PHILOSOPHICAL PROBLEMS OF DANCE CRITICISM

CHAPTER III

THE MULTIPLE MEDIA OF DANCE

by Julie Charlotte Van Camp

Copyright Julie Charlotte Van Camp 1981

All Rights Reserved

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As several media are involved in dance, analysis of only one of those media does not completely explain dance, nor do analyses of single-medium or pure artforms necessarily explain the mixed or impure artform of dance without distortion of either the theory or the artform. In this chapter, it is argued that the medium of dance is neither purely physical movement nor purely mental, but that neither is the medium of dance a "fusion," "assimilation," or "amalgamation" of physical movement, auditory images, and visual designs. Dance is more adequately explained as consisting of primary media of movement and music (or, more generally, auditory images), including rhythm), and secondary media of costumes, scenery, and lighting. Even so, dance is a distinct artform, not merely a collaboration of several pure artforms.

Problems will then be considered which arise for the critic and the philosopher of criticism from this multi-media character of dance. Evaluation of the individual media in a given performance need not necessarily be the same as if each medium were evaluated separately in the context of the artform using only that medium. Evaluation of the music at a ballet performance could be quite different,

both in reasons and final appraisal, from an evaluation of precisely the same sounds in a concert hall. The standards of "appropriateness" between the various media plays a special role in evaluation of dance, for example, and the meaning of such standards as "appropriateness" cannot be properly understood without clarification of the media of dance.

A. The Media of Dance

The goal here is to specify the nature of the existence of dance - what it consists of. This is an important matter. We must know what dance is in order to be able to explain how we related to it, how we can know anything about it, talk about it, refer to it, or evaluate it. To take an extreme example, if dance is only a mental thing, existing in the minds of interested observers, then it is difficult to explain how a group of persons could perceive it, discuss it, and agree or disagree on its value. If dance is held to consist only of, say, physical movement, but not the auditory phenomenon of music, then it is difficult to explain why and how we frequently discuss and evaluate the musical dimension of a dance performance.

Specifying the media of dance is easily confused with defining dance. Defining dance is an exercise that not only examines the medium of the phenomenon but other criteria by which dance can be distinguished from similar phenomenon. Perhaps one problem with some of the definitions examined in the previous chapter is a preoccupation with specifying the medium. As shown, other artforms may share the medium of

dance; mime, for example, seems to share the medium of human movement with dances-in-silence. Similarly, dance may share the media of the non-art event of walking across the room with a radio playing, yet dance can be distinguished through a definition that involves the context of appreciation and evaluation for the observers. Thus, it is possible for two distinct artforms to share the same medium, and for an artform and some other non-art phenomenon to share the same medium, but to be distinguished through definition by additional considerations.

Determining the media of dance is also different from specifying the aesthetic object, or proper object of criticism, because of the difference in the purpose of the question being asked. What is relevant for evaluation is a narrower issue than what is the existence of something we describe, interpret, perceive, relate to, and have other sorts of knowledge about. Ontological status is relevant to evaluation as well as a variety of other things.

Determining ontological status is also different from establishing identity. Identity involves ways of individuating individual works and performances and determining sameness of two performances as the same work. Ontological status is relevant to identity. If some proposed medium is not part of the existence of the thing, then it is difficult to see how that medium could be relevant to establishing identity and vice versa. But it is obviously possible to determine that two phenomena share the same media without

their being the same work.

The primary test for the adequacy of an ontological theory is, as with definition, whether a proposal reflects the way we actually talk about the existence of dance in the real world (as opposed to a misleading sense of existence merely in the fact that we can talk about it).

Thomas Munro, in his 1949 study, The Arts and Their Interrelations, (1) discusses various ways in which the media of different artforms have been classified. If medium is considered ". . . in a strictly physical sense, as the kind of matter out of which a work is made" (2) different artworks can be categorized by their use of oil, clay, and so forth. The arts can also be characterized in terms of the "raw materials" used, that is, the ". . . materials in a comparatively crude, unprocessed state, before the artist has organized them." (3) Munro recognizes that "the idea of 'rawness' is always somewhat relative, expressing a contrast between the material as a particular artist begins to use it, and as he finished it." (4) Munro also recognizes that this way of categorizing is overly elaborate and not very informative.

In another approach, he notes, ". . . the concept of physical medium is often made to include instruments and tools," (5) such as the sculptor's chisel, or the musician's piano. This approach, applied to dance, might mean that the medium of dance includes everything from toe shoes and resin to stage and classroom barre. Munro does not discuss this,

but it seems a needlessly confusing and uninformative approach. The tools used by artists are a very diverse group of things, which vary considerably from person to person, and do not tell us much that is useful about the end result of the creative process. Further, it would be misleading to place so much weight on the method of creation.

For dance, Munro says, the principal physical medium is the human body, including "the appearance, manner, voice and personality of the performer" which ". . . are vital parts of the medium on which the . . . choreographer has to depend." (6) By including what he calls "psychological state" along with physical ones, Munro unnecessarily introduces cumbersome complications. A dancer need not actually be sad to convey sadness, and being sad does not guarantee that sadness will be effectively conveyed to an audience. Rather, the dancer must be able to use his body in complex ways which will convey sadness, regardless of his psychological states at the time of performance. Again, it will be more fruitful in understanding how we relate to dance to be precise about the significant medium.

Munro is not preoccupied with isolating a single medium for each artform. Although he believes each artform has a "principal" medium, he also acknowledges that "Every art uses more than one physical material, even when it emphasizes one in particular and is named after it." (7) For Munro, "the primary physical medium" of dance ". . . is the living body with its power of movement," but he also includes as

media "costume and other accessories" which ". . . contribute greatly to the total effect," along with ". . . the rhythmic and usually musical sound accompaniment" and "lighting." (8) Unfortunately, Munro does not explore or discuss the implications of his sweeping, inclusive approach to identifying the medium of dance. His all-inclusiveness seems based, not on an analysis of the purpose of identifying a medium, but simply on his tendency to the most far-reaching inclusiveness, as seen earlier in his approach to definition. One purpose of this chapter is to try to show that this inclusiveness is indeed justifiable as the best way to understand dance. As noted, the medium of any artform is relevant to understanding how we relate to it and evaluate it. Applications of the multiple media developed here are thus discussed in some detail with regard to evaluation of dance.

Dance is often identified for convenience as the artform of human movement, and no one would disagree that movement plays some important role in the artform. However, the interest in distinguishing dance from other artforms seems to have led some to wrongly characterize dance as an artform consisting solely of human movement, or at least to ignore everything but human movement. Haig Khatchadourian, for example, has argued that dance wholly consists of or includes physical movements, although not bodies in motion. (9) "Physical (bodily) movements" are ". . . the physical medium of a dance, . . ." while ". . . bodies, which are physical

though living entities, are not part of a dance." (10) I have no quarrel with his insistence on some physical medium of dance, although his rejection of physical bodies (in motion) as part or all of that medium rests on a questionable analysis of the actual usage of words like "dance." Words like "painting," "sculpture," and "work of architecture," he says, have two distinct descriptive senses, as "(1) some physical object or set of objects, a physical activity or set of activities, a sequence of sounds, and so on," and "(2) 'images' or perceptual (visual or auditory) forms or patterns created by physical materials: pigments on canvas, metal on wood, clay and so on." (11) In contrast, he claims, words like "dance," "ballet," "play," "pantomime," "music," and "poem" have only the second descriptive sense. However, these supposedly single sense terms can be and are used to refer to strictly physical objects and activities, just as "painting" can be used to refer to a physical object: "Tell the moving man to put that painting in Room Two;" "Tell the stage manager that tonight's ballet needs a stage of 40' x 60';" "Last night's ballet weakened the stage here in the corner;" "The ballet ran two full hours;" "Cunningham's new dance cost $50,000;" "Where ;did the cleaning man put my music after last night's performance?" More importantly, it is not clear that the single or dual nature of such terms proves anything about the medium of the artform. If the analysis of actual usage did prove that the physical medium of dance cannot be physical bodies because "dance" is never

used to refer to physical objects or activities, it is not clear why it would not follow that the medium of dance cannot be physical movements either, but only some mental or virtual entity.

