The Bloomsbury Handbook of Dance and Philosophy

• Publisher: Bloomsbury Academic
• Year: 2021
• ISBN:
  9781350103481
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Filosofia
• Subtopic: Storia e teoria della filosofia

An innovative examination of the ways in which dance and philosophy inform each other, Dance and Philosophy brings together authorities from a variety of disciplines to expand our understanding of dance and dance scholarship. Featuring an eclectic mix of materials from exposes to dance therapy sessions to demonstrations, Dance and Philosophy addresses centuries of scholarship, dance practice, the impacts of technological and social change, politics, cultural diversity and performance. Structured thematically to draw out the connection between different perspectives, this books covers: - Philosophy practice and how it corresponds to dance
- Movement, embodiment and temporality
- Philosophy and dance traditions in everyday life
- The intersection between dance and technology
- Critical reflections on dance Offering important contributions to our understanding of dance as well as expanding the study of philosophy, this book is key to sparking new conversations concerning the philosophy of dance.

PART ONE

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Philosophical Practice as a Dancing Matter

CHAPTER 1.1

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Introduction: Presenting an Engagement of Philosophy and Dance

JULIE C. VAN CAMP

Philosophy, at least stereotypically, is all about ethereal abstractions of the mind. How can it meaningfully engage the physicality of dance and the dancing body? How can we move past the unfortunate history of the dualism of body and mind to reorient and integrate our appreciation of both? How can we recognize the many different ways of “doing philosophy” to challenge settled perspectives? This challenge opens several avenues for engagement, all at least promising, if not equally fruitful.

Could our intellectual explorations of space, time, and movement benefit from encounters with physicality in these elusive dimensions? Integrating movement practices with ideas of all kinds engages Kristopher G. Phillips and Megan Brunsvold Mercedes in “Teaching Dance and Philosophy to Non-Majors: The Integration of Movement Practices and Thought Experiments to Articulate Big Ideas.” They do not flinch from the special challenge of teaching students who are neither philosophy nor dance majors. Interdisciplinarity is well-established in higher education but these experiments push through boundaries most have not considered. Although movement exercises might seem obvious for exploring space and time, the authors wanted students to understand how movement can yield meaning. Readings from everyone from Maxine Sheets-Johnstone to René Descartes helped and a variety of teaching techniques was explored, from journals and papers to student-led seminars. Although the luxury of team-taught courses is not enjoyed by everyone, the variety of techniques should inspire everyone who works with students of any and all varieties.

The duality of mind and body, which we attribute to René Descartes in the seventeenth century, has been challenged from many spheres. Dualism comes in many forms. It might be a simple claim that mind and body are separate “things,” which forces consideration of what kind of “things” they are. Dualism might more strongly claim that mind controls the body. Then we must wonder how that is possible, especially if they are different kinds of things. Dualism asks how the two could interrelate.¹

While philosophers have often been criticized for seemingly obsessing about these old dilemmas, it is philosophers of all kinds who have led the charge in critiquing these traditional views. Feminist Susan Bordo, for example, has critiqued Western civilization’s misunderstandings and manipulation of notions of the female body.² Maxine Sheets-Johnstone since the 1960s has used the phenomenological work of Merleau-Ponty to critique the traditional Cartesian dualism.³ Much-cited in dance studies ever since, these views have seemed to sharpen the exasperating divide between analytic and other approaches to philosophy, which we will consider later.

Dance philosopher Anna Pakes, working soundly in an analytic tradition, has tackled the mind–body disputes in dance head-on.⁴ She notes that much of the dismissal by dance studies specialists of Cartesian dualism is founded on misunderstandings of Descartes’ project. And for over half a century, philosophers have themselves rejected dualism, moving instead to materialism or physicalism. So the sometimes haughty disdain heard in dance studies circles toward analytic philosophy is based, in significant measure, on a strawman. There are enormous challenges, to be sure, in understanding how our cognitive abilities control or relate to our physical bodies and movements. But drawing on a wide range of proposals to understand that relationship, rather than falling back on stereotypes that no one defends any more—and have not for a long time—seems the better direction for exploration of shared challenges.

The hostility to mind–body dualism in dance studies seems to have another genesis, one that seems, in fact, justified. Dance departments in the academy have for too long been seen as step-children of the other departments in the arts and the humanities. Typically relegated to physical education departments, more “intellectual” types on campus saw dance as mainly a form of exercise, not as an art form to be studied as seriously as music or painting or literature.⁵ Dance as a field of study included historians, critics, theorists, and, yes, some philosophers, yet it had to fight for recognition in the academic universe. Is it any wonder that dancers resented the “eggheads” in other disciplinary studies, perhaps most notably the philosophers who so originated the dualism and now so smugly think they are the only ones with analyses worth considering.

As “interdisciplinarity” in all its shapes and sizes has taken hold in the academy, so has it enriched and broadened philosophical dialogue. A wealth of work in related areas, even within philosophy, can enrich our explorations of many questions. Action theory and value theory bring insights to the art form in Graham McFee’s “Dance, Normativity, and Action” in this volume. His chapter builds on his important work over several decades and many books. Notably, his most recent book, Dance and the Philosophy of Action (2018) is an extended consideration of the insights into dance that can be brought from action theory. The contribution here gives us a good introduction to this venture. Indeed, for those not familiar with his several books on philosophy of dance, this is a good overview of important concepts developed in more detail elsewhere. McFee’s work is rich with specific examples from dance to illustrate his arguments and test their explanatory power. He is also conversant with important work by such philosophers as Arthur Danto and Ludwig Wittgenstein to develop a better understanding of meaning in dance artworks.

