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Small reflections on 2020

2020 has been bizarre, uncertain, full of change, and difficult for so many. My dancing feels inconsequential among all this.

Nonetheless, this year has taught me some things about myself and my relationship to movement and the world. My journey through dance has continued and my ideas have evolved somewhat. I think that’s worth noting, at least for myself.

So here are a few small reflections to close out this strange year.

1. Isolation, energy, and further thoughts

I have been surprised to discover that I, an introvert, not only miss social activity, but feel worn down by its lack. Nowadays, I’m most awake when chatting with friends on a video call, or even just sharing an elevator with a neighbour. Of course I’m familiar with the thrill of a live audience – the rush that enlivens the limbs – but I never thought to connect this to the ways energy is produced and sustained in quotidian movement and social performance – the way a face twitches, tenses, lights up – involuntarily energized -, for example, in the presence of another human being. I realize now that we draw energy from one another, not only when performing, but in everyday life. I am so curious about the nature of that energy, and what it might say about how dance relates to other social acts.

2. Dance is the thing that feels like being alive

The global shift to digital modes of performance, practice, and instruction has left me thinking a lot about what counts as dance. Having watched performances online and even choreographed a piece for livestream, I have clarified that, for me, dance is so much more than a visual medium. What feels like dance to me (whether as performer or as spectator) reverberates in the body – the music and energy is immersive – an experience that is a challenge to replicate through image alone. What feels like dance to me is something more immediate.

Of course, this definition is very personal, defined through my lived experiences as an able-bodied woman. Perhaps a definition that might better fit across various experiences is: dance is the thing that makes your body and heart feel charged, buzzing, and alive.

3. Practice makes peace

It’s been interesting to see how people have managed with the built up tensions of Covid-19. Lots of people turned to baking. Others took up gardening. I did a bit of both – and like many other dancers, I found special comfort in fostering a practice of fundamentals – daily stretching, basic technique and choreography classes, running drills of the first 12 steps of Kandyan dance… There’s often so much pressure to progress and produce new things; this year helped me discover the joy and peace of practice for its own sake, something I want to carry forward.

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Mirror, mirror, on the studio wall

I’ve been taking online classes recently, in a variety of unfamiliar styles, from the comfort of my living room. A friend remarked that he’s surprised at how I manage to learn so well without a mirror – his surprise surprised me. I never used dance mirrors growing up: all my formative training took place at home, in community spaces, and on the stage; I didn’t step into a “fully equipped studio” until I was 19. This isn’t special or uncommon either. Plenty of dancers primarily learn and practice outside of studios, proving the case that a mirror is not necessary for dance.

So I’ve been thinking about this mode of learning, as well as the general history of Sri Lankan dance education, against the ubiquity of mirrors in dance studios. Mirrors are so central to “professional” training now, particularly in the European classical tradition, but increasingly in other contexts as well. According to Sally Raddell, since their emergence in ballet training of the 18th century, mirrors in dance studios have become the “primary mode of information gathering.”

In contrast, traditional Sinhalese dance training favoured, I would argue, non-visual modes of self-awareness. Our traditions speak of daeka purudda, aaha purudda, kara purudda (“habits of seeing, hearing, doing”) – a pedagogy emphasizing practice, muscle memory, and embodiment, rather than visual ideals. Susan Reed, writing on how traditional Sinhalese dance is taught through demonstration, calls this “knowledge transmission based primarily on mimesis” – but the concept of imitation centralizes the idea of the image. To shift that focus, I would add that, given an absence of large mirrors in Sinhalese villages, traditional dance education involved imitation without visual self-verification. Having only the body as its own reference, dancers would have to rely on internalized modes of immediate feedback and self-verification to effectively see themselves without actually seeing themselves; they would need to focus on developing an attention to the spatial positioning of moving bodies (developed through kara purudda) in relation to temporal rhythms (developed through aaha purudda).

Kinesthetics calls this kind of non-visual, bodily self-awareness proprioception. Raddell considers this “felt understanding of exactly where one’s body is and what it is doing” a “critical ingredient to being [an]…expressive dancer,” and notes that mirrors may delay its development: “The image students see…in the mirror and the feedback it provides can frequently overpower the kinesthetic feedback students feel in their bodies and must learn to interpret.” She quotes Montero here: “a trained dancer often trusts proprioception more than vision.” I’m reminded that every time I perform, I do so without glasses, frequently in unfamiliar spaces, with the worst eyesight of anyone I personally know. The term proprioception is new to me, but the concept of this “sixth sense” feels true to my experiences.

I’m finding that both the teaching and performance of Sri Lankan dance nowadays have, for myriad reasons, moved towards a greater emphasis on aspects of line, form, precision, as if the ideal of dance is primarily visual. The purpose of this post is not at all to knock mirrors as aids in dance practice, but to promote and explore other traditional modes of learning, understanding, and interpreting movement which do not privilege sight over other senses.

Sources

Raddell, Sally. “Mirrors in the Dance Class: Help or Hindrance?” IADMS.

Reed, Susan. “Women and Kandyan Dance: Negotiating Gender and Tradition in Sri Lanka.”