A Study of the Dancer's Practice
Extract from ‘Practicing my Practice, A study of the composition of the dancer’s practice’ - BA negociated project, London Contemporary Dance School, 2019
I would like to start by approaching practice as ‘what you do’. Nevertheless, I would like to accentuate the fact that there is always a way of doing (how) and eventually always a reason/purpose (why) of doing it; and these two relate deeply to the activity itself. The practice of the dancer is the practice that relates to our activity of dancing, and our identity as dancers. However, there are many activities that you do within and outside of the concept of dance that are relevant to you in an overall sense. The decisions you take about your activity as well as the way of understanding your activity and giving a direction to it. […] So how can we look at practice more integrally?
In order to study the dance practice, I have decided to break it down, and start by asking what happens within in. I will propose a way of looking at what we do as artists, and of thinking of it as part of three concentric circles. The innermost circle represents the core of our main activity of dancing, the second ring other activities that relate to and directly inform the first one, and the outermost what is unrelated to it, the pleasures and hobbies.
At the core of the practice
Steve Paxton, in his book Gravity, depicts how his artistic development involves a constant negotiation with the notion of gravity: ’at any rate, the dance will proceed based on sensations, memories, counts, relationships to both the space and the other dancers (…) that are required negotiations with gravity’ (Paxton, 2018, pp 22). However when he mentions a negotiation, it implies the existence of the negotiator - the body, person or conscience. The previous proposition entitles the negotiator to the agency to take command and to negotiate. It therefore entitles the dancer to an agency to relate actively to all: the space, the body, others and with themselves.
The “dealing” process of the dancer not only refers to a ‘turning of the senses out towards the world’, but also ‘turning your awareness in towards yourself’ (De Spain, 2014, p. 81). The dancer not only deals with the outside conditions but equally experiences and negotiates with her body-self, including memories and emotions, on a daily basis. This experiencing is a major part of the activity, in fact, the dance arises from this individual experience as it affects the way of ‘doing’: ’there are lots of things going on… like what is the feeling when you can do an exercise or when you cannot do it, what is the feeling when one day it comes naturally, what is the feeling when one day everything is crossed (…) it’s like dealing with that everyday’ (See appendix, Chacón, 2019). We are practicing in the studio a way of dealing with all the circumstances both internal and external, we are practicing understanding the relationship between us and our activity.
During most of this research process I looked only at the artistic character of the dancer. Consequently, I unintentionally isolated it from its human nature. However, it was important to recognise the value of our own human practices which inform our artistic journey as Natifah White states, ‘I was thinking of myself as an artist or someone who likes to make or being a part of making things, but I completely dismissed this idea of me being a human being, that actually has a lot of… all these practices, these things that I enjoy doing which inform my creative or my way of making’ (See appendix). To understand the practice of an artist we have to place the ‘artistic self’ within the stream of human life and notice how (much) they affect each other.
In his book Gravity, Steve Paxton starts the story of realisation and interest in gravity by naming what could be considered two (random) events: the first time doing cartwheels, and his plane trips with his father (2018, p. 06). These two events are not deliberate starting points for his practice as an artist, but rather experiences from childhood that later informed his interests and his route in dance. If we were to look back at the image of three concentric circles, these moments would be found in the outer ring. As I have suggested, life events that often seem irrelevant for the artistic pathway can actually feed into the journey of the artist and represent detour points and key references. The dance practitioner, ultimately is just a human being with a practice in dance: ’Remember, a performer goes on stage and then returns home afterward, with only an applause in between’ (Damaged Good et al, 2010, p. 28).
The concentric circles which represent practice in our model now become more permeable and less of a rigid structure. They show that the practice of the dancer is not static over time, but it rather shifts and evolves and is constantly influenced. It does not just respond to the change in the outside, the context, but the change in the inside, within the self:
‘I’m a performing artist,
I change.
I get old. I fall in love.
I move to another city,
I get injured,
I develop skills, I develop knowledge,
I lose interest, I get seduced.
In order to guide me through, my practice has to change’
(Chrysa Parkinson, 2009).
The practitioner
Earlier on in the text, we looked at the big picture of what dancers do, and I structured it within a shape of three concentric circles. However the content of these circles comes from the autonomous decision-making of the practitioner. The devising process emerges from the agency of each individual to follow some specific practices for specific reasons that are valid only for them, almost like a curation of your own practice. A clear example is the techniques and methods that the dancer has found valuable and key for their development. The connections that we establish through these specific techniques translate partially into the skill of the dancer, the further study of which lies outside the scope of this research.
The practitioner also decides about in which context the practice is going to be developed and under which values. The composition of the practice does not necessarily arise through the question ‘what to do?’, but maybe as where and how. As Flor Violeta explains, ‘the question instead of what do we need (as artists) or what do we want to do is like in which context do we want to be put on, because we are fed from the context’ (See appendix). If, for example, you decide to learn specific skills, you do not aim directly at them, but rather at the context in which you will be able to develop these abilities and knowledge. The acquisition of these will only happen as a result of the immersion in this context.
By self-detaching, and looking at all this from the outside the dancer can also decide on what to call and articulate verbally as ‘my practice’. The dancer goes through a consideration of all activities, methods, thoughts, actions, to pick and decide what to consider practice. By reflecting about it the individual can understand their activity even more fully, the main circle, and how it has been informed and shaped by all we have mentioned before.
References from this extract:
Damaged Goods, Stuart, M. and Peeters, J. (ed.) (2010). ‘We are always performing’ in Are we here yet?. Dijon: Les presses du Réel, p. 28.
De Spain, K. (2014). Landscape of the now: a topography of movement improvisation. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Parkinson, C. (2009). Self-interview on practice. Available at: http://sarma.be/docs/1336 (Accessed: 15 January 2019).
