PHILOSOPHICAL PROBLEMS OF DANCE CRITICISM
CHAPTER V
THE PROPER OBJECT OF CRITICISM,
SKILLS, AND PRODUCTION FACTORS
by Julie Charlotte Van Camp
Copyright Julie Charlotte Van Camp 1981
All Rights Reserved
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Dance critics often use information external to a performance to identify and separately evaluate the creative aspects of dance (composition of music and movement; design of scenery and costumes) and the interpretive aspects (performance by dancers and musicians; execution of scenery and costume designs). (1) Their evaluation may also take into account production factors not directly perceivable in a performance, including the type of floor, rehearsal time, illness, and injury.
These critical practices are problematic for an anti-geneticist theory of aesthetic value, the best-known of which is Monroe Beardsley's. As a way of legislating against irresponsible criticism, such as describing Schubert's music as "pathetic" solely because one "sympathizes with his poverty," Beardsley will ". . . count as characteristics of an aesthetic object [the proper object of criticism] no characteristics . . . that depend upon knowledge of their causal conditions, whether physical or psychological." (2) Even some who consider this position too strict, excluding as illegitimate certain important critical discourse, agree that it contributes to a desirable goal, the
exclusion of "clearly irresponsible criticism," or "'fantastic' criticism that finds in the work any property whatever suggested by biographical information." (3)
The apparent conflict between anti-geneticism and these critical practices in dance can be resolved by distinguishing evaluation of perceivable performances from assessments of the continuing skills of performing and creative artists.
A. Evaluation of the Creative and Interpretive Aspects of Dance Performances
Separate evaluation of the creative and interpretive aspects of a dance performance requires the identification of these aspects. Such identification is difficult without using sources of knowledge external to that performance or sometimes all performances of a work. The difficulty results from the dance world's tolerance of considerable variation from the original choreographic design, the lack of completely standardized dance vocabularies, and the blurred " division of labor" or responsibility between creation and interpretation. Especially because human physical limitations and variations are uniquely important to dance among the arts, it is often acceptable for dancers to show off individual strengths by substituting different movements or adding major variations to the original material, or for an injured dancer to simplify choreography in order to perform even a semblance of it.(4) Aspects usually regarded as interpretive (a certain turn of the head, facial expression, or phrasing of the arms) could
have been planned by the choreographer or an unseen coach. A critic very familiar with the choreography for a certain dance will recognize these changes, but might still be uncertain who to credit, the choreographer, the dancer, or the coach. It is not easy for critics to even recognize all such changes. Opportunities are rare for one to study beforehand the choreographer's design. Written notational systems exist, but they are relatively new and it is still generally impractical to follow a dance score at a performance, as one might follow the score of a musical performance. Relatively few films of dance performances are available, so dance critics usually cannot study recorded performances beforehand, as a music critic can listen to records. (5) In very recent years, several companies have recorded their repertories on film, but these are often unavailable to critics. Because of established conventions in music, a music critic who has not before heard a particular piece of music or seen the score can be reasonably certain that a musical performance is in accordance with the score (or, at least, that the musicians are attempting to perform it according to the score). In dance, it is difficult to determine exactly which movements in a performance are the design of the choreographer and which are strictly the interpretation of a particular rehearsal director, ballet master, or dancer. (6)
The lack of an absolutely standardized dance vocabulary also makes it difficult to identify creative and interpre-
tive contributions from the perceivable performance alone, although critics occasionally draw such inferences. (7) A performance of a standardized movement, such as a series of multiple pirouettes, can be compared with what the critic knows such a movement should look like. But a choreographer might alter that standard movement by having the dancer perform it off center with a strange finish, as Twyla Tharp did in Mikhail Baryshnikov's solos in Push Comes To Shove; a critic would not know solely from the performance whether this movement was designed by Tharp or was an intentional embellishment or an unintentional mistake in performance by Baryshnikov. The conclusion that it was planned by Tharp uses external knowledge about Baryshnikov's skills as a performer, Tharp's style of choreography, and the difficulty of performing the unusual movement (and thus the unlikelihood of its unintentional performance).
More fundamentally, the criteria for distinguishing between "creative" and "interpretive" aspects are not clear. Creative aspects might be defined as designs in advance of performance by someone other than the performer, while interpretive aspects are contributions by the performer during performance, but this distinction is unsatisfactory. Facial expressions, for example, are usually contributed by the dancers and considered "interpretation," but they might in fact be planned by the choreographer (or the dancer or his coach) in advance of the performance. (8) Changes in the original movement designs could have been planned by a
choreographer or the dancer in advance of performance or could be changed spontaneously because of an emergency during performance. A critic who recognizes the changes might still be uncertain who to credit -- the choreographer, the dancer, or the coach.
Dance has no standard "division of labor." The choreographer can provide more or less of the design details through individual coaching. Every dancer necessarily "creates" when he adds details not designed in advance by the choreographer. No system of notation or fixation can record every movement of every muscle, so the dancer must supply remaining details (whether from conscious deliberation or the reflex of previous training) to perform the design at all. Even if the choreographer does not indicate placement of the head or the fingers, the dancer must choose their placement consciously or unreflectively. When a dancer substitutes his own complete movement design for a certain passage instead of just adding details to the choreographer's design, though this still misleadingly might be considered interpretation. The distinction simply cannot be drawn precisely in terms of who is responsible (choreographer, coach, or dancer), when the activity takes place (design or interpretation), or what things are done (movements or facial expressions).
This distinction between creative and interpretive aspects; might seem to resemble that made in establishing
the identity of a work between essential and non-essential aspects. The motives for establishing identity, however, are not clearly the same as those for making the distinction between creative and interpretative; it is questionable whether these distinctions coincide in purpose and criteria, at least as dance presently exists. The growing recognition of design and execution as distinct aspects of dance to be appreciated and evaluated by critics (9) reflects, instead, the acceptance of dance as a performing art with a collection of works distinct from performances, just as the field of music consists of a collection of scores separate from particular performances by musicians. Critics thus are increasingly interested in properly crediting what is perceivable on stage to the different creative and interpretive artists responsible for it.
