Volume 1
Edição nº 11
2011
Seção EM PAUTA

Artigo 4

Why dance? Six questions regarding an art form which doesn't belong to us

Arnd Wesemann

Tradução: Luiza Banov


If you are interested in choreography,

there are four ways to see it. First, in the theatre. Here, dance is sometimes shown in its own right, sometimes along with opera, operetta or musicals. It has its own royalty, like Pina Bausch, who invented dance-theatre out of the mere situation of dancing in the theatre. Then there is dance that wants to be seen as art; this sometimes means that there is no dancing in contemporary dance,instead it is termed performance. In this way, dance approaches art and work – as an accomplishment or performance of a task. It is in this sense that dance can be regarded as sporting competition, something which forms the basis of careers in ballet just as it fires the battles in break dance and appears as the ‘final selection’ of candidates in TV shows where, like in ice dancing, there are only winners and losers. Finally, everyone has at least heard of the fact that dance can simply be danced, like at a party. If no one dances at a party, it’s a miserable party. But what’s really miserable is that our culture supports competition, performance and the theatre, but parties belong to a completely different culture. Being the opposite of work (competition, performance, representation), they no longer have any status.

A festa não possui status

Ela custa dinheiro, demanda responsabilidade por parte dos convidados, pode ser consumida, pela razão de ser uma resposta ao consumo. A festa é a contrapartida de um presente – eu lhe presenteio você me dá uma festa. Eu faço algum tipo de sacrifício, você me ajuda em um jogo, uma dança, uma refeição, um drink, um novo conhecimento. Isto é muito maior que meu pequeno sacrifício; um buque de flores ou qualquer outro gesto com o qual eu possa aparecer. Você precisa superar meu presente porque é seu aniversário. A festa pode custar mais que a bicicleta com a qual você foi presenteado. Absurdo. Porque tal festa deve ser considerada cultura? Especialmente, uma vez que a festa foi há tempos recolocada por outra cultura, a do teatro, do filme – uma cultura razoável que fazia um dinheiro razoável. Cultura atualmente, no sentido da palavra, adiciona uma troca justa em favor da cultura: gaste seu dinheiro em educação e entretenimento para ser educado e entretido (como necessário). Isto é exatamente o que uma festa não pode fazer. E isto é o porquê que saber como celebrar com uma festa – como estar atento aos amigos das festas e gostar de sua companhia - não faz parte do nosso conceito de cultura.

The party has no status

It costs money, demands responsibility on the part of those invited and it can’t be consumed, for the very reason that it is a response to consumption. The party is the counterpart to the gift. I bestow you with a gift, you give me a party. I make some kind of sacrifice, you help me to a game, a dance, a meal, a drink, a new acquaintance. That is a great deal more than my small sacrifice; a bunch of flowers or whatever other gesture I may come up with. You have to outdo my present because it’s your birthday. The party may cost more than the bicycle you were given. Absurd. Why should such a party be considered culture? Especially since the party was long ago replaced by another culture of theatre and film – a reasonable culture making reasonable money. Culture in today’s sense of the word amounts to a fair exchange in culture’s favour: spend your money on education and entertainment in order to be educated and entertained (as necessary). That is exactly what a party cannot do. And that’s why knowing how to celebrate with a party – how to be attentive towards fellow party-goers and enjoy their company – is not part of our concept of culture.

A culture of knowledge

is today’s motto. This idea indirectly assumes that there must be a culture that knows nothing or little. The carnival, for example: What does it know? Who does it educate? Or dance, which is often made out to be dumb because it is wordless. But it is dance, not the carnival, which has been chosen by arts politics to be the bearer of knowledge; the knowledge of how to dance. Because dance, whether as ballet lessons, in elementary schools or the infamous coming-of-age ballroom dance class, contains something which has dutifully survived the centuries: the mastery of steps. Dance is not hopping around at a child’s birthday party, not warming up the kids for a celebration, not the choreography of a series of new games until the brood collapses in happy exhaustion. It is the rational control of one’s body which, when a certain level of expertise is reached, may even be shown in the theatre the institution, that rationally preserves knowledge in living bodies, while the carnival and dance parties were released from our cultural heritage and handed over to their sponsors. And so the party's become increasingly private and dance is more and more publicly funded. A wedge has been driven between two things that once belonged together: between dance and the party, between art and the party, even between the public and their party.

