We're Not Fooling Anyone

On a recent vacation I was introduced to a friend's new beau.  He lives in NYC, dates a modern dancer, and runs with a group of artists. He has seen his share of dance.

One evening after a few drinks, during a conversation about his girlfriend's recent project, he confessed something that had been bothering him: dance-runs look ridiculous.  "You all do it," he continued. "And you look so snobby." He demonstrated, prancing across the wide kitchen with arms reaching towards the ground and chin lifted to the sky.  "Snobs."

I was shocked. I had heard much criticism over the years from modern dance patrons who offered feedback ranging from "it was too weird" to "can't the dancers point their feet?".  But this was new, and I laughed hard at this honest observation and my own participation in the dance-run phenomenon.

Considering my recent hypotheticals I couldn't help but apply the following questions: why do we, as dance artists, do what we do and who are we doing it for? And as it applies to this post, why would I choose to direct a mover from point A to point B by instructing them to run, jog, prance, trot, sprint, or scamper if I could create unique movement. (I am, of course, omitting any choice to do so that directly supports the choreographic theme. Let's be honest: the use of running as movement vocabulary is not always relevant or meaningful.)

My most recent work used running as a means to exhaust the dancers, a deliberate choice thought to successfully communicate the message.  (I'll leave it to the audience to measure that success.)  But I can easily bring to mind a handful of dances I've created since undergrad that used dance-runs as filler.  Not sure how to get Dancer #1 off stage? Run. Need to find a transition from one piece of music to the next? Run. We've all done it. And perhaps some of us have even escaped without any viewer having noticed we copped out. 

And so the boyfriend's review stuck with me. Not only was he on to us, he labeled the choice self-serving and transparent. Oops.

As I begin planning my next project, then, I'll not only consider how my choices will be perceived by the audience, I will also assume any attempts to mask my indecision will not go unnoticed.