Virgil Aldrich blurs these senses of interpretation when he says:
. . . the dancer is generally not the composer of the dance he performs. Yet he composes, in a sense. There is more room for this in interpretive dancing featuring a single dancer than in, say, ballet. In interpretive dance, the dancer realizes the dance in an interpretive articulation, as the pianist the musical composition, or the actor the play. (10)
Aldrich's first reference to "interpretive dancing" is apparently to "ad lib" or improvisational solo modern dances in which the dancer creates a work by functioning as a choreographer in designing his own movement while he dances. This would be analogous to a pianist composing music as he
played. A similar example of "interpretation" which is really more like creation occurs when a dancer substitutes more difficult leaps for the ones planned by the choreographer, either in advance or spontaneously during performance, thus creating a partially new work. In contrast, Aldrich's subsequent reference to interpretation like that in music or theater suggests a different sense in which the work is designed in advance by someone else (choreographer, composer, playwright) but, in performing the design, the artist supplies nuances not designed in advance not necessary to accomplish body movement or the sound of music or words, or possible without redesigning the work.
Beardsley's view that perceptibility is a necessary, though not sufficient condition for specifying the aesthetic object, the proper object of criticism, (11) eliminates much of the information needed to make these distinctions. His anti-geneticism relies on a "principle of distinctness:"
If two things are distinct, that is, if they are indeed two, and not one thing under two names . . . , then the evidence for the existence and nature of the one cannot be exactly the same as the evidence for the existence and nature of the other. (12)
Different evidence for two characterizations of a work of art shows, prima facie, that two different characterizations are being made. Additional evidence or argument would be needed to show that one characterization necessarily entails the other or that evidence for one should count as evidence for the other. Obviously, just because two characteriza-
tions are distinct, and only one is the proper object of criticism, does not mean the other is irrelevant to all analysis of art. The question remains whether, in what ways, and to what each is relevant.
To explain actual practices in dance criticism, consistent with Beardsley' anti-geneticism, I would suggest that the interest in distinguishing creative and performing aspects be understood as an interest in the skills or abilities of individual artists. Such assessments are distinct from and use different evidence than assessments of perceivable performances, but they are still of legitimate interest to critics, consistent with anti-geneticism.
Assessments of skill evaluate an artist's continuing ability or proficiency at his artform. An artist possesses certain skills; he has the capacity, talent, or disposition to do well in his artform. But "being skilled" and "giving a good performance" are not the same thing. An artist is usually determined to be skilled because his many good performances constitute evidence that he possesses certain skills. But an unskilled artist can occasionally give a good performance, just as an artist acclaimed as highly skilled might occasionally give a bad one, perhaps many.
A "skillful performance" and a "good performance" are not precisely the same thing either. As each artform involves several skills, an artist could give a performance skillful in some ways that was bad overall. but even though a demonstration of skills does not necessarily constitute a
good performance, it makes a good performance more likely. This relationship helps account for the particular relevance of skill assessments. The artist who possesses skills is praised because he is more likely to give good performances than one who is unskilled. An individual performance demonstrating possession of skills is part of the evidence that the artist is skilled.
In an ongoing dance world, it is quite appropriate to make assessments of an artist's skills, appealing to knowledge of the artist's work in many performances, as well as to extra-performance information. As suggested by Joseph Margolis:
Critics are, fundamentally, teachers. Their comments upon works of art, accordingly, are adjusted to influence, to instruct, to draw attention to, to indicate, to suggest with tact, to remind, to correct, and a thousand other such functions. (13)The critic is in a special position to instruct others about relationships between certain skills and the quality of perceivable performances. He is well-equipped to explain which skills of which artists are more likely to result in good performances, what pitfalls there might be in the development of certain skills, and how those skills can be used, well or poorly, in striving for good performances. A critic is also in a special position to provide guidance to the dance world about performances that can be expected from certain artists in the future. In an ongoing dance world, where people with different interests look to the critic for
/p. 228guidance, these skill assessments have a legitimate place in the critic's work, even though they should be kept separate from the evaluation of a particular performance, and should not detract from the primary importance of the performance itself. (14)Another example of a skill assessment confused with the evaluation of a perceivable performance is the argument by a critic that the quality of the dancer's performance is even better than it might otherwise be considered because of or in spite of the poor material the dancer had to work with. The value of the creative and performing aspects is interdependent in that the performing aspects are evaluated relative to how good the choreography is, but this does not require resort to nonperceivable factors. If the skill of the performer has enhanced poor choreography through various abilities which are visible in the performance (even though it is not possible to know how much credit is due the performer, the choreographer or coach), then the evaluation of the performance can be made on what is perceivable, without resort to external factors to make skill assessments. If the performer has altered the choreography, something which cannot be determined solely by perceiving the performance, it can still be evaluated; off-stage assessments of the performer's choreographic ability can be made independently of the perceivable performance. Knowing who is responsible for perceivable aspects of a performance is needed to assess individual artistic skills, but it is not necessary to
/p. 229evaluate the perceivable performances. The interest is individual contributions may not be the only motivation underlying distinctions now made between creative and interpretative aspects of dance, but it is an important one and one that has been the cause of much of the confusion.The relative importance of the creative and interpretive elements and how such a ranking is justified, reflects a shifting interest in these individual contributions and differing views on what dance is. Is a performance in which the creative element is poor, but the interpretive element good prima facie better than one in which the creative element is good, but the interpretive element poor? What is more important, choreography or individual performances?While critics of previous centuries emphasized such performing aspects as displays by the dancers of dramatic ability and technical virtuosity, to the neglect of the creative aspects, the twentieth century has seen an increasing emphasis on creative aspects, especially the quality of the choreography itself. Early modern dancers and their critics also stressed individual performance; only recently have modern dance companies become more centered on the choreography itself. In the early years of modern dance, consistent with a view of dance as a form of personal expression, a particular dancer was usually the only one to perform a given dance, which or she had choreographed. Modern companies are now developing the repertory practice, long-established in classical ballet, of substituting dif-