Elsewhere, McFee has published extensively on sport, as well as dance. This wide range of movement helps us to step back from the art form and see connective tissue in varieties of movement. Many have observed the similarities between the dance art of the theater, on the one hand, and, on the other, figure skating and gymnastic routines. Modern dance pioneers are reputed to have wondered if they would be better off reviewed by sports writers than music critics, for they at least understood movement, and McFee’s work underscores those family relationships, which can be approached from many perspectives. We might focus on descriptions of movements using words that capture a sense of what they looked like. Explicating the motivations for generating different types of movement provide alternative insights into related phenomenon. Evaluation standards seem notably different for competitive sports and dance, but drawing out those differences also is worthwhile. Height, speed, originality, and control, for example, all seem like criteria that might emerge in evaluating many forms of movement. McFee’s work is an advanced consideration of issues in related movements and movement theories, enhancing our understanding of all. His careful articulation and identification of the elements of movement in many circumstances illustrates what we today consider “analytic” philosophy, which is another way of stressing clarity and good critical thinking, about which we will say more later.

In my chapter, “What is Mark Morris’ ‘Choreomusicality,’” I consider what aesthetics and philosophy have to offer to our understanding of dance. Philosophers routinely work with meta-domains, for example philosophy of religion, of art, of science, of mathematics, of mind, and on and on. We step back from an ongoing enterprise in the world around us and ask questions about it. What are its methods? Its logic? Vocabularies? Assumptions? Standards for success? How does it relate to other areas of human life? Many practitioners in these domains “think philosophically” from time to time, some more than others, and that is fine.

To give this long-standing question in dance focus, I explore the work of one of the most philosophical and musically inclined choreographers working today, Mark Morris. Of special interest is his concept of “choreomusicality,” a distinctive element of his work regarding the relationship of movement and music. Dance lovers are familiar with Balanchine’s famous dictum, “See the Music, Hear the Dance.” I consider how Morris has pushed the envelope on this relationship between music and movement and the many philosophical issues this presents. Philosophers are particularly good at asking questions and resisting the idea that there must be a unified “right” answer, so I have focused on the questions Morris triggers, in hope it stimulates more dialogue and thought.

(1) The “essence” of dance: In particular, what is the necessity and relationship of movement and music, given Morris’ claim that music is primary? Are dances without music (such as Jerome Robbins’ “Moves”) no longer to count as dance? Must we keep looking for an “essence” of dance or could we shift to a more Wittgensteinian sense of the intertwined rope in which no single element is a necessary and sufficient condition? The endless search for an essence typically boils down to human movement, almost always with some relationship to music. Morris reverses that, which presents us anew with the problem.

(2) The centrality of human movement: Given Morris’ insistence that dance is merely his homage to music, should music always be primary in creativity? Are dances better when made to existing masterpieces in music? Or instead when the music is commissioned specifically for a particular choreographer or dancer? How is this different from Balanchine’s dictum, or is it? Balanchine emphasized the interdependence of music and movement, but he never went so far as to say the movement is subservient to the music.

(3) Terminology: What is “choreomusicality”? How is it different from “music visualization,” a notion from Ruth St. Denis a century ago? Precisely what do these terms mean, whether in his work or that of others? How is Morris’ concept similar to and different from earlier notions of the relationship of music and dance? Is this different from the senses understood by Balanchine, the early modern choreographers, and post-modern choreographers like Merce Cunningham?

(4) The significance of metakinesis: The legendary New York Times critic John Martin introduced this notion, reinvigorated by contemporary work on cognitive science. Do audience members feel the movement themselves? Are they better at this if they themselves have performed as dancers? Morris provides a new angle on this dialogue, namely, the relevance of the experience of performing music to our appreciation of dance performances. Is someone who has the experience of playing a musical instrument, alone or in a band or orchestra, better equipped to appreciate the music in a dance performance? Are there different ways to appreciate both movement and music, perhaps equally valid, but different?

(5) Dancing philosophy: A recurring topic among dance theorists is whether and how movement and music can constitute “philosophy.” Morris challenges us in several explicit appeals to philosophy. Can non-verbal art forms of music and movement present hypotheses, arguments, analysis, conclusions? Are we using those terms only metaphorically? It seems quite extreme to say that the movement and music is philosophy. Certainly we can think and reason philosophically about movement and music, but it seems too much of a stretch of the word “philosophy” to equate them. And if we make that stretch, which some seem to want to do, what have we accomplished? We seem to have lost something in recognizing the myriad of ways in which we come to “understand” our world.

(6) The Intentional Fallacy: Just when you thought this was dead and buried, Morris seems to agree with this well-known claim that the intentions of the author are irrelevant in determining the meaning of a work.⁶ This topic is endlessly worth considering. As writers, theorists, philosophers, and appreciators of dance, knowing what the creator was thinking or intending can give us ideas we might consider in our own appreciation...