LITMIR.BIZ

      Kwakiutl, Pacific Northwest Coast Kwakiutl tribe known for elaborate ceremonies often involving dance

      “Dancing to restore an eclipsed moon” (Nov. 13, 1914)

      Photograph by Edward S. Curtis (1868–1952)

       Library of Congress, Prints & Photographs Division, Edward S. Curtis Collection, LC-USZ62-73627

      Within a career, there are times when looking back allows you to move forward. Certain aspects of dancing emerge through your unique self, and some come from the collective currents of your time and perspective on other eras. All are relevant in dancing and dance making. Although research can seem intimidating when you are creating your own work, history is an essential component of a rich and dimensional art form. Finding time to investigate this domain can activate your imagination—and create excitement about the broad scope of your field.

      Dance, as the mother of all art forms, has been central to human experience since Homo sapiens stood on two feet and discovered the agility required by that unstable stance. Our look at this 125,000-year history begins on American soil. Native peoples and their dances arrived on the North American continent about 12,000–30,000 years ago. From the 1600s on, immigrant dance forms from every continent and culture added new dimensions to the indigenous lineage. European, African, and Asian styles and traditions intersected through ballet, jazz, tap, Afro-Caribbean dance, martial arts, and other distinct global forms, inspiring popular culture and dance culture. The weave of what became modern dance continues on a mercurial path to the dance you are making—your own contemporary work.

       Considering Twentieth-Century Modern Dance in the United States

      One way to view dance history as an art maker is to look at the various images of what it means to be human, as reflected in different cultural contexts, movement styles, and individuals.¹ Within the limited frame of contemporary modern dance in the United States, your focus (interests and sympathies) will reveal values and interconnections across place and time. For example, starting with a study of Denishawn, you’ll find a tour in Asia. If you begin with George Balanchine, you’ll trace a ballet heritage from Italy, to France, and to Russia before arriving in the United States. If you look at the footwork of Fred Astaire, Sandman Sims, or Brenda Buffalino, you’ll be amid the drumbeats and dances of Africa and the cloggers of Europe. History interweaves with the present moment—it’s inherently interdisciplinary, global, and revealing.

      Loie Fuller (1902)

      Photograph by Frederick W. Glasier (1866–1950) Black-and-white, copy from glass plate negative, 8 x 10 in., Negative No. 638

       Collection of the John and Mable Ringling Museum of Art Archives

      Then you might ask, What’s been left out of research and historical record? Not from political correctness or to disparage yourself, but to consider what an opportunity there is to enrich the story—to host an expanded conversation. Often it’s native traditions, people of color, and women. But change the lens that determines how you view any time period, and you find a distinct perspective. For example, you can reflect on dance in the United States from a regional rather than a New York City–centric perspective; through gender, culture, race, class, and age; via various academic disciplines; or through your own unique interests and affinities. From neuroscience to anthropology, all fields of study partner with dance in the unfolding understanding of what it means to be human on this planet.

      This chapter is not a comprehensive study; it’s an invitation. There’s a danger in listing names and describing political and social movements: artists are left out. Yet researching just one will lead you to many others, including the matrix of elegant performers, composers, and designers who shape the theater experience. Remembering that what was once “cutting edge” in modern dance becomes classical as it is sustained and passed on through time, you can view some of the styles and forms still with us today. Note that artists’ lives and work span decades—Martha Graham and Merce Cunningham each left more than seventy years of dance making. When you see announcements of workshops, auditions, and performances, there’s a lineage you can trace, a web of connections to investigate.

      To engage historical perspective, look around. Read papers, books, and dance journals, and go to concerts. Check online sources for any of the artists listed in this book, and see where the search takes you. There’s much more than is on these pages.

       The true dance must be the transmission of the Earth’s energy through the body.

      —Isadora Duncan

      Isadora Duncan

       Photograph © Edward Steichen (1921)

      At the turn of the twentieth century, three daring women were moving issues of dress reform and women’s rights forward through dance. Loie Fuller was known for her pioneering investigations with lighting effects and fabric, at the advent of electricity. Isadora Duncan danced barefoot and adopted the Greek tunic for expressive dancing, with movement motivated by impulses emanating spontaneously from the solar plexus. And Ruth St. Denis was an advocate of health, spirituality, and all things “Oriental.” These innovators demonstrated women’s inner independence and went to Europe for affirmation. Extolling the body as a source of inspiration, they captivated thousands of viewers in the United States and abroad, changing the course of dancing.²

      The Paris Exposition of 1900 featured Fuller performing her Danses Lumineuses at the Art Nouveau Theatre

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