An even more basic flaw in Khatchadourian's insistence on physical movement as the sole medium of dance is that it ignores other important aspects of a performance, at considerable loss of explanatory power. He neglects non-movement, for example; although not a fatal omission, it is an error which can and should be corrected. Dancers often assume perfectly motionless poses, not just when they stand at the side while other dancers perform, but actually during a dance sequence or variation. (12) A female ballet dancer often strikes a pose, such as an arabesque, and holds the pose absolutely motionless for seconds, if unsupported, or much longer, if supported by her partner. It is not clear how such a pose is characterized as part of the dance if the physical medium of dance is strictly physical movement. It makes sense to talk about a non-moving body, but not about non-moving movement. A precise description of a particular dance, using Khatchadourian's concept of dance as wholly physical movement, would describe only the physical movements, but not the stillness. If dance consists wholly of the physical movement, then the absence of movement is the absence of dance.

He says, "There can be no dances without physical movement; consequently a completely motionless figure in some

particular posture or pose on a stage cannot constitute the performance of a dance." (13) (Choreographer and dancer Paul Taylor did, in fact, once present just such an event. (14)) Although physical movement is at least a major part of the phenomenon of dance, it is less clear that dance is wholly physical movement or that a particular dance must include any movement. If the motionless dancer made a fist during his time on stage, does the fist-making constitute movement and thus a dance? Using Khatchadourian's approach, the fist-making and only the fist-making is the dance, but the audience might in fact see the fist-making and the time of motionlessness as a performance making an unusual statement about the importance in dance of movement or the frustration for a dancer of remaining motionless, or it might be seen as a virtuoso exhibition of the muscle control necessary to maintain perfect motionlessness for a length of time. Such demonstrations could also be effected without even the fist-making, casting a shadow of doubt on any claim that every single performance of a dance must include some movement.

Non-movement can result from the absence of a body capable of movement (the stage is empty), the presence of a body which is simply not moving (the dancer is not raking leaves), negative doing (the dancer is thinking, but not moving), or an intentional refraining from doing (the dancer is maintaining a still pose). The latter, intentional motionlessness, is an important part of the movement design

and can be called "stasis" to distinguish it from other types of non-movement. This intentional motionlessness describes Taylor's phenomenon, and, arguably, might be dance. At the very least, Taylor's work is different, in some important ways, from an empty stage.

To account for stillness and the experiments of people like Taylor with non-moving dances, I would suggest that the medium of dance be understood, in part, as patterns of physical movement and stasis by a human body capable of such movement. (The pattern in Taylor's work would include the location of the dancer on stage, the time of stasis, and the particular posture assumed.)

Music is another important dimension of dance performances that is obscured in Khatchadourian's analysis, in which he acknowledges only that rhythm must be present "in some degree" in dance. (15) A few rhythmical dances without music do exist, but this is extraordinarily rare, a fact not without significance. Especially in the masterful collaborations of Balanchine and Stravinsky, the music is as much a part of the performance of "the dance" as the movement. If the choreography for Balanchine's Concerto Barocco were performed to a Sousa march instead of Bach's Double Violin Concerto, it simply would not be a performance of Concerto Barocco, although a performance using a piano transcription of the Bach would probably still be considered Concerto Barocco. (16) Although "rhythmical" qualifies and characterizes movement, "music" does not. It does not make sense to

describe movement performed in silence as "musical," although it does to describe it as "rhythmical." A characterization of movement as "musical" is, instead, used to characterize the relationship between the media of movement and of music.

There is disagreement about how important music is to dance, (17) or what things about music are most important ("mood," rhythm, etc.), but music clearly plays a major role in dance performances, second only to the movement itself. The few examples of dances without music are, I would contend, highly rhythmical works, (18) parasitic on music and the audience's familiarity with the use of music in dance. They are often experiments designed precisely to show the possibility of dance without music, (19) much as Taylor's experiment attempted to show the possibility of dance without human movement. But despite the long history of dances-without-music, they remain isolated and rare examples. One need only look at the short history of the artform of dance to confirm this. To explain dance, philosophy must look to dance as it is actually performed and appreciated.

The view that the medium of dance is solely human movement (or bodies) relegates music to the status of a mere dispensable accompaniment, excluded from any proper or important role in the evaluation or identity of dance performances, like the pedestal for a sculpture or the frame and wall hooks for a painting. This is the unacceptable consequence of Khatchadourian's analysis, and also of Virgil

Aldrich's view ". . . that the material of the art of dancing is the body-in-action of the dancer." (20) Although Aldrich says this medium will be "elaborated" by the "involvement" of "temporal and rhythmic elements," (21) he does not consider these elements to be the material (or one of the materials) of dance, nor does he so consider music. ("Dancing is usually done to music, and is then an impure art, a mixture of two arts." (22))

George Beiswanger suggests a more integral role for music when he says that

musical accompaniment builds into the dance's designs, providing in some cases the dance's initial inspiration and basic framework, adding to others a supplementary contrapuntal pattern, and affording still others a tonal floor upon which the design's dynamics can securely play. (23)

Movement designs are intentional patterns, structures, and formalities, both in the sense of visual designs perceived at one moment in time (relationship of limb to torso; relationship of dancer to dancer) and designs which can be perceived only through a period of time (relationship of one body position to subsequent body position and relationship of dancer to dancer in location in space at succeeding moments in time). Thus, it is clear, building on Beiswanger's observation, why music and rhythms are so integral in dance, as they provide, reinforce, highlight, and focus through aural patterns the relationships of the visual patterns.

Although it is far beyond the scope of this dissertation to attempt an analysis of Joseph Margolis' major

theories of artworks as cultural entities in Art and Philosophy, (24) it is worth noting that he discusses the medium of dance in terms only of movement, omitting any mention of other media in dance performances. He says, for example, that ". . . a dance is embodied in physical movements, but it is itself a system of articulated dance steps." (25) He makes no claim that he is comprehensively analyzing the medium of dance but this brief remark illustrates a common tendency to ignore other characteristics of dance.

Similarly, in what he describes as "tentative and exploratory reflections," (26) Monroe Beardsley has analyzed dance movement in terms of philosophical action theory, but the next step needed would be application of the approach to the other media of the artform. He says that "mathematically ordered motion (i.e., pulse and rhythm which together form meter)" "may be a very useful criterion of dancehood," but "cannot" be taken "as a necessary or sufficient condition." (27) His reason, however, seems to be that this would be too narrow as a way of distinguishing mere motion from the moving of dance. But he does not seem to be claiming that a specific sort of movement is necessarily the only medium of the artform of dance, but rather that the pulse and rhythm do not adequately distinguish dance movement from non-dance movement.