/p. 230ferent performers in different performances of the same dance. (15)Interest in choreography per se has also increased steadily in classical ballet, due in part to the choreographic genius of Fokine, Balanchine, and others. Critics and audiences now view the choreography itself with great interest, even when not particularly well-performed. Some difference in emphasis remains. Balanchine's New York City Ballet emphasizes choreography above everything, while others, such as American Ballet Theatre, stress the performing ability of individual dancers. Still, choreography is of overwhelming interest today in dance, especially in contrast with music and opera, where interest is mainly with the performing aspects. (16)These alternative emphases result from a continuing dialectic about what dance is and ought to be. Emphasis on performance reflects the view that dance is primarily a vehicle for individuals to display their technical and dramatic ability. Emphasis on the choreography is most consistent with the view that dance is the artform about human movement, with the design of that movement more important than one individual's interpretation. The increasing acceptance of the latter results from the growing recognition that, as an artform, dance deals more with universal aspects of human experience and less with particulars. Regardless of the difference in emphasis in these viewpoints, the proper object of criticism is what is perceivable on stage, and
/p. 231is distinct from assessments of the skills of either choreographer or performer.B. Production Factors and the Evaluation of PerformancesDance critics often take into consideration production factors which are not perceivable on stage, but contribute in some important way to the perceivable performance in important ways. To be consistent with both the actual practices of critics and anti-geneticism, these production factors should be understood as legitimate evidence for assessing the skill of artists, but not for evaluating the actual performances.Several kinds of production factors, with different importance to critical evaluation, can be distinguished. Physical performance factors are not directly perceivable in a performance, but help or hinder the physical capabilities of a normal human being. Examples are a springy floor that enables a dancer to jump higher and perform more effectively than he otherwise would be able to, toe shoes that enable a dancer to accomplish movements and positions that she would not be able to achieve without such shoes, (17) and invisible wires and off-stage catapults that once were used to enable dancers to achieve higher and more sustained elevation than otherwise possible. Physical injury (18) and old age (19) are physical performance factors which diminish ordinary physical capabilities.External production factors are all remaining factors which cannot be discerned in the perceivable performance on
/p. 232stage, except by inference, yet which contribute to the nature or the very existence of the performance in some way other than by directly affecting the physical capability of a dancer. These include the methodology used by a choreographer in designing movement, the method of financing used by a company's managers, and the amount of rehearsal time prior to performance.A third type is quasi-performance factors, which are not perceivable on stage by the audience, but are perceivable in some manner by that audience during the time of performance, such as program notes, the decor of the theater, and the clothing worn by the orchestra.Some critics explicitly recognize the irrelevance to critical evaluation of factors not perceivable on stage (such as "performance" during rehearsals (20)), but most seem to assume that some non-perceivable production factors, especially physical performance factors, may be quite relevant. Such references could be written off as newspaper reporting, which happens to be written by a dance critic, to satisfy a gossip-hungry audience, except that the references are sometimes used to justify critical judgments. Critics sometimes argue, for example, that a performance was good even though or especially in view of the fact that the dancer was injured. (21) I would suggest that evaluation of a perceivable performance by reference to a physical performance factor overlooks the differences between evaluations of (1) perceivable performances, and (2) ongoing skills of dancers,
/p. 233which, due to non-perceivable factors, seem to be of greater or lesser quality than they are in fact.The special interest of dance critics in physical performance factors, in contrast with such artforms as music, may be explained by the special status of a dancer's body as his instrument, a body that is especially prone to all sorts of alterations affecting performance. A physical factor of similar interest to critics, although perceivable, is an unusual characteristic of a dancer's body, such as a long neck or well-proportioned figure. (22) Such factors do enhance the quality of the perceived performance, and the choreographer's choice of bodies is as important as his choice of scenery and is frequently discussed by critics. (23) These physical factors, largely unique to dance, are anomalous because they are not, in themselves, part of a dancer's performance. It is assumed that a musician acquires the best instrument possible; he is evaluated in terms of what he does with it. A dancer has no such choice of instruments; he is "stuck with" one body, thus making it more reasonable for a critic to qualify an assessment of a performance by noting explicitly that "in spite of" or "because of" certain characteristics of the dancer's body, the performance was of such-and-such a quality. Critical reasoning that uses physical characteristics, whether or not they are perceivable, assesses an artist's skills at overcoming or enhancing physical characteristics. (24)Various physical or mechanical forms of assistance
/p. 234have been used in dance and have generated considerable controversy among both dance critics and philosophers. In the early ballets at the court of Louis XIV, elevation was accomplished by the use of such machinery as levers and pulleys. (25) "Machines" were considered a "necessary" component of dance in the seventeenth century. (26) Wires were used to produce the illusion of flight in early nineteenth century ballets, and the efforts were praised lavishly. (27) There is some evidence that Marie Taglioni, one of the most famous of the ballerinas who used wires, was actually praised for not using movements of great technical difficulty, while her contemporaries who demonstrated great ability at high leaps, unassisted by wires, were criticized for relying on acrobatics. (28) The use of wires in ballet is now infrequent, although some in the avant-garde are re-exploring their potential. (29) Toe shoes, introduced at about the same time, have gained widespread, although not universal, acceptance. (30) Most critics and audiences of classical ballet accept them now without question, but choreographer Kurt Jooss never used them in his ballets, arguing that they ". . . got in the way . . . . But I trained my dancers' feet so high that audiences often had the impression we were on pointe." (31) Jooss' preference for creating an illusion of height without mechanical assistance is similar to the almost universal contemporary view that high leaps should be accomplished without the use of catapults. Generally, critics who approve of such physical assistance usually claim
/p. 235it enhances the artistic or dramatic potential of dance, while critics who disapprove often claim such measures reduce dance to athletics. (32)Another physical performance factor is the nature and quality of the stage. An untreated oak floor with a bit of spring is a favorite of dancers, and it is an important form of physical assistance, while slippery, hard surfaces can present serious problems. (33) If the floor is average, or especially good, it usually goes unmentioned by critics, but if the floor is especially bad, it is often cited as a qualifier in explaining the quality of the performance. Typical of critical comments is an assessment by Clive Barnes of Valery and Galina Panov in performance at a sports arena: "The bare, square stage, covered with what looks like slippery linoleum . . . was hardly conducive to artistry. Yet, . . . pure genius triumphed over all circumstances." (34) Consistent with anti-geneticism, references to non-perceivable factors can be considered assessment of the ongoing skills of performers, especially their ability to overcome or enhance physical production factors. (35)The acceptability of some physical performance factors, but not others, can be explained in terms of audience expectations about non-perceivable factors relevant to assessing skill. The ongoing skills of a performer can be assessed from a perceivable performance in conjunction with established practices for physical performance factors. Contemporary ballet audiences expect that the women will wear toe