Paxton, S. (2018). Gravity. Brussels: Contredanse Editions.
This research was developed in conversation with artists Martin Hargreaves, Rocio Chacón, Natifah White, and Flor Violeta. Their full interviews are part of the appendix of the original text.
A Study of the Dancer's Practice
Extract from ‘Practicing my Practice, A study of the composition of the dancer’s practice’ - BA negociated project, London Contemporary Dance School, 2019
I would like to start by approaching practice as ‘what you do’. Nevertheless, I would like to accentuate the fact that there is always a way of doing (how) and eventually always a reason/purpose (why) of doing it; and these two relate deeply to the activity itself. The practice of the dancer is the practice that relates to our activity of dancing, and our identity as dancers. However, there are many activities that you do within and outside of the concept of dance that are relevant to you in an overall sense. The decisions you take about your activity as well as the way of understanding your activity and giving a direction to it. […] So how can we look at practice more integrally?
In order to study the dance practice, I have decided to break it down, and start by asking what happens within in. I will propose a way of looking at what we do as artists, and of thinking of it as part of three concentric circles. The innermost circle represents the core of our main activity of dancing, the second ring other activities that relate to and directly inform the first one, and the outermost what is unrelated to it, the pleasures and hobbies.
At the core of the practice
Steve Paxton, in his book Gravity, depicts how his artistic development involves a constant negotiation with the notion of gravity: ’at any rate, the dance will proceed based on sensations, memories, counts, relationships to both the space and the other dancers (…) that are required negotiations with gravity’ (Paxton, 2018, pp 22). However when he mentions a negotiation, it implies the existence of the negotiator - the body, person or conscience. The previous proposition entitles the negotiator to the agency to take command and to negotiate. It therefore entitles the dancer to an agency to relate actively to all: the space, the body, others and with themselves.
The “dealing” process of the dancer not only refers to a ‘turning of the senses out towards the world’, but also ‘turning your awareness in towards yourself’ (De Spain, 2014, p. 81). The dancer not only deals with the outside conditions but equally experiences and negotiates with her body-self, including memories and emotions, on a daily basis. This experiencing is a major part of the activity, in fact, the dance arises from this individual experience as it affects the way of ‘doing’: ’there are lots of things going on… like what is the feeling when you can do an exercise or when you cannot do it, what is the feeling when one day it comes naturally, what is the feeling when one day everything is crossed (…) it’s like dealing with that everyday’ (See appendix, Chacón, 2019). We are practicing in the studio a way of dealing with all the circumstances both internal and external, we are practicing understanding the relationship between us and our activity.
During most of this research process I looked only at the artistic character of the dancer. Consequently, I unintentionally isolated it from its human nature. However, it was important to recognise the value of our own human practices which inform our artistic journey as Natifah White states, ‘I was thinking of myself as an artist or someone who likes to make or being a part of making things, but I completely dismissed this idea of me being a human being, that actually has a lot of… all these practices, these things that I enjoy doing which inform my creative or my way of making’ (See appendix). To understand the practice of an artist we have to place the ‘artistic self’ within the stream of human life and notice how (much) they affect each other.
In his book Gravity, Steve Paxton starts the story of realisation and interest in gravity by naming what could be considered two (random) events: the first time doing cartwheels, and his plane trips with his father (2018, p. 06). These two events are not deliberate starting points for his practice as an artist, but rather experiences from childhood that later informed his interests and his route in dance. If we were to look back at the image of three concentric circles, these moments would be found in the outer ring. As I have suggested, life events that often seem irrelevant for the artistic pathway can actually feed into the journey of the artist and represent detour points and key references. The dance practitioner, ultimately is just a human being with a practice in dance: ’Remember, a performer goes on stage and then returns home afterward, with only an applause in between’ (Damaged Good et al, 2010, p. 28).
The concentric circles which represent practice in our model now become more permeable and less of a rigid structure. They show that the practice of the dancer is not static over time, but it rather shifts and evolves and is constantly influenced. It does not just respond to the change in the outside, the context, but the change in the inside, within the self:
‘I’m a performing artist,
I change.
I get old. I fall in love.
I move to another city,
I get injured,
I develop skills, I develop knowledge,
I lose interest, I get seduced.
In order to guide me through, my practice has to change’
(Chrysa Parkinson, 2009).
The practitioner
Earlier on in the text, we looked at the big picture of what dancers do, and I structured it within a shape of three concentric circles. However the content of these circles comes from the autonomous decision-making of the practitioner. The devising process emerges from the agency of each individual to follow some specific practices for specific reasons that are valid only for them, almost like a curation of your own practice. A clear example is the techniques and methods that the dancer has found valuable and key for their development. The connections that we establish through these specific techniques translate partially into the skill of the dancer, the further study of which lies outside the scope of this research.
The practitioner also decides about in which context the practice is going to be developed and under which values. The composition of the practice does not necessarily arise through the question ‘what to do?’, but maybe as where and how. As Flor Violeta explains, ‘the question instead of what do we need (as artists) or what do we want to do is like in which context do we want to be put on, because we are fed from the context’ (See appendix). If, for example, you decide to learn specific skills, you do not aim directly at them, but rather at the context in which you will be able to develop these abilities and knowledge. The acquisition of these will only happen as a result of the immersion in this context.
By self-detaching, and looking at all this from the outside the dancer can also decide on what to call and articulate verbally as ‘my practice’. The dancer goes through a consideration of all activities, methods, thoughts, actions, to pick and decide what to consider practice. By reflecting about it the individual can understand their activity even more fully, the main circle, and how it has been informed and shaped by all we have mentioned before.