The music could, for example, be analyzed analogously to the movement in Beardsley's analysis. It is claimed here that the music should not merely be considered as noises or

sounds heard at the same time as a dance performance. Certain noises also constitute a musical work, say Swan Lake, and also constitute one of the media of a performance of a ballet called Swan Lake. Blowing on a flute causes a sound, that is, generates a sound. "Sortal generation" also seems applicable in explaining music, that is, "act-generation that occurs when an action of one sort becomes also . . . an action of another sort - without . . . ceasing to be an action of the first sort as well." (28) Applying this to music, making a certain sound on a flute is also playing a part of Swan Lake, but can also in appropriate circumstances have the character of a ballet performance. Not every sound, not every playing of Swan Lake has the character of a ballet performance. When sound is expressive, following Beardsley's analysis, it is music. When the perceptual phenomena of movement and sound are expressive, it is dance.

Before looking further at candidates for the physical medium of dance, an entirely different approach should be disposed o f, that of Susanne Langer that dance is not physical at all, but a virtual image. Although physical materials (bodies, costumes, light, music tone, etc.) are used to create dance, she says, dance is none of those things, nor any physical thing, but an "appearance" or "apparition of active powers, a dynamic image." (29) Khatchadourian sums up widespread rejection of this view: "I do not see how such 'virtual entities' can exist independently of a perceiver." (30)

At the other extreme is the view that dance consists of more than one physical medium, physical movement (or bodies-in-motion), as well as music, costumes, scenery, and lighting. But I would not go so far as to say that the physical medium of dance is a fusion or assimilation of these media.

In a brief note, some time ago, Beardsley hinted at such a possibility: ". . . it would seem that in the dance a fusion of music and the movement of human bodies can occur." (31) He did not elaborate on this idea, but there is a certain attractiveness to considering the medium of dance to be one thing, a fusion of movement-and-music (and perhaps other things). This approach fully acknowledges the diverse elements of dance in a way that the Khatchadourian-Aldrich approach does not, and recognizes that dance is more than merely the sum of those diverse elements. Yet the idea if troublesome, because fusion (defined in the Oxford English Dictionary) as "The union or blending together of different things [whether material or immaterial] as if by melting, so as to form one whole; the result or state of being so blended" (32)) suggests too much, even assuming it is used metaphorically. Two movement vocabularies can be fused (say, the classical styles of Petipa and Fokine); the music of two composers can be fused into the score for one ballet; the sound of the human voice can be fused to the sound of instrumental music. But when physical movement and auditory images are "fused," the whole produced is not really fused, but mixed, with the separate elements still clearly present.

No new element is created, although a new mixture certainly is. In watching a dance performance, it is impossible to forget - nor should it be forgotten - that it consists of movement and music and various other things. Substituting amalgamation ("The action of combining distinct elements, races, associations, into one uniform whole; . . . a homogeneous union of what were previously distinct elements, societies, etc." (33)) for fusion results in the same inaccuracy.

The notion of "assimilation," introduced by Langer for purposes other than characterizing the medium of dance, is equally unsatisfactory. As examples of a "principle of assimilation," she says,

<,BLOCKQUOTE> Music ordinarily swallows words and actions creating opera, oratorio or song; dance commonly assimilates music . . . sometimes a poem may swallow music, or even dance . . . . I have never known music to incorporate dancing, but it might. (34)

Langer was not here addressing the medium of dance, but these tantalizing comments are worth exploring from that perspective. While fusion is the blending of several things into a new whole, assimilation ("the action of making or becoming like; similarity, resemblance, likeness" (35)) involves changes in one or more things to become like something else, which itself remains unchanged. It is not clear how music could change to be like dance, since music already has rhythm, mood, tempo, etc. independently. If the assimilation of music by dance just means that dance dominates the music in being more important in the interest and attention of

perceivers, "assimilation" would overstate the relationship.

The problem underlying the approaches just surveyed is the apparent assumption that a particular artform must have only one medium. Langer, for example, says quite explicitly: "Every work has its being in only one order of art; compositions of different orders are not simply conjoined, but all except one will cease to appear as what they are." (36) Aldrich, like many others, talks as if the complexity or "impurity" of dance is a flaw to be overcome. It is not clear why there must be a single medium for each artform, except for the usual preference for simplicity, all else being equal, and the greater familiarity with major arts which are, of course, pure.

Thomas Munro, writing some thirty years ago, seemed to glorify the presence of so many different media within ballet, specifically in the work The Afternoon of a Faun. He describes the work as

. . . a product of several constituent works of art in different media - a poem, a musical composition, a dance, drawings, paintings, costumes, stage settings, and all the other elements which contribute to a theatrical spectacle. (37)

He also refers to the work as "a single compound work of art, a ballet . . . an excellent example of cooperation and synthesis among different arts," (38) ". . . a complex work of art. . . ," (39) and ". . . a compound form. . . ." (40) Faun is not a typical example of a work of dance, however, as Munro discusses, as there is a long history of the separate treatment of the theme by artists in different artforms working

quite independently. Only some time later were various contributions "merged" by Diaghileff into one work. (41) In many other dances, the theme and music may pre-exist the creation of the ballet, but there are rarely separately existing works in all the media.

Munro addresses the issue of whether complex artforms such as ballet ". . . are the better for being thus complex and many-sided." (42) He identifies several factors which account for the apparent preference for simpler, purer, single-media artforms, including greater ease in following the work, being able to "perceive all the stimuli in one way, with less distraction," (43) and the ability to appreciate the work ". . . without accompanying words or music, which . . . only confuse and distract without enhancing the value of the whole." (44) These factors, with which Munro does not necessarily agree, sound like a simple matter of greater ease, but could also be understood as a disagreement over the value of simplicity as opposed to complexity. More precisely, this seems to be a disagreement over preferable varieties of complexity - complexity from elements within a particular media or complexity resulting from the presence of different media. This sort of disagreement suggests why it is important to properly identify and analyze the media of the artform. As long as dance is treated as a single-medium form of human movement the remaining media cannot be accommodated except in negative ways, as clutter, distractions, or impurities.

I thus propose, quite simply, that dance be considered a multi-media artform with media of unequal importance. A primary medium of dance is physical movement and non-movement in the sense of statis, by a human body capable of such movement. This is the most obvious characteristic of dance, and the characteristic that distinguishes it most sharply from other artforms. Paintings may represent the human body but it is not physically present in a painting. Theater, mime, and opera also use live human bodies capable of movement, but in all cases the movement is presented along with other media that distinguish them from dance. Even a Taylor non-moving dance counts as a dance here, as it uses human bodies capable of movement in a pattern of stasis requiring muscular effort by the persons to hold the position.

The other primary medium of dance is music (or, more generally, auditory images), which play a major role, but a less important one than the movement. Every dance either includes music, or auditory images (percussion or other rhythmic noises), or uses clearly developed rhythms in the movement, exploiting the audience's familiarity with music in other works. The vast majority of dances centrally use music, and the handful of experimental works which do not themselves audibly use music can be included as examples of dance because of this parasitic or dependent role. Works which have no such relationship to music (its presence or its rhythm) do not count as dance. The important role of music distinguishes dance from theater and mime, which also

use movements of the human body but without any such integral role for music. Opera is distinguished by its use of music produced by the human voice. It should also be noted that primary need not mean "sole;" there are three primary colors, for example.