/p. 236shoes and that no one will use wires or catapults; when these expectations are violated by a change in established practice, skill assessments are rendered inaccurate. Knowledge of imperceivable factors is thus required only if they are different from currently established practices and only because they affect the skill assessments made from perceivable performances.This analysis is more faithful to actual critical practices than the analyses of George Dickie and Joseph Margolis that imperceivable factors must be taken into account in evaluating the perceivable performance. Dickie has argued that knowledge of hidden wires is relevant in evaluating the performance of certain extraordinary leaps, as the wires are part of the "proper object of criticism," the aesthetic object, even though imperceptible. (36) Similarly, Margolis has argued, against Beardsley, that "to know that the high-jumping male dancers of the Moiseyev ballet company are catapulted over the heads of the corps is certainly a part of a critical understanding of the company's performance." (37) Dickie acknowledges that we can "distinguish between what might be called the performance of dancers (which would include the wires and such) and the presentation of the dance (simply that which can be seen) which is independent of the means used to produce the presentation," (38) but he insists that "both are involved in the appreciation of ballet." (39) Dickie's own discussion, however, supports the view that the interest in wires is mainly an interest in the
/p. 237skills and perhaps the honesty of dancers, when he says, "Ballet is rather like athletics; a high jumper who used aids would be disqualified."(40)The uncomfortable position in which he finds himself in a subsequent discussion would be resolved, I think, by distinguishing evaluations of the perceivable presentations from evaluations of the skills used by dancers in bringing about the presentations, evaluations which may depend on evidence imperceivable in the presentation. Dickie's uncomfortable position is the asymmetry in evaluating paintings using knowledge of causal factors. He says that certain information, imperceivable in a painting itself, may change the evaluation of the painting, just as information about wires changes the evaluation of a dancer's performance. If we learn that a painting was done before materials were developed which would have made the painting easier to produce, Dickie claims, we not only admire the skill of the painter; our knowledge of the obstacles overcome also seems to make it a better painting. (41) But he notes that although "we do seem to appreciate a painting more if it requires skills," this leads to the rather silly position "that if painters want to paint better pictures they ought to use the most difficult and usually older techniques." (42)Dickie's solution to this predicament is not acceptable. He says that "perhaps the rational thing to do is to admire skill when it is necessary to produce a given result
/p. 238but to regard an unnecessary use of skill (when easier techniques are available) as simply 'precious.'" (43) But one consequence of this solution is that the efforts of dancers performing leaps without wires would be simply "precious"; we would not praise their skill for not making use of an available technique. If, as he says, we really are interested in the skills of the artist as part of the evaluation of what is perceivable in a painting or performance, we should be just as interested in the artist who had unusually great difficulties to overcome, because of what that tells us about his skills, as we are with the artist who had unusually minimal difficulties to overcome (as with the dancer using wires), again because of what that tells us about his skills. A better solution, when there is additional information about obstacles overcome by the artist, is to distinguish (1) the assessment of the painting or performance, which would not change, from (2) the assessment of the artist's skills, which would be upgraded. if a painter sets more obstacles for himself, as in his choice of more difficult techniques, our knowledge of these causal factors provides grounds for admiring his skills, but not for changing the evaluation of the painting itself.Consideration of external production factors, the second category, potentially raises the same problems, but critics rely on them much less in their evaluations. Critics sometimes report a company's financial problems, but in doing so function strictly as reporters of items of interest
/p. 239to a curious readership; they do not seem to consider these factors relevant to judgments of the quality of a perceivable performance. Critics occasionally mention such factors as limited rehearsal time, but describing a performance as well- or poorly-rehearsed seems to be only a convenient way to characterize perceivable precision or sloppiness. (44)One external production factor which has been the subject of critical debate is the method of composition of the music for a dance. For example, although many ballet choreographers now usually use music previously and independently composed, this was not always the case. John Martin, writing earlier in this century, argued:It is as inappropriate to ask a choreographer to create a dance to fit a ready-made score as it would be to ask a dramatist to write a play to fit a series of ready-made settings and costumes. It is not the dancer's business to exhibit the music, but the musician's to exhibit the dancer. (45)
Tchaikovsky's music for the ballets of Marius Petipa, including The Nutcracker, was written according to detailed instructions given by Petipa to Tchaikovsky. (46) Eighteenth-century critic and choreographer Jean-George Noverre gave similar instructions to Gluck for composition of the music for Iphigenie en Tauride. (47) Twentieth-century choreographer George Balanchine used this method in his ballet Union Jack, (48) although he is most noted for choreography using previously-written music. (49) Philosopher Gilson suggests generally: "The dance profits from music to the
degree in which the latter has been conceived with the former in view," (50) although he does not suggest that music should be written with a particular choreographic design in mind.
In contrast with Martin, critic Cyril Beaumont, some years later, accepts without question the acceptability of composing music either before or after the choreography is created. He is concerned instead with the appropriateness of that music to the movement, (51) which is perceivable during the performance. A careful reading of Martin's argument suggests that he too is really most interested in appropriateness though he recommends in 1939 that it is best achieved only when music is specially composed for the choreography. (52) Critics today rarely discuss and do not seem very interested in the manner in which music is composed, possibly because they recognize (as Martin did not) that the history of production, at least with regard to music, is not relevant to the evaluation of the perceivable performance. (53)
Among quasi-performance factors, the third category, the program notes provided at dance performances are of most interest. As program notes are such a well-established practice, and since the audience is expected to read them prior to the performance on stage, it could be argued that they are an integral part of the performance itself, and thus relevant to the overall assessment of that performance. Most critics do not subscribe to this extreme
view, but they occasionally refer to program notes for additional justification of a negative assessment of a performance. (54) Critics also use program notes as a source of information about a choreographer's aspirations, especially when they do not seem to have been met. (55) These limited uses can be understood as ways of assessing a choreographer's skill at realizing his ambitions, but not for evaluating the performance itself. (56) References to program notes are infrequent, perhaps because the printed work seems merely a crutch for explaining or making sense of the performance on stage, instead of a legitimate way of enhancing its quality.
Generally, the relative unimportance to criticism of external production factors and quasi-performance factors seems to reflect the absence of the factor of unique human bodies as dance instruments.
