Native American Dance Steps

Bessie Evans, May G. Evans

• Publisher: Dover Publications
• Year: 2012
• ISBN:
  9780486145501
• Topic: History
• Subtopic: North American History
• Index: History

This well-researched book provides details of the varied steps that certain groups of Native Americans have used to express their dance ideas — from skips, jumps, and hop steps, to an Indian form of the pas de bourrée. Similarities to Oriental dances, classical ballet, Spanish and Russian variants, and steps in other dance forms are also considered. Examples are given of Indian dance music, words, and descriptive sounds that accompany this music, and the choreography of certain typical Indian dances of the Southwest. Authentic illustrations by a Native American artist depict dancers, while outline figures characterize steps and postures. An inportant addition to the libraries of anthropologists and students of Native American culture, this classic will be invaluable to ethnomusicologists and choreographers.

Part One

PROLOGUE

“A MERE JUMPING up and down to the monotonous beat of a crudely fashioned drum.”

In some such manner as this is the casual observer prone to dismiss the subject of American Indian dance-art; regarding it as a quite simple affair and devoid of special appeal or significance. As a matter of fact, it is far more than this. Even the briefest study of the technique and the style of Indian dancing discloses that its steps are varied and often difficult of execution, and that its mood and manner are highly expressive of a peculiar, native genius. It discloses also that the rhythms are diverse, complicated, and marked by frequent change. And, more than all this, it discloses that Indian dance-art is basically different from other forms. It is this basic difference, this distinctive expression of racial character, that makes the study of Indian dance and its accompanying song at once baffling and fascinating.

It has always been difficult for the white man to bridge the distance between himself and the North American Indian. This is due partly of course to the naturally great depth of the chasm between primitive man and civilized man; and partly also to the seeming impossibility of breaking down or penetrating the reserve of the Indian. His personality, indeed, is as baffling as his dance-art. So true an expression, however, of his inner self does this art appear to be, so keen is the flash of revelation it brings, that in it the soul of the Indian seems to be laid bare in a greater measure than in any other phase of his personal activity. In his dance and song he is caught, as it were, off his guard.

It is, then, important—even urgent—that this significant American folk-art be preserved and safeguarded. Safeguarded especially from the standardizing hand of the white man; from the tragic deterioration that has been wrought in many other phases of Indian life and product. Happily, the Indian’s dance and song have thus far proved to a great extent immune from the blight of the commonplace. Signs are not lacking, however, that they, too, are threatened.

There is, therefore, no time to lose. Dances of all the tribes should be accurately recorded as soon as possible, for fear that in the not distant future they may become altogether extinct; or at least may share a fate similar to that of most of the Indian music now heard on the concert stage—native melody so diluted by the admixture of vocal, instrumental, and harmonic elements supplied by the white musician, as to be virtually denatured. Such use of folk-music has, of course, its rightful and important place in the art of the cultured composer or performer. Its effects are, indeed, often beautiful and inspiring in the case of the free employment of Indian thematic material —however much it may tend to obscure the traditions of authentic native music.

The purely musical element of the Indian’s composite art of dance and song has fared better at the hands of scholars than has the element of body movement. Hundreds, thousands, of native tunes of tribes in many parts of the country have been recorded by musicians specially fitted for the task. The melodies have been transcribed by them in as accurate a form as present musical notation permits. Supplementing the work, phonograph records have been made at first hand, by means of which not only the melodic content but the tone-quality and the style have been reproduced with absolute fidelity. Thus a great body of pure, authentic Indian song has been preserved in permanent form. The world’s debt of gratitude to these single-hearted musicians becomes the greater in view of the seemingly inevitable passing of the aboriginal American.

It is to be hoped that laborers in the field of Indian research will ultimately be moved to do as much in the case of Indian dance-art. Hitherto, efforts in this direction have been confined chiefly to the ritualistic, the symbolic, the musical, and the dramatic elements of Indian ceremonial; in which phases profound and detailed research has been made by eminent scholars.

It must be admitted that it is not easy to convey adequately by word, tune, diagram, or picture, the indefinable but distinctive mood of a dance. These aids can, nevertheless, do much to enable the student to assemble the various parts into a form that has a fair degree of fidelity to the original. Something more vivid, more dynamic, however, is needed in order to inform the substance with the spirit. There are qualities in the ceremonial dances of the Red Man that must be personally seen and heard and felt; for of them is born the elusive charm that defies analysis or description. This is true of the dance-art of any race; but especially of one so removed in thought and culture as a primitive people like the American aborigines.

Supplementing personal observation and abstract study, mechanical means are now available—or at least are rapidly being developed—that are capable of providing a very fair substitute for actual first-hand performance. Such little as has already been accomplished in this direction by moving-picture drama is at least highly suggestive of the possibilities. And this, notwithstanding the fleeting and fragmentary glimpses thus far afforded by films that are usually so speeded up that the dancers in them seem bent chiefly on scurrying out of the picture with indecent haste. With a proper application, however, of modern inventions for the synchronization of movement, sound, line, and color, it should soon be possible to reproduce Indian dances in complete and permanent form. With the aid also of “slow-motion photography” the technique of the art could be analyzed and thus made available to students everywhere.