Secondary media include remaining objects of visual perception (all except the movement design itself), such as costumes, scenery, lighting, and such experimental innovations as videotape. Very simple costumes, such as plain leotards, play a minimal role in importance both in perception and evaluation, but others, such as the lavishly decorated costumes for The Firebird, are (speaking colloquially) works of art in themselves and constitute a visual dimension quite distinct from the perception of the human movement. Some scenery, especially by such artists as Picasso and Chagall, (45) constitutes a separate artistic medium presented on the same stage and as part of the same performance with the movement and music. These are characterized as secondary media, because an instance of dance could exist without them (assuming nudity in fact or in appearance through the use of flesh-colored leotards, and an unembellished performing space and lighting), because these media are shared with several other artforms and do not particularly characterize dance, and because they are of secondary importance in understanding and evaluating dance. For example, it is commonplace for critics to complain of Balanchine's shoddy or garish costumes, for this is noted as an annoyance, not

as a decisive factor against the value of the work overall.

This proposal rejects attempts to identify one and only one medium of the artform of dance. But I also want to insist that dance is more than just a collaboration of other artforms, temporarily uprooted and assembled in an uneasy, impure partnership. Beiswanger suggests that; ". . . a well-designed dance is not to be resolved into its fragmented parts." (46) It is not the case that the contributions of individual media should "stand on their own" as separate works of art. It is also not the case, however, that the components must constitute an absolute fusion of those parts, for they can be and are separately identified, analyzed, and compared.

The multiplicity of media makes dance more difficult to understand, but there is nothing inferior about complexity, other things being unequal. My proposal, although not as neat and simple as competitors, seems more suited to understanding dance as it is actually created and performed, the ultimate test of the adequacy of any theory.

B. Evaluation of the Mixed Media of Dance

Overall assessments of dance performances are justified, in part, by analyzing and evaluating the individual media of a performance. Evaluations of individual components in a dance performance need not necessarily and sometimes should not be the same as if each were being evaluated within the context of the pure artform using only that medium. A particular perceptual phenomenon in dance (such as the music)

might be judged good, while precisely the same phenomenon in the context of a different artform (say, a musical concert) might be much less or much more good.

One long-standing debate is whether the music in a dance performance should be evaluated as if it were being performed in a concert hall. The view that it should be may have been reinforced by the practical reality that many American publications have used music critics to review dance, as until recently the full-time services of dance critics were not needed. Several dance critics have held that the evaluation of music in a dance performance demands special principles appropriate to the complex nature of dance, (47) as does evaluation of the dramatic elements of a dance performance. (48) Special standards for the evaluation of the various components of a complex artform are defensible. At the least, the burden of proof rests with showing that the principles for evaluation of X should be identical to those for evaluation of X-as-a-component-of-Y. Even in the pure forms of music performed in a concert hall, precisely the same critical considerations would not be used in evaluating a solo performer and a member of a symphony orchestra.

Some have suggested that the standards for the individual media in dance performances are actually inferior to those of pure artforms. Critic George Borodin, for example, claims that

. . . if it were possible to obtain music

with the genius of a Beethoven in it, and decors designed by an artist of the stature of a Rembrandt, and if one fitted them to the dance, the net results would almost certainly be very bad ballet - though those who want merely to listen to the orchestra or to gaze at the settings as one looks at a picture would, no doubt, come away with the idea that they had seen a great ballet at last. (49)

Further, he notes,

. . . music which seems exactly right when performed as part of the ballet for which it is written fails often to please in the concert hall, except in so far as it rouses memories in those who have seen the ballet. (50)

Critic Cyril Beaumont also suggests that music for dance is inferior to that of the concert hall:

. . . the more intellectually satisfying and the more completely expressive a piece of music, the less readily it lends itself to choreographic illustration. . . . (51)

These anomalies are not resolved by simply noting that the whole is more than, or at least different from, the sum of the parts. (52) They suggest that dance is a lesser artform because music that would otherwise be inferior is best for certain dance performances, or because music otherwise excellent is bad for a dance performance. Does an artform using several different artists necessarily result in products inferior to those produced by individual artists? (53) Does dance, instead of expanding upon or expressing music, in fact inhibit it?

The anomalies are resolvable because the value of the perceptual phenomenon of medium X depends not only on its value in isolation, but also in relation to the entire dance

performance. Some general principle is needed for relating the value of each medium to the dance performance overall, and the contribution, either negative or positive, that an individual component makes to the performance as a whole. Measuring an individual component of dance against the totality of which it is a part is problematic and possibly question-begging, however. Even though a dance performance is, in a sense, a "whole" or "unity," it consists of distinct perceptual phenomena appealing to several senses. It is difficult to specify the unity of a given performance, without reference to the component parts and thus without drawing a conclusion about the value of the very component in question.

A more manageable approach is "piecemeal" evaluation of the performance, in the sense of evaluating, not each component separately and independently, but the relationships between a certain few of the components. The key standard for these relationships, used extensively by critics and philosophers alike, is "appropriateness." Beardsley suggests, for example, that one problem in analyzing the relationship between dance movement and music is whether ". . . one music [can] be more appropriate to (a better 'interpretation' of) a musical composition than another." (54) Elsewhere, he says that ". . . the existence of such an art [dance-with-music] depends on the possibility of perceived correspondence between the patterns of music and the patterns of music and the patterns of bodily movement." (55)

The question, then, is what types of factors make one aspect of a performance more or less appropriate to others. Appropriateness could be a simple, pragmatic matter. Costumes would be appropriate if they leave the dancers free to execute the choreography without encumbrance. Scenery could be inappropriate if it takes up too much space and crowds the dancers. Appropriateness could also describe visual harmony: is the setting visually harmonious with the costuming or do they clash uncomfortably? Appropriateness could also describe balance: does the scenery provide a pleasing background without visually overpowering the dancers' movements? The importance of balance between the choreography and dramatic action has been noted by philosophers. Gilson criticizes dance in which ". . . dramatic action, losing sight of the prerequisite of music, imposes on the dance tasks beyond its means." (56) Aldrich says that a dance with "literary or programmatic content" can still be "a great work of art," "[a]s long as it is composed and performed in a manner that does not distract attention from the content to the subject matter outside the dance. . ." (57) Appropriateness of dramatic aspects can mean balance and consistency between dramatic action or theme and the choreography, the dancer's interpretation, or the music. (58)

Munro notes one sense of "appropriateness," as ". . . perfect consistency of style. . ." (59) among different media in the work. He notes, though without agreement or disagreement, a nineteenth century belief that there are

"'correspondences' between the arts, and also . . . correspondences between the senses," (60) and that "It should be possible, accordingly, to translate an emotion or a mood from painting into poetry, or vice versa." (61) however, this notion of "translation" of the same emotion or mood from medium to medium seems obviously an overly simply conclusion from a very general observation that the arts are in some sense "languages." some concepts simply cannot be translated into some media. The concept of mother-in-law, for example, is a favorite example of something which cannot be conveyed in dance.