The preceding analysis of all types of production factors could be challenged by appeal to Nelson Goodman's analysis of forgeries in Languages of Art. (57) He suggests that knowledge external to the perceivable work (in his analysis, knowledge that a picture is a forgery) "informs the very character of my present looking," (58) and thus that "the aesthetic properties of a picture include not only those found by looking at it but also those that determine how it is to be looked at." (59) This, he says, is because that external knowledge " . . . (1) stands as evidence that there may be a difference between them [the forgery and the origi-
nal] that I can learn to perceive, (2) assigns the present looking a role as training toward such a perceptual discrimination, and (3) makes consequent demands that modify and differentiate my present experience in looking at the two pictures." (60) But information that encourages me to look for something which can be perceived in a work of art is not necessarily relevant to the evaluation of that work. If, before seeing a dance performance, a critic has read an earlier review of the work that suggests that the viewer pay special attention to the performance of a certain dancer or to a subtle movement that might be missed while focusing on some other activity, the review of the first critic is not relevant in the evaluation by the second, even though the suggestion concerned something important on stage that the second might otherwise have overlooked. A news report that a dancer is performing with an injury may lead a critic to concentrate on his performance with special intensity. External information may be a useful guide for the priorities of things to look at during the performance, but they are still quite distinct from the perceptions available during the performance. There also remains a difference between external factors which are more or less likely to be good guidelines for things to focus on during the performance. Knowledge that a dancer has a sprained ankle is a good guide, as, when we look at that dancer, it is very likely that the performance will be substandard. Knowledge that the company received a grant from a founda-
tion is not likely to be a good guide in viewing the performance. Goodman might argue that this is because the former is an aesthetic factor while the latter is not. A more informative distinction is because the former is a physical performance factor, directly related to the physical capacities of a dancer, as discussed above.
Margolis has argued, contra Goodman, that the possibility of forgery is not restricted to autographic arts for which knowledge of history of production is necessary. He claims that forgery is possible if only notated, perceptual features in dance are stressed, but his example, ". . . an unauthorized dance performance of Graham's 'Frontier,' . . ." (61) is unconvincing. For one thing, "forgery" is not a matter of common usage in dance. Further, an unauthorized performance of "Frontier" is no more likely to be called a "forgery" than an unauthorized performance of a score by Aaron Copland would be. In both cases, these performances are more likely to be called "copyright infringement," whether or not the correct creator was given credit, or, if it was claimed that the work was created by someone else (falsely), mere plagiarism, but not "forgery." The notion of "forgery" suggests that the work has been faked. It is quite consistent to say that the "real" work of "Frontier" was performed, but that Graham was not given credit as the choreographer or that she was given credit but had not given her permission to perform it.
Margolis next goes on to say, in supporting his claim
that the test of forgery does not distinguish works identified by history of production, that ". . . if one stressed the productive history of 'Frontier,' then one could still insist that there was no useful sense in which an unauthorized performance must be a forgery." (62) But this is wholly unconvincing. It is by no means clear how one insists on this denial of forgery, and he gives no examples. Especially substituting his milder sense of forgery - "in the style of," "in the school of," "influenced by" - these concepts only make sense in terms of a certain aspect of the history of production, namely, the person(s) whose style it is, whether Balanchine, the post-modern choreographers, the German modern choreographers, and so forth. It is precisely - and only - with regard to this particular history of production (creation by a certain choreographer) that forgery does make any sense when applied to dance. For example, if John Smith choreographs a work in the style of Balanchine and then presents it with the claim that it is a work choreographed by Balanchine, the deception might plausibly be described as "forgery." But we have many ways of establishing the identity of the work other than appeal to the name of the creator.
Forgery is simply not a concept used in describing and giving credit for the creation of dance. If an audience identifies a performance as Balanchine's Serenade, the added information that Balanchine did not give his permission for the use of the choreography is irrelevant to the
determination that it is Serenade. The performance could have been staged by a former Balanchine dancer or teacher. Without Balanchine's permission the work could constitute a copyright infringement and thus might be called "plagiarism," but this is not a "forgery." Saying that choreography is "in the style of" Balanchine is merely a convenient way of describing the type of choreography, just as the work of lesser composers is described as "in the style of" more famous composers as a convenient way of describing and characterizing the music, without in any way claiming "forgery" in the sense of "passing off" a work as something it is not.
Even using an artificially stretched concept of "forgery" to characterize dance, as does Margolis, this does not defeat our argument that perceivability is necessary to dance. In the unauthorized production of Serenade, this knowledge may make us look more closely for subtle details that can be provided only by Balanchine's coaching (or that of one of his rehearsal masters), just as a review of the previous night's performance might make me more sensitive to watching for those mistakes. But Balanchine's coaching is not necessary for this to be a valid performance of Serenade.
Despite the largely unexamined peculiarities of dance as a complex, performing art, critical practices can be explained consistently with a philosophical theory of anti-geneticism promoting responsible criticism in all the arts.
Of course, these critical practices might be clarified consistently with other philosophical
viewpoints, and the arguments here do not prove the necessity or validity of anti-geneticism.
Hopefully, however, this exploratory examination of some special issues of dance criticism
attempts to provide distinctions and concepts useful in further analysis, especially with respect to
the relevance of non-perceivable factors and assessments of the skills of artists.
