Joy in Motion

The Walking Wounded: Redeeming Expression and Connection

Reflections on musicality are constantly sifting through my mind, especially lately as I’ve been writing an article on compulsive listening that will be posted in the next week. Until then, I wanted to share a few excerpts from John Sloboda’s heavy but informative book, Exploring the Musical Mind: Cognition, Emotion, Ability, Function. His findings in the world of music are just as applicable in the world of dance.

Less Practice

“[We] found some surprising differences between the best and the average students in our sample. It turned out that the best students had done less formal practice in their early years than had the average students, and that their parents were less accomplished musically than the parents of the average children…”

This seems to turn on its head everything we are taught about skill acquisition since our youth. But just as there is a major difference between those who dance and those who dance well, there is also a qualitative difference between those who practice and those who practice well. Read on, because the point here is not that practice is unimportant – we all know that it is – but that the type and quality of practice we engage in makes an enormous difference.

More Play

“There is some indication that the best students did not spend less time on musical activity than their less able peers, but that they simply spent less time on formal task-oriented practice and more time on free exploration of the musical medium (improvisation, and other activities often pejoratively described by both children and parents as ‘messing about’). I can certainly remember from my own childhood that I would dispatch my lesson tasks in 10 minutes or so, and then spend hours ‘tinkering’ on my own projects, with the forbearance of my long-suffering parents, who none the less were often driven to enquire ‘what is that strange noise you are making: are you sure it is part of your practice?’”

The importance of play comes up again and again in all disciplines, from music and sports to arts and sciences. Most of us don’t think of play as practice, but in fact it is one of the most important types of practice you can engage in. Not only is your mind more open, but you are much more relaxed, allowing natural learning to take place. Our play times are not surprisingly when we get our best ideas and make our greatest discoveries. Dancers who play are more likely to have an organic relationship with the dance, meaning they express themselves naturally rather than repeating stock (meaning stale) patterns and styles that have been taught to them. They are also more likely to truly improvise in the dance rather than repeating pre-planned mini-routines without individual creativity.

Balancing Technique and Expression

“These initially unexpected results now make a lot of sense to me. One may suppose that, by and large, formal task-oriented practice encourages the development of technical rather than expressive skills, whereas exploratory and improvisatory activities encourage the individual’s expressive development. Successful musicians are those who have been able to achieve a proper balance between these two types of activity…”

So the point is not that one is more important than the other but that they complement each other to provide a holistic approach to the dance. We all know people in our lives who have great connection and charisma but lack the ability to think critically and make good choices, and others who have great intelligence but lack the ability to communicate and connect with people. The same applies to dance: Without technique, our dance is formless, preventing us from being able to communicate with others in the dance. Without expression, we may have knowledge but lack the ability to connect, rendering our knowledge meaningless.

The Walking Wounded

“Clearly, any one individual will have a mixture of the two types of motivation. There is some evidence, however, that a too early emphasis on achievement can inhibit intrinsic motivation. In simple terms, children become so concerned about what others may be thinking of their performance that they have little attention left to allow the potential of the music to engage their aesthetic and emotional sensibilities deeply. All music becomes a source of anxiety…

It seems that our society – particularly our system of formal education – is set up to produce a large number of musical ‘walking wounded’.”

I’m one of those dancers who have the habit of apologizing when they make a mistake. It’s a simple reflex now, but it comes from a deep-seated belief that perfection is expected of me, and that my mistakes result in displeasure for the other person. I have recovered from this belief to a great degree, but there are still remnants that plague me from time to time with great ferocity. I’m not the only one; there are quite a few of us who think and act as if there were an imaginary score card tracking our brilliances on one side and our blunders on the other, and oftentimes our state of mind depends on which side seems to be winning at the moment, not just in our eyes but in the eyes of others. This state of mind – even when it falls on the positive side of the score card – creates a results-based dance, one that is in direct conflict with a connection-based and music-based dance. In other words, true expression is impossible. And not just for ourselves: When we have these expectations of our dance partners, we close ourselves off from receiving what they have to offer, and from allowing them to receive our gifts as well.

Rehabilitating Our Emotional and Sensual Enjoyment

“What may be needed to remedy that is the rehabilitation of the notion that, in the sphere of music if nowhere else, deep emotional experiences and sensual enjoyment are as important and valid as hard work and technical achievement.”

Mari posed the following question in a recent post: “If I had to choose between being asked to dance because I was a skilled dancer, or because I was a kind dancer - which would I choose? (Obviously, I would like to be both - but if I had to choose.)”

For most dancers who choose to pursue greater technical achievement – even if it is for the purpose of greater connection – there is a constant struggle with the notion that our partners want to dance with us because of our technical prowess and not because of what the technical prowess allows us to experience together in terms of connection. Dancers who choose not to struggle (i.e., those who accept or even welcome technical prowess as the standard for themselves and their dance partners) sacrifice the soul of their dancing in the process, which is to say that embracing the struggle is a worthy task. Mari does just this in her post:

“Finally I came to a realization about myself and about what tango means to me. If I get danced as much as I do because I’m comfortable, or because I’m nice, or because I’m easy to please, or because, as my husband suggests, I giggle any time I dance to anything - then I think that is a good thing…

If I could only be one or the other, I would rather be kind.

Sometimes I think that can be the harder path to walk. The rules are fuzzier. The risks and vulnerability feel far greater. But the pay off is out of this world.”

Implications for Teaching

Although each individual has a great degree of control over their own learning process (greater than they typically realize) as well as their mental, emotional, and spiritual relationship with the music and the dance, the truth is that we are very social creatures who are deeply influenced - both consciously and subsconsciously - by those around us. Teachers are often emulated, if not looked up to, for their knowledge, skill, and style. This puts them in a unique position to model a relationship with dance that values connection and musicality as much, if not more than, technique and skill acquisition. Fostering a spirit of play and curiosity in classes and lessons is huge in promoting the type of learning Sloboda writes about. This doesn’t just happen through words and the selection of practice activities; it comes through living and breathing this attitude in all aspects of dance and the teaching/learning experience. It may seem big, and it is, but it is also absolutely true: Teaching transforms the teacher from the inside out, and this unfolding process promotes the same process in one’s students. Dancers may discover these gems on their own - and indeed they must - but instructors can become a positive part of this journey instead of an obstacle. The sad truth is that many dance teachers are among the walking wounded themselves. So it is extremely important for instructors to attend to their own dance lives as much as possible and to stay tuned in to their values in the dance and how they are being communicated (or not) to their students. 

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