Munro expresses apparent agreement with a different standard of appropriateness, noting that ". . . the presence of competing stylistic influences may serve to add interest, while it weakens those values which arise from perfect unity," (62) thus implying that complexity in the sense of diversity of style can offset deficiencies in unity.

Munro also hints at another sense of appropriateness, namely, that "each constituent act must select for emphasis certain aspects of the theme, with which it is competent to deal." (63)

Both in theory and in critical practice, there is thus considerable disagreement over what constitutes "appropriateness." Even if there is agreement on synonyms for "appropriateness" ("unity," "consistency," "balance"), applications of that understanding vary widely, as critics disagree about which phenomena warrant those characteriza-

tions. This problem, true of all artforms, is especially apparent in a multi-media one.

Disagreement over the meaning of "appropriateness" is sharpest regarding the relationship of music to human movement. The position most familiar to twentieth-century audiences, that music and dance should be integrally related both rhythmically and dramatically, was espoused as a radical innovation by the eighteenth-century critic, Jean-George Noverre:

. . . the dance music . . . fixes and determines the dancer's movements and actions. He must therefore . . . render it intelligible by the force and vivacity of his gestures, by the lively and animated expression of his features; consequently dancing with action is the instrument, or organ, by which the thoughts expressed in the music are rendered appropriately and intelligibly. (64)

This view, shared by many critics since Noverre, is exemplified in ballet as diverse as Giselle, noted for its musically expressed dramatic themes, (65) and the works of George Balanchine, where dance is a sophisticated visualization or embodiment of the music. (66) This sense of "appropriateness" was not universally accepted, however, and Michel Fokine, the Russian choreographer, felt compelled to again stress its importance in his famous "five principles" in 1914. (67)

In the nineteenth century, many still thought that appropriateness consisted mainly of having a "strong beat" to which the dancers could keep time. A few twentieth-century writers still seem to hold the simplistic idea that one of the most important things about music is how well it

gives the dancers a "beat" to follow. (68) The problems with this view are obvious. Dancers, today, with a more sophisticated understanding of music, can dance to rhythms considerably more subtle than those of previous generations, and audience, likewise, are more sophisticated. Many contemporary dances use music lacking a "beat" in any straight-forward sense, such as music by John Cage. If a strong beat were the most important thing about dance music, Sousa marches and Strauss waltzes would be much more popular for dance than they are.

Another nineteenth-century view of "appropriateness," rejected and now enjoying a resurgence, is that music should serve primarily as a mood-setting background to the movement and not be distracting. Some in the avant-garde have returned to the view that music should play such a minimal background role. (69) Merce Cunningham has gone to the extreme of insisting that movement and music should have no relationship whatsoever. (70) this could be understood as a rejection of "appropriateness" between music and dance as relevant to evaluating dance, or as a negative sense of "appropriateness," that music with no rhythmic or emotional relationship to the movement is most appropriate for dance. Cunningham seems to be interested in developing the potential of movement itself, independently of the usual dramatic or emotional associations, but in doing so he makes dance almost indistinguishable from sport or other non-art. Design of movement by itself does not constitute art, although

his retention of the spectator-performer conventions may salvage some status as performing art.

At the other extreme, Ruth St. Denis, a modern dance pioneer, promoted "music visualization," a very close, mirror-like relationship between music and movement,

. . . the scientific translation into bodily action of the rhythmic, melodic and harmonic structure of a musical composition, without intention to in any way "interpret" or reveal any hidden meaning apprehended by the dance. (71)

Choreography by Doris Humphrey, a disciple of St. Denis, was recently criticized for this close relationship:

Doris Humphrey's choreography was always very closely linked to music - probably too closely for there is a metronomic ordinariness to her dance phrasing that lacks musical flexibility or even sensitivity. (72)

In striking disagreement, another contemporary critic praised a work by Hans Van Manen for precisely this close parallel:

Manen's choreography is wonderfully apt for the music, the dancers matching every phrase with appropriate arm or leg movements in the fugue, growing or receding in strength as does the music. (73)

The disagreement could result from either a different understanding of what constitutes "music visualization" or from differing views on its value. Cohen has criticized extreme senses of "appropriateness," including that of St. Denis:

The relationship [between music and dance] must be clearly perceivable, yet not so simple that it offers no challenge to the intelligent observer . . . [St. Denis'] [m]usic visualization did not last. It was not interesting. It said the same things as the music and nothing more. It made no

comment. A dance that moves constantly against the music is almost as dull. The right mean will be judged relatively to other factors, which include the complexity of both the musical score and the movement. (74)

"Appropriateness" can thus be grounds for criticizing both the extreme of no relationship or similarity and too much similarity.

Similar disagreement exists concerning the appropriateness of the emotion expressed through movement and through music. One extreme view is again that of Cunningham, who so wants to avoid having movement express any emotion that may be suggested by the music that he has created choreography completely independently from the music being composed by John Cage for the dance. Cunningham and Cage would agree on some basic beat and a duration, but ". . . how music and choreography meet at any particular moment is left to chance." (75) Since Cunningham is interested in the potential of pure movement itself, it would be more consistent for him to reject all use of music and then experiment with the emotions which can still be expressed through the movement alone or whether pure movement can be designed which is free of all emotion.

A less extreme view, that the movement should not attempt to relate specifically to the music, was held by the pioneering modern dancer and choreographer Mary Wigman, who wrote, regarding her choreography for Stravinsky's Le Sacre du Printemps:

Could I have said more than Stravinsky had already expressed in his grandiose music? Certainly not. Then I would have to leave the lead to the music and subordinate the dance creation to it. This, of course, meant to relinquish completely all attempts at painting and illustrating the subtleties and colorful shadings of the music through the dance. (76)

Another unorthodox view is Isadora Duncan's, that music is a "motivator," but not something to be "interpreted" or "expressed." (77)

These examples illustrate the use of "appropriateness" as a principle for evaluating the various media in a dance performance. Dance criticism must also, of course, consider harmony, unity, or appropriateness within each medium considered separately (e.g., are the human movements harmonious with each other?), but it cannot be limited to these intra-media evaluations without ignoring the full complexity of the performance. Appropriateness among the various media of a complex artform is a special variety of the problem of what constitutes harmony or unity in a single-medium artform.

"Appropriateness," complexity, or unity cannot be analyzed, however, without first determining the medium or media of the artform of dance. If dance is considered to consist solely of movement with mere accompaniments from other media, then the critical standards of "appropriateness" must be analyzed in terms of how well those other media accompany movement. If dance is held to consist of several media, of varying importance, appropriateness can be more fully developed in terms of the relationships of those

various media. Thus, one important "pay-off" of specifying the ontological status of a work of art in dance is clarification needed to analyze specific critical standards.

Another question arising in a complex artform is how important the value of a particular medium is to the overall value of the work. Questions regarding the evaluation of the goodness of particular components have just been surveyed; next, questions are considered regarding the importance of those individual value assessments to the overall assessment of the performance. Human movement is obviously the most important medium, but how important is the quality of music, costumes, and scenery? (78) Does the value of the music outweigh that of mime passages or scenery? (How does a performance in which the music is very poor and the scenery and costumes very good compare in value with one in which the scenery and costumes are very poor, but the music is very good?)