NOTES
(1) See, e.g., Myron Howard Nadel and Constance Nadel Miler, eds., The Dance Experience: Readings in Dance Appreciation (New York: Universe Books, 1978), p. 1. Return to text
(2) Monroe C. Beardsley, Aesthetics: Problems in the Philosophy of Criticism (New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, Inc., 1958), p. 52 (Hereinafter referred to as "Aesthetics.") Return to text
(3) Jerome Stolnitz, "The Artistic Value in Aesthetic Experience," The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, XXXII (Fall, 1973), p. 6. Return to text
(4) In 1938, Arnold Haskell stressed the freedom of individual artists to express themselves, as have many other critics, in his Ballet (Harmondsworth, England: Penguin Books, 1938), p. 46. However, as discussed in Chapter IV, this practice is becoming increasingly less acceptable. It is not considered acceptable for anyone to change the choreography of George Balanchine's ballets, for example, unless Balanchine himself re-choreographs the work. Balanchine also rejects the practice of dancers changing the choreography themselves, explaining that, in his ballets, "Nothing is left either to principals or corps de ballet to do for themselves; I show them every tiny movement and the least mimetic action; and I count their every step." Quoted in Cyril Beaumont, Complete Book of Ballets (New York: Grosset & Dunlap, 1938), p. 793. Return to text
(5) The Jerome S. Robbins Film Archives at the Performing Arts Research Center, New York Public Library, Lincoln Center, has over one million feet of film and is probably the largest collection of dance films accumulated in one place. Although the Library since 1967 has commissioned 58 films of major dance works, many of the holdings (including, e.g., most of the current repertoire of American Ballet theatre) cannot be viewed by the public due to contractual agreements with unions and choreographers. Some choreographers, including George Balanchine, have shunned, until very recently, efforts to record their works on film. Much of the Robbins collection consists of movies made by amateurs during dress rehearsals, which are incomplete and often focus on one dancer to the exclusion of the other dancers on stage. "Dance Collection: Resume of Services" (mimeograph) New York: New York Public Library [1976]. Conversations with library staff, January-March, 1976. Return to text
(6) Critic Marcia B. Siegel has noted this dilemma: "What neither [written] notation system does, to my knowledge, is to tell us the style in which the dance is done . . . Here a
film can tell you much more than a written document, can show that breath of life in the dance that a mere recital of steps cannot do. Film can also often clarify whether a certain shift of weight, placement, phrasing, focus is particular to the dancer who's doing it or is an intentional part of the choreography." Marcia B. Siegel, "Waiting for the past to begin," in Growth of Dance in America, ed. by Edward Kamarck (Madison, Wisconsin: Arts in Society, 1973), p. 233.
Although a film can provide some such clarifications, it will not necessarily do so. The choreographer may still be responsible for those nuances, providing them through personal coaching rather than the written notation. Return to text
(7) Arlene Croce, in her review of a performance of The Sleeping Beauty by the Bolshoi Ballet, includes a detailed analysis of those elements of a dancer's performance which seem to be the result of his interpretation and those which are apparently the result of the director's guidance: ". . Levashev gives every indication of having worked out his role himself. His mime declamations are rendered in a thrashing monotone, without the modulations good direction might have elicited. later, bad direction makes him completely illegible in a pointless downstage scene in which he's lifted and carried from place to place by his attendants. . ." "The Bolshoi Smiles, Sort of," New Yorker (May 26, 1975), p. 89. It is probably safe to assume, regarding a series of movements involving several dancers lifting others, that the movements are performed in accordance with the choreographic design. However, the characterization of the mime declamations is based solely on inference and may, of course, be false.
Jack Anderson, in a review of Cinderella, also seems to assume that the original choreographic design is being followed, but that the dancers are inserting their own interpretive nuances in the first sense of interpretation discussed earlier: ". . because the specific choreographic motions devised by Mr. Panov within this structure range from the pleasant to the uninspired, the production requires sensitive performances by its principal dancers to provide it with charm and fantasy throughout all three acts." "Berlin Troupe Dances 'Cinderella,' by Panov," New York Times, July 11, 1978. It might be the case, of course, that the sensitive performances resulted from coaching of the dancers, either by the choreographer or by someone else. There does not seem to be any way of telling from the performance here. Return to text
(8) See, e.g., George Beiswanger, "Chance and Design in Choreography," JAAC, XXI (Fall, 1962), 14: ". . . dance, like music and drama, relies upon the interpretive power of skilled performers in order to create the fully realized work . . . . If he wishes a choreographer may design every
movement down to the last detail. . . ." Return to text
(9) Joanne Friesen urges: "The aesthetic quality of a dance is . . . affected by its technical competence. . . . Dancers and choreographers are used, and the discriminating viewer must learn criteria for evaluating and enjoying the technical aspects involved with each." "Perceiving Dance," Journal of Aesthetic Education, IX (October, 1975), p. 100. Return to text
(10) Virgil Aldrich, Philosophy of Art (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, Inc., 1963), p. 66. Return to text
(11) Beardsley, Aesthetics, p. 58. Return to text
(12) Ibid., p. 19. Return to text
(13) Joseph Margolis, The Languages of Art and Art Criticism (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1965), p. 67. Return to text
(14) Friesen urges, consistent with this distinction: "The respect for skill is not an adequate substitute for aesthetic appreciation of the aesthetic image as such." "Perceiving Dance," 101. Return to text
(15) See the discussion of this trend by Clive Barnes, "Modern-Dance: Made to Last?" New York Times, March 10, 1974. See also Barnes' discussion of the trend in the Alvin Ailey, Martha Graham, and Jose Limon companies, "Dance: Limon opts for Varied Casting," New York Times, April 11, 1975. Anna Kisselgoff makes a similar observation in her review of Alvin Ailey, "Ailey Finds a Star in Esttelle Spurlock," New York Times, April 21, 1975. See also, Barnes, "spinning Off the Modern Way," New York Times, February 29, 1976. Return to text
(16) See, e.g., Hilton Kramer, "Where Are Today's Masters - and Tomorrow's?" New York Times, August 29, 1976; "Opera too flourishes, of course, . . . but it flourishes as a performer's, not as a composer's art. . . . We do not go to the opera to hear new music the way we go to the ballet to see new choreography. New music has become a specialists' pastime, whereas new choreography has become a major theatrical experience, and this difference places a distinct limit on what any master composer, even should one materialize on the operatic stage, might hope to accomplish in a field that seems for the moment to have forfeited its lease on significant new expression." Return to text
(17) It could be argued that toe shoes are perceivable on stage during the performance, and thus are not properly a "physical performance factor," as the notion is used here. However, what the audience perceives is a satin shoe with ribbons and a box-shaped toe. The audience does not perceive the layers of glue and stiffening on the point and sole of the shoe that give the dancer the means by which to raise to "full pointe." Return to text
(18) Judy Bachrach speaks glowingly of Alicia Alonso's abilities as a dancer, especially in view of Alonso's almost complete loss of her eyesight for ten years. "Cuba's Alicia Alonso: Free to Dance," Washington Post, April 8, 1976.
