“Do I dare disturb the universe?” T.S. Eliot
Most dictionaries define art as the production, by aesthetic principles, of that which is beautiful. Trust a dictionary to be so curt and clinical. If I were to provide a definition, I would say that art is the expression of the human psyche. Art may express beauty but there will be art that disturbs, or challenges, too. By ‘disturbing’ I don’t mean alarming or upsetting audiences, but confronting and inspiring them with new insights, innovation of form and pushing social parameters. A fundamental element in art – and not just art, but good art – is that it should challenge the viewer.
As dancers we are extremely privileged to be able to use our bodies like a brush on canvas, if you will, as our creative voice. When you consider that we don’t have the assistance of our voices, we’re challenged to articulate in a strong and coherent manner exactly what it is that we are aiming to convey. I have had the good fortune to dance some roles by choreographers whom I admire for their understanding of the human body and its limitations and expressive potential. These choreographers have dared to reinvent classical technique and their works have challenged their contemporaries – namely George Balanchine and Graeme Murphy. And so I couldn’t believe my luck when Wayne McGregor chose me as one of the dancers he wanted to work with for his piece Dyad 1929.
I watched a whole bunch of Wayne’s choreography on YouTube and loved the way he seemed to push the dancers’ bodies to almost distorted extremes. It’s a fascinating juxtaposition of raw, fleshy, primal with creature-like ethereality. When we stepped into the studio with him on the first day, I was sold from the word … well, his first words were “Hi everyone, I’m Wayne”, so let’s go with that. He shook each of our hands and learned our names, initiating the feeling that this creative process was to be a collaborative one. While Wayne was definitely in charge and demonstrating ideas for movements through his own sinewy, eloquent physique, and vocal cues (from wooooaaahhh to zzyyyuppp and all in between), he still responded to the way in which we interpreted his choreographic language. We would rarely leave the studio without a coat of sweat, and perhaps a little bit of a headache – possibly from dehydration, yes, but more likely because Wayne was challenging our minds.
Of course we have to challenge our minds as dancers – we are in the studio every day fine-tuning our bodies. But we also need to go beyond ballet technique and discover our body’s expressive capabilities, whether we’re preparing for an abstract contemporary piece or a classical story ballet. It is just that Wayne was asking us to explore our mental and physical capacity to the extreme and challenging our cognitive skills at the same time. It was an epiphany of sorts for me. I had discovered, in those weeks we worked with Wayne, muscles I had never been in tune with. I pushed my body to fill negative space like a broad brush painting oil on canvas – or a fine needlepoint etching – or the breath of an acrylic spray-can on a wall. This was the result of challenging my thought process, stepping back and asking my body questions and eking out really surprising answers. I guess, you could say, I was disturbing my body. This, I thought after one rehearsal, is what art is about.
And the discovery won’t end after the last rehearsal. It will continue with each show of Dyad 1929. The work is inspired by the enormously significant work of Sergei Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes’ as well as the exciting technological innovations of the period between 1909 and 1929. Wayne’s choreographic juxtaposition is consistent with honouring Diaghilev’s tradition of innovation, and presents a challenge not just for the dancers – especially classical dancers, using centuries-old technique to convey totally modern themes – but for a ballet audience as well.
Long may artistic innovators like George Balanchine, like Graeme Murphy, like Wayne McGregor, disturb the universe.
Concord opens this Wednesday 11 November, and runs until Monday 30 November.
Dear Juliet
I read your article in the programme to The Silver Rose. I didn’t realise it had been posted on Behind Ballet so long ago. I’m clearly behind the times!
Any way, I found it interesting, especially what you said about the definition of art. I occasionally wonder: what is art? I think it’s helpful to distinguish between art, entertainment and craft.
I entirely agree with you that art is the expression of the human psyche. True art taps into some inherent element of human existence and renders it in the world of visible or audible phenomena. For this reason, witnessing true art is engrossing and moving. True art is open to interpretation as we read it through the prism of our own experiences. As it appeals to something intrinsic, which we may not fully understand ourselves, we can feel moved without really understanding why. How often have you heard someone say about an abstract piece of art: “It just has some effect on me. I’m not sure why”?
Entertainment is different to art. “Mere entertainment” is something which is simply amusing or humorous. Entertainment doesn’t move us. It certainly can make us laugh but humour is not an inherent part of the human psyche. It’s something we “learn”. All humour is dependent on our “learnt” knowledge of manners and etiquette. That’s why some things are funny in one culture but not another and why it’s possible to not “get” a joke. If humour appealed to something universal, everyone would “get” the joke. But it doesn’t do this and that’s because it is not true art.
I think craft is the skill required to create art, entertainment or anything else. Not all craft creates true art. It may, however, create decorative art such as the things you find at a craft market. These are definitely the product of craft but I wouldn’t call a woven basket a piece of art (as pretty as it might be)! I think decorative art just aims to produce beauty. For that reason, the dictionary definition of art which you found – “the production, by aesthetic principles, of that which is beautiful” – sounds more like a definition of decorative art to me.
Moving on to Concord, I think it really showed the difference between art, entertainment and craft. (To digress for a moment, I totally loved Concord from start to finish, so much so, I saw it three times. Each of the three items on the programme was great for a different reason. Of the things I saw at the Australian Ballet in 2009, it was my favourite!) Clearly, immense amounts of craft were necessary to create Concord (craft of the dancers, the choreographers, the musicians, craft, craft, craft!). However, not all craft creates art. I would say that Por Vos Mueros and Dyad 1929 were definitely art. Both were really engrossing and moving. Although I’ve come up with some reasons for why I found them this way, I’m not entirely certain and probably never will be. The School of Ballet, however, was an entertainment. It created humour by playing on our learnt expectations of a stage mum, a lawyer and ballet. By saying School of Ballet was an entertainment, I don’t mean to belittle it. It was definitely as commendable as the other two productions and I certainly loved it, but it was clearly different.
Anyway, I think I’ve laboured on about semantics enough. Thanks again for your article. As the last few hundred words show, it was thought provoking. And keep up all that brilliant dancing!!
Peter