I would suggest that the importance of the various media of dance coincides with the hierarchy of media discussed earlier: (1) movement, (2) music, and (3) visual dimensions of scenery, costumes, and lighting. Within each of these media, the primacy of human movement and the independence of dance as an artform dictate a further hierarchy of values.

For example, there has historically been considerable disagreement over the relative importance of dramatic quality ("expression") as opposed to the quality of the movement

itself ("technique" or "virtuosity"). Even during the time of Noverre,

the classicists condemn[ed] the predominance of dramatic emotion over consideration of form; the dramatic choreographers repl[ied] that pure dancing is out of touch with life and human problem . . . . Noverre refused to admit that there is any opposition between pure dancing and expressive movement, claiming that dancing, like the other arts, can and should solve the problem of balance between matter and manner. (79)

The major reformers in dance, including Fokine and Noverre, have tried to balance these two major elements, (80) but the disagreement as to their relative importance continues today. Early modern dance reformers re-emphasized the dramatic element, and an over-emphasis on technique to the exclusion of expressive qualities has been widely criticized in the twentieth-century. (81) As noted earlier, some in today's avant-garde have swung to the other extreme of complete rejection of emotion and all dramatic elements in favor of "pure movement." (82)

This dispute illustrates the debate (discussed in Chapter II) over whether dance is primarily a theatrical, dramatic vehicle, using human movement as a medium, or primarily a separate artform of human movement, which can also convey a dramatic element. The former view can be criticized for misplaced emphasis on the dramatic element, at the expense of exploring the full potential of human movement in the independent artform of dance. The avant-garde, who reject emotional content to explore the potential of move-

ment freed of emotion, can also be criticized for short-changing the potential of that movement to express many things, including human emotion. In these lines of argument, for which there are no simple answers, the key factors are the extent to which human movement is central in the performance, the full potential of that movement is developed, and dance is recognized as an independent artform.

The hierarchy of media (movement, music, visual dimensions) helps clarify the relative value of the decor, the scenery and the props, and the costuming. (83) Traditional thinking, as expressed by Fokine, is that

Ballet should reflect an active and equal cooperation of all the arts involved in it; music, scenery, dancing, costuming, all were crucial to a unified creative effort. (84)

Russian impresario Serge Diaghileff, founder and manager of the Ballets Russe de Monte Carlo in the early twentieth century, represents the extreme of letting the value of the costuming and especially the decor overshadow the dancing itself. Although his expressed view was in agreement with Fokine that the dance performance must be a thorough integration of all components, many critics charged that in fact he was more interested in the visual element of human movement. (85) Pablo Picasso himself designed stage settings and costumes for Diaghileff's company. (86) Designs by such artists as Marc Chagall (87) and Salvador Dali (88) in later years also encouraged an over-emphasis on the value of scenery and costuming. Today, critics agree that too much emphasis on

scenery and costumes, at the expense of the human movement, detracts from the overall quality of the work. (89)

Critic Arnold Haskell presented arguments in 1938 which, while not as extreme as Diaghileff, still place far more emphasis on decor and costumes than do critics today. He denied what he considered the then-popular view, ". . . that costumes and decor are merely an embellishment," (90) insisting instead that

. . . costumes is very closely linked with the actual choreography itself, since it is physically a part of the dancer. Costume intensifies the atmosphere dramatically and so assists the narration. Decor must show up the detail and pattern of the choreography. Decor must parallel the music and movement. (91)

Although examples of his view can still be found in evaluations of contemporary productions of nineteenth century classics, (92) Haskell underestimates the potential of human movement itself for expressing dramatic elements and fails to recognize the independence of the artform of dance from the art of the theater.

At the other extreme from Diaghileff and Haskell are contemporary choreographers, including Balanchine, who often use almost no scenery at all and practice clothes for costuming. (93) Critical standards, as well as economics, have encouraged this trend to parsimony. Balanchine is reported to believe that ". . . nothing should interfere or distract from the purpose of ballet - the vision of the body dancing." (94) some of the early modern reformers also reportedly

objected to excesses in scenery and costuming on moral grounds. (95) Philosopher Joanna Friesen summarizes current thinking that, while costumes, lighting, and sets can enhance a performance, they remain of secondary importance:

. . . technical competence in the choice and arrangement of these elements, although imperative to the final perceptual product, cannot sustain the dance form alone. (96)

But a secondary role is still a role important in its way. To understand dance as it is actually performed and appreciated, it is essential that all its various media be fully acknowledged and understood.

NOTES

(1) (Cleveland: Press of Western Reserve University, 1967) [originally published 1949]. Return to text

(2) Ibid., p. 247. Return to text

(3) Ibid. Return to text

(4) Ibid., pp. 247-8. Return to text

(5) Ibid., p. 248. Return to text

(6) Ibid., p. 249. Return to text

(7) Ibid. Return to text

(8) Ibid., p. 495. Return to text

(9) "Movement and Action in the Performing Arts," JAAC, XXXVII (Fall, 1978), 25, 27. Return to text

(10) Ibid., 27, 31. Return to text

(11) Ibid., 27. Return to text

(12) For a detailed account of the importance to dance of the maintenance of specific postures, see G. B. Strauss, "The Aesthetics of Dominance," JAAC, XXXVII (Fall, 1978), 73-9. Strauss analyzes dance ". . . as having three elements or aspects - those of posture (the shape of the image), those of architecture (the image as it related to space), and those of motion (the rhythms and quality of energy used by the image as it moves from one posture to another in space)." Ibid., 73. Return to text

(13) Khatchadourian, "Movement and Action in the Performing Arts," 27. Return to text

(14) Supra, Chapter II, note 106. Return to text

(15) Khatchadourian, "Movement and Action in the Performing Arts," 27. Return to text

(16) Similarly, use of the same music with a different movement design would be a different work. See Anna Kisselgoff's very detailed analysis of the work, especially its complex relationship between music and movement. "Ballet: The Grandeur of Balanchine's 'Barocco,'" New York Times, January 8, 1979. E.g., "The structure of the score consistently finds its equivalent on stage, with the two ballerinas corresponding to the two solo violins, and yet this is no schematic visualization. . . . The idea of polyphonic density takes on an unusual richness." Ibid. Return to text

(17) Twentieth-century audiences are familiar with Balanchine's wedding of movement and music, but a variety of different viewpoints regarding the importance of music have enjoyed acceptance. Until this century, the most popular view was that music should serve primarily as unobtrusive background accompaniment, with otherwise little concern for the quality of music.

Critic Carl Van Vechten notes that in the nineteenth century, ". . . the simplest and most banal tunes, the baldest rhythm, the most threadbare harmony, sufficed. Nay more, music with any true verve or character was repudiated as actually likely to exercise a detrimental effect." "Leo Delibes," The Dance Writings of Carl Van Vechten, ed. by Paul Padgette (New York: Dance Horizons, 1974).

See also, Anatole Chujoy, The Dance Encyclopedia (New York: A. S. Barnes and Company, 1949), p. 35. Return to text

(18) Supra, Chapter II, note 207. Return to text

(19) Modern dance pioneer Mary Wigman rejected the assumption of the primacy of music and created several dances without any music at all, so as to destroy ". . . the domination both of musical formalism and of its emotional suggestions. . . ." John Martin, Introduction to the Dance (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., 1939), p. 234.