Critic Alan M. Kriegsman once praised Rudolf Nureyev's performance in Raymonda, especially considering that Nureyev had just recovered from pneumonia. "Nureyev's 'Raymonda'," Washington Post, April 9, 1976. Return to text
(19) Alicia Alonso seemed to receive special praise because of her age (56?) for her 1978 performances in North America with the National Ballet of Cuba: typical of such comments are those of Alan M. Kriegsman: "to watch Alonso dancing this role is to see a miracle in action. It is an immensely strenuous part, demanding sharp attack and heated emotional outpourings. Yet Alonso performs it with unflagging energy and intensity, looking half her years all the while, whipping off half a dozen pirouettes at a clip, shooting out those incredible legs like javelins. How it is possible for a woman of 56 to do what she does is a secret known only to Alonso and divine providence." "Alonso and An Imposing 'Oedipus'," Washington Post, June 7, 1978. Return to text
(20) Audrey Williamson says, e.g., that "The final criticism must, however, be based on the dancer's performance on the stage, not on his technical feats in class which, until they are definitely employed by a choreographer, are a matter only of speculative interest." Robert Helpmann, in Dancers and Critics, ed. by Cyril Swinson (London: Adam and Charles Black, 1950), p. 76. Similarly, A.V. Coton says that "A dancer must be judged in performance -- a fine piece of 'show-off' in classroom will thrill any connoisseur present, but it isn't a performance." "Beryl Grey," in Dancers and Critics, p. 35. Return to text
(21) Kriegsman seems to reason in this fashion in a praise-filled review of Rudolf Nureyev: "One would scarcely have guessed looking at Nureyev as Armand, that he was still recuperating from an injured foot." "Dance Artistry," Washington Post, July 10, 1975.
In a related example, Edward Villella's injury is cited
as an excuse for a performance not as good as Villella ordinarily gives. [unsigned], "Maryland Ballet: The Best News of All Was in the Performances," Washington Post, February 24, 1976.
Anna Kisselgoff seems to make a clear distinction between on-going skills and perceivable performances in her comments on Daniel Duell's performance in Harlequinade: "Since he is said to be recovering from a severe injury, Mr. Duell's appealing, wistful Harlequin should perhaps be judged more on potential than achievement." "Ballet: The Grandeur of Balanchine's 'Barocco,' New York Times, January 8, 1979. Return to text
(22) Arnold Haskell, e.g., says that "The dancer needs the perfect instrument, for of course she is an instrumentalist. She needs also an attractive and expressive face." "Irene Skorik," in Swinson, Dancers and Critics, p. 45. Return to text
(23) A typical example is George Jackson's criticism that ". . . the one man was miscast; Lazaro Carrero looked too juvenile as the eldest's fiance." "Two Cuban Premieres," Washington Post, June 8, 1978. Return to text
(24) Etienne Gilson has noted the physical characteristics of the dancer's body and what the dancer does with those characteristics: "Although natural beauty is a useful asset to the dancer, it is not indispensable; certain defects can even be advantageous provided they facilitate the effort and movement proper to the dance. A feminine dancer with a fairly small head on a fairly long neck, with legs and arms that are longer than the average can achieve effects that would be otherwise impossible. But we also see male and female dancers with small builds who turn the particularities of their physique to good account." Forms and Substances in the Arts, trans. by Salvator Attanasio (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1966), p. 190; see also, p. 192. Return to text
(25) Haskell, Ballet, p. 19. Return to text
(26) Saint-Hubert, "How to Compose Successful Ballets," in Dance as a Theatre Art, ed. by Selma Jeanne Cohen (New York: Dodd, Mead & Company, 1974), pp. 32, 37. Return to text
(27) Didelot's Flore et Zephire is credited with being ". . . the first ballet in which wires were used to enable the dancers to simulate aerial flight." Beaumont, Complete Book of Ballets, p. 21. However, ". . . the principal dancers did not risk themselves on the wires, their parts were doubled by others; and there were only two dancers on wires. . . ." Ibid., p. 85. "in [Didelot's] Alceste, demons
flew from the depths of the scene to above the footlights, and waved their flaming torches over the spectators in the stalls. In Cupid and Psyche, . . . Didelot made Venus appear in an aerial chariot drawn, apparently, by fifty doves. Each bird was fitted with an elastic belt carrying a length of fine wire which was attached to the car." Ibid., p. 17.
Although Didelot's efforts received considerable praise, a later ballet, La Sylphide (first produced by Philippe Taglioni in 1832), also made extensive use of wires to lift the dancers. In the second act of the ballet, some twelve to fifteen dancers, including the ballerina, Marie Taglioni, used wires to create the illusion of flight. Ibid., p. 85. Return to text
(28) Ivor Guest, The Romantic Ballet in Paris (Middletown, Conn.: Wesleyan Univ. Press, 1966), p. 115; see also, pp. 114, 128-9. Return to text
(29) Supra, Chapter II, note 135. Return to text
(30) The earliest toe shoes were apparently regular soft slippers which were darned heavily for added support. They are thought to have been used as early as the 1829's but most agree that the first extensive use of toe shoes for dancing sur les pointes was made by Marie Taglioni in La Sylphide in 1832. See Anatole Chujoy, The Dance Encyclopedia (New York: a. S. Barnes and Company, 1949), pp. 480-1.
Toe shoes are widely accepted for women, but not for men. There are some isolated examples, however, of men dancing on full point, including a 1937 Russian ballet, The Prisoner in the Caucasus: "The principal interest of this ballet is the Circassian dances, which the men dance in their pointed boots, many of the steps being actually sur les pointes. This kind of dancing was effectively used by Fokine in his ballet Thamar, the scene of which is also laid in the Caucasus." Cyril Beaumont, Supplement to Complete Book of Ballets (London: C.W. Beaumont, 1942), p. 172.