Performance

is the key. As the party has been completely privatized and theatre placed entirely in the hands of the public, truly private theatres are as rare as parties that are independent of their sponsors’ will. There is a practical reason for this. Take a child’s birthday: the parents have to perform well themselves, or, instead of a party, they treat themselves and the children to a little bit of the culture that performs. This is misleadingly termed ˝middle-class culture˝, even though the middle classes only see the performance on stage that they themselves refuse to perform. In fact, theatre culture allows the middle classes to remain outside their own culture, which they promptly mistake for art. They want a show that they have paid to see to be foreign, exotic, something ˝different˝… but certainly not interfere with their world. The romantic ballet of a distant past, the alien culture of hip hop, a show by Irish tap dancers, all speak to them of worlds that they cannot inhabit, because they lack the body needed to dance like those on stage. They admire that. This type of entertainment was given a name in the 1990s by Austrian philosopher Robert Pfaller, ˝interpassivity˝: ˝I don’t dance; I let people dance.˝ At a real middle-class party that would be impossible.

The middle class consumer

says: ˝So what?˝ His party is now his theatre. Even better than that: he can finally leave his previously active role in the party up to a representative, a dancer or actor on his stage. The theatre is supported and, in return, he demands to see what he wants. Or not, since he is no longer bound to the tradition of dealing with this considerable expenditure himself; having to invest in a wooden castle, getting new costumes for his progeny and serving up food and drink. Now, by contrast, he is the book-keeper who sees this theatre with the same detachedness that he sees his own business: as a profit-making operation with hired representatives of his labors lost, now no longer forced to sing, play and dance himself. He no longer needs to be able to. It even appeals to him to spare himself this culture completely, which he has left to the city council and its accounting department because he no longer celebrates it. He prefers to celebrate his defeats on the sports field, mourning the misfortunes of his team and making a party out of every point scored. In the game, he rediscovers what he lost in the theatre: his own participation in the spectacle.

TBlanked out

is what the audience member is - banished to an almost extraterrestrial position. His deep belief in the stage’s edge causes him to retreat. An invisible border is drawn, even in front of the smallest stages. Even in the front row, where the audience huddles right by the dancers’ feet, the rule applies: not a step further. The stage area is holy. This imaginary border, the stage’s frame, separates everything that goes together at a party. A place not unlike an altar or pulpit is created, which neatly divides up the space and, instead of enabling true participation, i.e. physical participation, wants to create a thinkable reality only, with controlled emotions. What else is the audience supposed to do there, other than think to itself? Theatre immobilizes the body while the bodies that are still moving, on stage, embody something else – very much in the sense of ˝under–standing˝. In other words, not standing. Dancing. After all.


Arnd Wesemann, nascido em 1961 é editor da revista "tanz"[3]. em Berlim/Alemanha. Depois de concluir seus estudos em Jornalismo, escreveu uma monografia sobre o artista avantgardista de Flandres Jan Fabre. É entusiasmado com as novas mídias e suas relações com o corpo; e atualmente tem dúvidas se a dança deve ter suas origens no teatro.


Outros links úteis

Revista Tanz
“cultura de classe-média”
Robert Pfaller, “interpassividade”
No jogo, ele redescobre o que ele perdeu no teatro: sua própria participação no espetáculo.


Data de Recebimento:
15 de outubro de 2011
Data de Aceite:
30 de novembro de 2011
Data de Publicação:
25 de dezembro de 2011