It may be objected—on good ground—that there is a very real obstacle in the way of accurate and complete recording of the ceremonials. That obstacle is the Indian’s own distrust—also on good ground!—of the attitude of the white man. There is no denying the strength of this argument. Personal observation has afforded many illustrations of both sides of the case.

An instance in point: A conservative Indian of New Mexico consented to dance a secular dance of his tribe; but he flatly refused to show the steps of a beautiful ceremonial dance. Nor would he for a long while give any reason for the refusal. At last, after much persuasion, he said, through an interpreter, “It is because you will tell lies about me.” His fear—a fear that probably lurks in many another Indian heart—was evidently that he would be misrepresented at Washington.

Another instance: At an impressive Pueblo ceremonial the white folk who had been graciously allowed to attend were informed that it was not permitted to take photographs of this particular dance. Undaunted, several in the group levelled their cameras at the dancers. No fewer than five times did the Indian Governor of the Pueblo have to leave his post in the choir to remonstrate with the recalcitrant guests. “But I got four snap-shots all the same!” gleefully whispered one of the women to her companions.

Yet another instance: A curious, staring crowd of white men and women were gathered around a dignified chief, one of a group of Indians that had been taken on tour for a demonstration of Indian life and art. Suddenly one of the white women leaned forward and, in much the manner of a reporter interviewing a foreign visitor, said affably to the Indian chief: “And how do you like our country?” Our country!

Yes, lack of sympathy and of understanding on the part of the white race has, indeed, created obstacles to research. But not insuperable ones. Despite much of the Indian’s experience with white folk—experience of their broken faith, of their misinterpretation of motive, of their assumption of lofty superiority as “discoverers” of America—the native good-will of the Red Man makes him still amenable to considerate treatment. Once convinced of the sincerity and friendliness and common sense of a white acquaintance, the patient aboriginal (man or woman) is generous in coöperation—as many students of Indian life can attest.

That the Indian’s own attitude toward dancing is one of remarkable earnestness is manifest to the student at the outset. For example—

The Indian takes his dancing disinterestedly. He does not dance to earn his living; or to win applause on the stage—he is not working for curtain calls.

He takes his dancing heroically. And this, even to the point of self-sacrifice for a principle. “The Government may send its troops to shoot us down; but we will not cease our dancing,” was the answer when the United States Government some years ago tried to put a stop to Indian ceremonies (as cited to the authors by Ernest Thompson Seton, who was present when the order was first issued to one of the tribes of the Southwest).

He takes his dancing responsibly. Night after night preceding a tribal ceremonial can the rumble of drum accompaniment be heard, making its way in sombre, muffled tones from the seclusion of the meeting-place where those chosen for the forthcoming performance are assembled. There, every step, every tone, every drum-beat, every syllable, is rehearsed diligently, lest there be a flaw of omission or commission in a ceremony designed to honor and propitiate, not offend, the spirit-powers.

And he takes his dancing reverently. Anyone who, like the present writers, has been granted the rare privilege of attending an all-night dance-ritual in a Pueblo Indian kiva (the sacred ceremonial underground chamber of secret tribal councils, devotions, and rehearsals, where commonly the profane foot of white man or woman dare not tread); anyone who has noted there the absorbed, the rapt, expression on the faces of the dancers; anyone who has felt there the rhythm of movement and song and inexorable drum-beat, that seems to make the hard ground throb with the throbbing of the dancers, and cry out with their cry that rain be sent to a thirsty land—anyone who has been responsive to all these things can but realize that in the dance the Indian finds a channel not only for the outlet of his esthetic nature but for the inflow of spiritual power.

Though in his own worship the white man has seen fit to retain other fine arts—music, poetry, painting, sculpture, architecture—he has lost the dance-art from the service of the church (except as it may be said to linger in the processional). For centuries he has been reading reverently in the Psalms the admonition: “Let them praise his name in the dance”; but he has left it to primitive man to give heed. Not left it, though, without some little interference; for civilization has been slow to perceive that every man must be permitted to approach the things of the spirit—whether of art or of religion—by the path that is familiar and beautiful to his feet.

Part Two

SOME CHARACTERISTIC INDIAN DANCE STEPS

BESIDES THE STEPS used in the complete dances or sections of dances described later, in Part Three, some characteristic Indian dance steps are herein analyzed. A few of these steps are compared, very briefly, with dance steps of some other races or nations; including that most highly developed and elaborate dance-art of the white race—the ballet, or “toe-dancing,” of (notably) Italy, France, and Russia; and, through widespread adoption, of other European countries and the United States. The ballet form, in the niceties of its crystallized, traditional technique and of its exquisite though often artificial movements, probably offers the most striking contrast of all to the more natural expression of Indian dance-art—a case of the cultured versus the primitive. Since, owing to the limitations of the human frame, only a moderate number of movements are possible to it, whatever the race or the condition, there will, naturally, be found points of similarity even in these two extremes. And more especially so because of the fact that the orthodox ballet bears, in line, posture, and movement, unmistakable evidence that it too had its remote origin in a freer, more natural “out-door” style of dance—that of the ancient Greeks.

It is by no means the object, in this short, fragmentary treatise, to do more than barely touch on such comparisons and analogies; and that, merely by way of suggesting that this phase of the subject might possibly prove worthy of research in the future. The present brief—even hasty—excursion into so large and uncultivated a field can do no more than break ground at a single point. Even this slight jaunt, however, serves to show that Indian dancing is a ...