Wigman's views evolved considerably during her career, however. After experimenting with silent dances, she moved to what she called ". . . a new re-integration of music with the dance," the simultaneous creation of music and dance, with the dancers continually changing places with the musicians during the creative process. Mary Wigman, "Composition in Pure Movement," in Modern Culture and the Arts, ed. by James B. Hall and Barry Ulanov (New York: McGraw-Hill Book Company, 1967), p. 408. Return to text

(20) Philosophy of Art (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, Inc., 1963), p. 66. Return to text

(21) Ibid. Return to text

(22) Ibid. (emphasis added) Return to text

(23) "Chance and Design in Choreography," JAAC, XXI (Fall, 1962), 15. Return to text

(24) (Atlantic Highlands, N.J.: Humanities Press, 1980). Return to text

(25) Ibid., p. 42. Return to text

(26) "What Is Going On in a Dance?" (Unpublished paper, delivered at Temple University conference on dance, May 5, 1979). Return to text

(27) Ibid. Return to text

(28) Ibid. Return to text

(29) Susanne K. Langer, Problems of Art (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1957), pp. 4-5. Return to text

(30) Khatchadourian, "Movement and Action in the Performing Arts," 26. Return to text

(31) Aesthetics: Problems in the Philosophy of Criticism (New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, 1958). (Hereinafter referred to as "Aesthetics."), p. 366. Return to text

(32) Oxford English Dictionary, 1971, I, 623. Return to text

(33) Ibid., 263. Return to text

(34) Langer, Problems of Art, p. 85 (emphasis added). Return to text

(35) Oxford English Dictionary, 1971, I, 510. Return to text

(36) Langer, Problems of Art, p. 85. Return to text

(37) "'The Afternoon of a Faun' and the Interrelation of the Arts," JAAC, X (December, 1951), 95. Return to text

(38) Ibid. Return to text

(39) Ibid., 109. Return to text

(40) Ibid., 110. Return to text

(41) Ibid., 100. Return to text

(42) Ibid., 111. Return to text

(43) Ibid. Return to text

(44) Ibid. Return to text

(45) Infra, note 86-88. Return to text

(46) "Chance and Design in Choreography," 16. Return to text

(47) Critic Arnold Haskell has said that ". . . the musical purist tends to think in terms of the concert-hall rather than of theatrical effectiveness. The ballet is essentially theatre, and good theatre can under certain circumstances excuse what is bad taste on paper." Ballet (Harmondsworth, England: Penguin Books, 1938), p. 118.

Norman Lloyd makes a similar point: "The most basic rule for dance music is: if it works, it's good. This has little or nothing to do with the quality of the music as music. A dance score cannot be judged on purely musical terms." Norman Lloyd, "Composing for the Dance," in The Dance Has Many Faces, ed. by Walter Sorell (New York: Columbia University Press, 1966), p. 144. Return to text

(48) "Nothing is more wrongheaded than to attempt to judge ballet's emotional expression by the standards of any other art." George Borodin, Invitation to Ballet (London: Werner Laurie, 1950), p. 141. Return to text

(49) Ibid., p. 113. Return to text

(50) Ibid., p. 200; see also, p. 112. Return to text

(51) Cyril W. Beaumont, Supplement to Complete Book of Ballets (London: C. W. Beaumont, 1942), p. 50. Return to text

(52) Many writers have made this rather obvious point. E.g., Borodin rejects ". . . the idea, sometimes held, that ballet is a mere assembling together of parts, like a model made with a constructional toy." Invitation to Ballet, p. 201. Return to text

(53) Borodin notes that ". . . those who create ballet . . . must work, as other artists do, within the limitations of their medium." Ibid., p. 113. This suggests that either collaborative efforts of several artists are more likely to be stifling and inferior or that dance itself is a serious artistic restriction. Return to text

(54) Beardsley, Aesthetics, p. 366. Return to text

(55) Ibid., p. 324. (Emphasis added) Return to text

(56) Etienne Gilson, Forms and Substances in the Arts, trans. By Salvator Attamasio (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1966), p. 205. Return to text

(57) Aldrich, Philosophy of Art, p. 67.

A good example of critical use of this principle is Anna Kisselgoff's criticism of the Royal Ballet's production of Mayerling, choreographed by Kenneth MacMillan: "Strong on theatricality, the ballet is weak . . . in the choreography . . . . A ballet more about ideas than ideas expressed through dancing." "Royal Ballet Offers Houston 'Mayerling,'" New York Times, June 8, 1978. Return to text

(58) One typical example among the numerous ones available is Jack Anderson's finding of appropriateness between the degree of sophistication of movements and music in Jerome Robbins' In G Major: "Jazziness returns in the jaunty final movement, which begins with jogging and ends with what resembles a series of poses for glamorous fashion models. The poses seem appropriate to the sophistication of the concerto. Like Ravel's music, "In G Major" is chic and glamorous, but never merely glib." "Miss Farrell and Martins in 'G Major,'" New York Times, June 18, 1978. Return to text

(59) "'The Afternoon of a Faun,'" 109. Return to text

(60) Ibid., 96. Return to text

(61) Ibid. Return to text

(62) Ibid., 110. Return to text

(63) Ibid. Return to text

(64) Jean-Georges Noverre, Letters on Dancing and Ballets, trans. By Cyril W. Beaumont (London: C. W. Beaumont, 1951),

p. 60. See also, author's preface, pp. 4-5. Return to text

(65) Beaumont says, for example, that "The music by Adam was considered to be superior to the usual run of ballet music, . . . particularly for the close relation of the music with the varied situations of the theme." Cyril W. Beaumont, Complete Book of Ballets (New York: Grosset & Dunlap, 1938), p. 134. Return to text

(66) See, e.g., Lincoln Kirstein's discussion in Blast at Ballet: A Corrective for the American Audience (New York: Marstin Press, Inc., 1938), pp. 22-4. Return to text

(67) The principles were originally printed in The London Times and have been reprinted widely. See, e.g., Richard Kraus, History of Dance (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1966), pp. 171-2. Return to text

(68) Norman Lloyd writes, for example: "One of the primary functions of dance music is that it is needed to hold a group of dancers together . . . . There is a point of rhythmic subtlety beyond which the composer cannot go. . . . Successful dance scores do have a clearly perceptible beat, despite the seeming complexities to the music." "Composing for the Dance," p. 149; see also, pp. 144-5. Return to text

(69) Selma Jeanne Cohen writes that the avant-garde today like their music ". . . sparse and undistracting." "Avant-Garde Choreography," in Sorell, Many Faces, pp. 215-6. Return to text

(70) See, e.g., Mike Steele, "Cunningham: Relentless experimenter with dance," Minneapolis Tribune, March 16, 1975.