More recently, in The Dream, "[Frederick] Ashton used a balletic convention for a surprising and comic purpose, by putting [Bottom], when transformed into an ass, on point." David Vaughan, Frederick Ashton and His Ballets (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1977), p. 343. Return to text
(31) Roy Koch, "'I'm a Playwright of Movement,'" New York Times, March 14, 1976. Return to text
(32) See, e.g., Cohen, Dance as a Theatre Art, pp. 66-7; 104-5. Return to text
(33) See, Alan M. Kriegsman, "Uneasy Landings: It's a Hard Opera Floor," Washington Post, March 2, 1979. Return to text
(34) "Ballet: The Panovs Make Debut in U.S.," New York Times, February 6, 1975. See also, Clive Barnes,"At Long Last, the Panovs," New York Times, February 16, 1975. Return to text
(35) Dance teachers seem to agree that what finally counts is the perceivable performance, and that dancers must develop skills to overcome all such adverse conditions and not use them as "excuses" for poor performance, as perceivable to the audience. For example, in the late nineteenth century, Christian Johannson trained dancers in St. Petersburg to maintain their equilibrium under the most adverse stage conditions by making puddles of water on the classroom floor. Natalia Roslavleva, Era of the Russian Ballet (New York: E.P. Dutton & Col., 1966), p. 111. Return to text
(36) George Dickie, "Art Narrowly and Broadly Speaking," American Philosophical Quarterly, 5 (January, 1968), 74. Return to text
(37) "Aesthetics: Problems in the Philosophy of Criticism" (Review). The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, 17 (December, 1959), 267. Return to text
(38) Dickie, "Art Narrowly and Broadly Speaking," 74. Return to text
(39) Ibid. Return to text
(40) Ibid. Return to text
(41) Ibid., 76. Return to text
(42) Ibid. Return to text
(43) Ibid. Return to text
(44) A typical comment is George Jackson's that, "As usual in this company, the cast was utterly rehearsed and boasted some potent performances." "Two Cuban Premieres," Washington Post, June 8, 1978.
A similar example is Jennifer Dunning's comment, concerning a performance of Giselle by the National Ballet of Cuba, that "Each corps dancer is said to be given a character background, even if dancing a Wili, and the conviction with which the smallest of parts is approached provided almost too realistic a background for Miss Alonso's
dreaming, frail Giselle. . . ." "Dance: Alicia Alonso Projects Wraith Giselle," New York Times, July 22, 1979. Although Dunning seems to have knowledge of off-stage rehearsal methods for preparing the dancers, the criticism of the "too realistic" background could be based solely on the perceivable performances by the corps. Return to text
(45) John Martin, Introduction to the Dance (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, Inc., 1939), p. 217. Return to text
(46) Norman Lloyd, "Composing for the Dance," in The Dance Has Many Faces, ed. by Walter Sorrell (New York: Columbia University Press, 1966), pp. 140-1. Lloyd gives an example of Petipa's instructions: "Soft music . . . 64 bars. the tree is lit up . . . 9 bars of sparkling music. the children enter . . . 24 bars of joyful animated music. A few bars of tremolo depicting surprise and admiration. A march . . . 64 bars. A short rococo minuet. . . 16 bars." Ibid., p. 140. Return to text
(47) Ibid., p. 141. Return to text
(48) Anna Kisselgoff, "Ballet's Bicentennial Bow to Britain," New York Times, May 13, 1976. Balanchine choreographed to a simple hornpipe tune played repeatedly by a pianist to provide a "skeleton of beats." The composer then ". . . wrote down the number of counts the dancers needed for each sequence," and only after the choreography had been completed did he begin the score. Return to text
(49) Bernard Taper notes, for example, that "Some choreographers habitually choreograph first and then commission music to go with their steps. Balanchine does not work in any such fashion. Music, he says, provides the platform on which he can move. when a piece of music intrigues him, he feels impelled not to illustrate it in dance but to invent movement that provides a visual complement." "Balanchine Is A Prism that Refracts Music Into Dance," New York Times, November 17, 1974. Return to text
(50) Gilson, Forms and Substances in the Arts, p. 204. Return to text
(51) "The Practice of Ballet Criticism," in Swinson, Dancers and Critics, p. 15. Return to text
(52) He claims, for example, that music's " . . full mission . . . is to serve as a projection of the dancer's voice and rhythmic pulse; its purely musical requirements are nil and the farther it is removed from their indepen-
dently developed mechanisms of musical structure and orchestral instruments, the more completely it will fulfill its functions." Introduction to the Dance, p. 246. Return to text
(53) Jennifer Dunning notes the unusual method of production of the music in a recent review, but she seems more interested in the perceivable qualities of the performance: "Dance created through the collaborative efforts of choreographers and composers was once a fashionable experimental art form. Its popularity has not waned entirely. . . . The mutually unenhancing choreography and music went uncredited, but if these were improvisational efforts by the two dancers and a handful of musicians, they certainly had none of the vitality of spontaneous invention." She then describes the perceivable qualities of music and movement in some detail. "Dances by a Pair of Loft Veterans," New York Times, July 15, 1978. Return to text
(54) Clive Barnes seems to argue, in a generally favorable review of John Neumeier's Trilogy, that the program notes detract from the overall quality of the ballet: "His irrelevantly subjective program notes tend to obfuscate the drift of his choreography." Elsewhere in the review, Barnes says, "There are six dancers, although all represent (according to the program note, for one could never guess) six aspects of one individual. . . ." "The Ballet: A Trilogy by John Neumeier," New York Times, April 7, 1975. Return to text
(55) Anna Kisselgoff says in a review of Walter Raines' After Corinth: "The catch is that the program note insists on a theme that is simply not borne out by the action onstage." "Harlem Troupe Dances 'After Corinth,'" New York Times, May 2, 1975.
Similarly, in a very negative review of a performance by Merce Cunningham's company, Clive Barnes says: "In a program note, Mr. Cunningham is quite precise as to his purpose. . . . fine words, but an infernally dull evening." "Pomare and Cunningham Dance Companies Perform," New York Times, May 28, 1975.
In a negative review of Gilbert Reed's The Fiddler's Child, Jack Anderson wrote: "Without the program notes, the dramatic situation might have been unclear. yet choreographically the story was not really much of a story. . . . but the plot defeated the ballet." "Ballet: Tribute to Janacek at Spoleto," New York Times, June 12, 1978.
In each of these examples, it seems that the criticism of the ballet was based solely on the inadequacies of the perceivable performance; the program notes provided confirmation that a goal was not met, but they were not themselves used as evidence to justify the assessment of the value of the perceivable performance. Return to text
(56) An example of a choreographer who has recognized this distinction is Judith Snyder Jaffe who, writing under the supervision of Rudolf Arnheim, said: "The audience should be able to understand the dance without realizing what I was specifically thinking of." "Expressive Meaning of a Dance," JAAC, XII 1954), 519. Return to text
(57) (Indianapolis: The Bobbs-Merrill Company, Inc., 1968), pp. 99-112. Return to text
(58) Ibid., p. 104. Return to text
(59) Ibid., pp. 111-12. Return to text
(60) Ibid., p. 105. Return to text
(61) "The Autographic Nature of the Dance," JAAC, XXXIX (Summer, 1981), 424. Return to text
(62) Ibid. Return to text
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