing: as Doris Humphrey states in her article “New Dance”, “They [her works] are a cohesive form in the way that symphony is and need neither music nor story as crutches to support them.” In order for dance to continue progressing, do we need to shed our narrative roots in favor of the more deep, complex, and rich?

And, incidentally, Lila just posted a link to this article on her Facebook, which seems relevant! (And, even if it's not, it's still a really interesting read!)

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/08/07/arts/dance/so-you-think-you-can-judge-dance-shows.html?pagewanted=all&_r=2&

You have got to see this!
http://www.dancersamongus.com/

Or just go here:
http://www.dancersamongus.com/photos

Ahhhhh!!!!

Complaint of Isadora Duncan's Scarf

  by Charles Jensen

My only glory was in beauty,
how I reached from her slender neck
toward the sky, ravaged by wind

the way a rough lover handles
you: dizzying, powerful,
unpredictable, but with joy,

joy in touching you,
joy in seeing you disheveled. The cool
night air ran its lips on my silk skin

to make me dance. I danced,
long and lean, with perfect
extension and seamless flow.

I had no bones. Not one bit of me
was firm or harsh. I was air
itself. I was becoming

pure performance. I could
see the tire's eye watching me.
The car at the sidewalk with its

inflexible frame—it hated
my freedom, my lift, my flight.
The car, gravity's great love,

envied me. The wind, for a moment,
set me down with ballet grace.
I lit upon the cold steel spokes

striking out from the wheel
like the arms of great Kali. She
tangled me, and when the car

drove off the wheel pulled me
tighter. I wound around its neck
the only way a scarf knows how,

pulling my whole silk body
and everything that anchored me
into the mouth of never.

Thanks to Kat for sharing this with me in October of 2012

Dance description sets the scene

This week we discussed pieces of literature that utilize dance as a tool for expression of the social setting, emotional relationship between characters, and turning point of conflict, among others. I found it most interesting to realize how crucial the presentation and description of the dances are to communicating the author’s intended interpretation of the dance's purpose in the writing. Gustave Flaubert provides an intense description of a dance between a married Madame Bovary and her dance partner in Madame Bovary. This moment in the literature draws the reader in, offering the reader a clear understanding that the dance is not friendly movement between two people, but a metaphoric breaking of a social barrier, leading to adultery and destruction. I am curious to explore how different presentation and description of identical dances communicated via literature may change a reader's interpretation of the dance.

Can We Escape History?

In class on Tuesday, we discussed the resurgence of classical and courtly themes among the various philosophies of dancing masters, which I found particularly fascinating.  Each choreographer had to contend with these and many other pre-established "rules" of dance when forming their own conceptions.  Accepting, rejecting, or modifying these bits of history seemed, to me, to be based upon individual preference, which lead me to wonder if we truly ever see purely "new" forms of dance.  Even though Isadora Duncan rejected the accepted styles of her time, she still drew inspiration from classical Greek art.  The philosophies we read were almost like patchwork, and though the combinations were unique, the sources had been present for much longer.  I think it is interesting to consider whether we experience wholly new interpretations of dance, or if it is more accurate to say that the perceptions are different, but the foundations are perhaps not entirely unfamiliar.

Welcome to WRITING DANCE 2013!

It is my pleasure to welcome the Writing Dance class of Fall 2013 to our Class Blog.
Chat away, post your
thoughts, observations, links, images, dreams, and concerns (as you wish to make them public) about DANCE here!