St. Denis' colleague Ted Shawn also experimented with "music visualization," described by Jennifer Dunning after a recent revival of his The Dome as: "Neat, plain little geometric assemblages or 'music visualizations' that follow the music beat for beat and impulse for impulse, the dancer were designed in 1933 and 1940 to show that men could retain their masculinity in the ornamental art of dance." "Dance: Premiere at Pillow," New York Times, July 20, 1978. Return to text

(71) "Music Visualization," in Dance as a Theatre Art, ed. by Selma Jeanne Cohen (New York: Dodd, Mead & Company, 1974), p. 130. Return to text

(72) Review of The Shakers, performed by the Jose Limon Dance Company. Clive Barnes, "Limon Dancers Honor Doris Humphrey," New York Times, April 2, 1975. Return to text

(73) Review of Opus Lemaitre, performed by the Pennsylvania Ballet. Samuel L. Singer, "Penna. Ballet Adds A Worthy Import," Philadelphia Inquirer, March 15, 1974. Return to text

(74) Selma Jeanne Cohen, "A Prolegomenon to an Aesthetics of Dance," in The Dance Experience, ed. by Myron H. Nadel and Constance Nadel Miller (New York: Universe Books, 1978), p. 11. Return to text

(75) Cohen, "Avant-Garde Choreography," p. 216. Return to text

(76) Mary Wigman, The Language of Dance, trans. By Walter Sorell (Middletown, Conn.: Wesleyan University Press, 1966), p. 23. Return to text

(77) See, e.g., John Martin, Introduction to the Dance, p. 227. Return to text

(78) Lincoln Kirstein notes, e.g., that "Ballet is, of course, about all these [factors] in varying degrees of importance at different periods of history, or at different moments in the same evening, but it is about one thing constantly, supremely . . . , dancing in time." What Ballet is About: An American Glossary (New York: Johnson Reprint Corporation, 1958), p. 80 [reprinted from Dance Perspectives I (Winter, 1958)] .

As with all criticism, careful analysis is needed to understand the real intent of the writer regarding these relative values. Arlene Croce, e.g., recently made the comment regarding The Sleeping Beauty that "The conductor is more important to the success of this ballet than the ballerina." "Dancing: 'Beauty in distress,'" New Yorker, LII (July 5, 1976), p. 78. A careful reading of her review, however, clearly indicates that she is not claiming that the quality of the music overall is more important than the quality of the human movement in a dance performance. Rather, she is indicating that even though the quality of the human movement is most important to the performance, the quality of the music is so important here that, if it is not good, the movement will almost certainly not be good either. Return to text

(79) Deirdre Priddin, The Art of the Dance in French Literature (London: Adam and Charles Black, 1952), p. 8. Return to text

(80) See, e.g., Fokine's fourth principle, printed in the London Times in 1914: ". . . the entire group of dancers should be used to develop the theme of the ballet and should be part of the plot, rather than having the corps de ballet provide decorative interludes that had no significance."

Quoted in Kraus, History, p. 172. See also the discussion in Priddin, Art of the Dance, pp. 6-7. Return to text

(81) Critical examples abound on this point. See, e.g., Borodin, Invitation to Ballet, p. 69: "What makes a ballet is its form of expression to which technique is no more than an aid." See also, Angna enters, "The Dance and Pantomime: Mimesis and Image," in Sorell, Many Faces, p. 81: "Leaps, stretches, whirls or contortions - those automatic standbys of dance - may make momentarily exciting and decorative patterns but, like all decorative arts, their patterns, repeated, soon pall. And then another stunt must be devised. Art is not a stunt." Return to text

(82) See, e.g., Selma Jeanne Cohen's discussion of Alwin Nikolais, "Avant-Garde Choreography," p. 219. Return to text

(83) Anatole Chujoy notes that the term "DECOR, actually means scenery, props and costumes designed for and used in a theatrical production. In U.S. and English usage, however, decor has come to mean scenery and props, as distinguished from costumes." Chujoy, Encyclopedia, p. 142. For simplicity, we will follow the later usage. Return to text

(84) Excerpted from Fokine's fifth principle in the London Times, 1914. Quoted in Kraus, History, p. 172.

Fokine's principles are still alive today. In praising the National Ballet of Cuba, Anna Kisselgoff recently wrote: "Even more important has been Miss [Alicia] Alonso's adherence to Fokine's famous principles that every element of a production must be dramatically integral to the work itself. This commitment accounts for her fabulous staging of 'Giselle.'" "Cuban Ballet Favors Fokine," New York Times, June 25, 1978.

Cohen notes that costume and decor have played a very important ". . . role in ballet productions from the time of the Renaissance." "Review: Dance Index," JAAC, XXX (Summer, 1972), 558. Return to text

(85) In reviewing contemporary revivals of Diaghileff's productions, Arlene Croce bemoans "the value that was assigned to dancing in those days - fairly low compared with music, scenery, costumes, story, and mime. A dance virtuoso like Nijinsky was expected to work as much with the last three elements as with dance and bring everything to a focus in his performance." "Dancing: New from the Muses," New Yorker, September 11, 1978, p. 126.

Diaghileff's views are widely discussed in the literature. See, e.g., George Auberg, "Design for Theatrical Dance," in Chujoy, Encyclopedia, pp. 147-8; Kirstein, What Ballet Is About, pp. 74-6; Priddin, Art of the Dance, p. 106;

Van Vechten, Dance Writings, pp. 60-1. Return to text

(86) Picasso designed the stage settings and costumes for three ballets by choreographer Leonide Massine for Diaghileff's company: Parade (1917), The Three-Cornered Hat (1919), and Pulcinella (1920). Picasso also designed the curtain for Le Train Bleu, choreographed by Bronislava Nijinska in 1924 for Diaghileff. Chujoy, Encyclopedia, p. 374. Return to text

(87) Chagall designed the sets and costumes for Massine's Aleko (1942) and Adolph Bolm's Firebird (1945). Chujoy, Encyclopedia, p. 90. Return to text

(88) Dali designed the sets and costumes for Massine's Bacchanale (1939), Labyrinth (1941), and Mad Tristan (1944), and Andre Eglevsky's Sentimental Colloquy (1944). Chujoy, Encyclopedia, p. 125. Return to text

(89) See, e.g., Clive Barnes' criticism of Murray Louis' production of Scheherezade that ". . . the work is more concerned with visual and dramatic fantasy than dance expression." "Dance: Murray Louis's Ambitious 'Scheherezade,'" New York Times, December 30, 1974. Return to text

(90) Ballet, pp. 58-9. Return to text

(91) Haskell, Ballet, p. 58. Although Haskell considers scenery to be ". . . less indispensably connected . . . " with a ballet than the costuming, he does claim that, if the scenery were removed from the ballet Jeux d'Enfants, ". . . the 'truth' of this ballet would vanish." p. 58. Return to text

(92) See, e.g., Arlene Croce's detailed analysis of the importance of inadequate scenery in American Ballet Theatre's current production of The Sleeping Beauty, "Beauty in Distress," p. 78. Return to text

(93) Although many contemporary companies follow this practice, Balanchine is perhaps best known for such productions, often using only ". . . a skillfully let cyclorama . . . [and] just leotards or tunics for the women, black tights and white shirts for the men." Cohen, Theatre Art, p. 157. Anna Kisselgoff notes that Balanchine ". . . developed a new line of 'abstract,' almost mathematical works that have familiarly been known as his practice-clothes ballets because they are danced in leotards and tights." "Ballet: 'Episodes' Debuts," New York Times, January 10, 1975. Return to text

(94) Cohen, Theatre Art, p. 157; see also, Balanchine, "Marginal Notes on the Dance," in Sorell, Many Faces, p. 101. Return to text

(95) See, e.g., the discussion in Kirstein, What Ballet Is About, p. 65. Return to text

(96) "Perceiving Dance," Journal of Aesthetic Education, IX (October, 1975), 107. Return to text

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Last updated: August 16, 1997