On Demand
Critiquing the Critics
By Claudia La Rocco
July 1, 2008
As I mentioned earlier, last week I spent a couple of days down in Durham, N.C., leading a workshop during the NEA’a annual three-week seminar on dance criticism for select writers from around the country. There were 12 fellows this year, including three from Colombia.
My assignment to them was to approach the review as art, with the hope of elevating the writing, freeing people from their habits and reminding that, yes Virginia, criticism is an art form, too. It could be 500 words or less, and as creative as they wanted it to be, including drawings, literary devices commonly reserved for poetry, multiple choice inserts - whatever they could come up with. I gave them this review of mine as one of the examples, along with some terrific experimental pieces from a class I taught earlier this year.
I was thrilled, in general, with their responses, including the following take on Maguy Marin’s devastating dance “Umwelt” by Andrés Zambrano, the culture editor of the Colombian paper El Tiempo. Here is a clip of the dance:
And here is the response it drew from Andrés:
“They can’t dance…”
They can’t dance because they are in love
They can’t dance because they have to work
They can’t dance because they have to hit their friends
They can’t dance because they have to throw out the garbage
They can’t dance because they have to eat
They can’t dance because they have to shout
They can’t dance because they have to get undressed
They can’t dance because they are destroying the world
They can’t dance because the music is noise
But Maguy Marin changes this routine in a mantra
And a mantra is music
so
They dance while they are in love
They dance while they work
They dance while they hit their friends
They dance while they throw out the garbage
They dance while they eat
They dance while they shout
They dance while they get undressed
They dance while they are destroying the world
So
They dance because the noise is a kind of music
We talked about a few changes he might make to the structure (I thought it would be stronger to lose the final “So” and end with the penultimate sentence, other people had their own suggestions), but what a glorious piece of criticism! The merciless little hinge contained in “so”! The writing remains beautifully simple and clear, yet does such complex things -I find that, often, one of the biggest mistakes writers make is to equate unwieldy, vague, faux-poetic, overly complex sentences with complex thought. Usually it’s the opposite.
And, most importantly, the review is art in itself, without ever losing sight of the fact that it exists in relationship to another piece of art, Marin’s “Umwelt.” How heavenly it would be to open a paper and see something like this - Andrés was quick to say that this wouldn’t fly in El Tiempo, and of course it wouldn’t work in most mainstream American newspapers, either. But the idea behind the assignment is that it would allow these critics to apply the same ideas to more orthodox formats of criticism - which, after all, is an art form in hiding, lurking inside the loud, fast, no-nonsense world of journalism.
Critics are beset by anxieties these days - fewer readers, less space, lower prominence - and there is a sense of circling the wagons, of writing for a small group of insiders because no one else understands or cares. Too often, sadly, the result of these anxieties is writing that no one should care about - it is dry, tight, humorless, mired in the unimportant details and written in denial of the existence of a world beyond the particular art form it addresses.
And, of course, there is an immense, vibrant audience for art today, as is everywhere revealed in the blogosphere. But, in the end, would it matter if there weren’t such an audience? I don’t think so.
I’ve been reading John Yau’s wonderful book, “The Passionate Spectator: Essays on Art and Poetry,” and I read his concluding paragraph from an essay on the poet Frank O’Hara’s art criticism to some of the fellows. Says it all, I think - both about the importance of art, and about what critics should have swimming through their brains at all times:
“For O’Hara, art is a catalyst to, as well as a crucial component of, our understanding of the “living situation.” It is never about technique or high and low. It is never meant to be a form of entertainment or a distraction. Whether is it accepted or understood by mainstream culture or not is of little importance. And yet, instead of becoming discouraged or cynical about art’s impotence, O’Hara believed that art is always about culture, and its constant formation; at its best, it reveals something about ourselves that we might not necessarily want to see, much less know. It is up to us to experience art, to engage and believe in its power.”
Andrés’ review is a good reminder of these sentiments, which seem obvious, I suppose, but are easy to forget. In the daily slog of deadlines and revisions and meetings, critics can lose sight of what a luxurious job we have, and how important it is to always, in the face of such luxury, be generous in our ideas and opinions.
And now .. back to New York. Why would a critic be anywhere else?
Comments
Comment from Claudia La Rocco
Date: July 1, 2008, 3:27 pm
so … I just re-read this post. Could I possibly have said that criticism is art any more times than I did? Lordy.
Where was my editor??! Oh, yeah. Welcome to blogging, Claudia …
Comment from Martha
Date: July 7, 2008, 7:55 am
(A three week seminar on dance criticism — how lucky for them!) I loved Andres’s review/art — it made me even sorrier to have missed the Marin piece! It struck me that although the video clip intrigued, Andres’s “review” compelled me more to see the work. The opposite of criticism as art, for me, is criticism as Received Wisdom. (I resent that even more than dry, tight, anxious criticism.)
As lines get crossed all over the place (criticism and art being an important one), I have another line-crossing question for you. I recently chanced upon the last half hour of of tino sehgal’s “Kiss” at MoMA… so, Claudia, (drum roll…) what, if anything, do you think of as the difference between Performance Art and Dance?
I had missed The Kiss when it was performed in April, but a friend who works at MoMA was able to tip me off about this second viewing, which arrived without fanfare of public notice.
The performers (dancers, to my mind), in simple dark pants, white t-shirts, canvas shoes, languorously kissed for two hours, moving through poses suggested by great art. I’m not sure whether there was more than one pattern earlier in the performance, but in the half hour I watched, they cycled three times through an identifiable choreography. One of my marks for the repetition was a pose I knew I recognized — Brancusi’s Kiss (their bodies and lips deeply pressed, a straight architectural line, smooth as that stone, their knees on the ground, foreshortening them and focusing our eyes on their heads and wound arms). The movement of the entire piece was continual, mesmerizing, erotic (when I asked the ticket salesperson where in the museum it was being performed, she at first wasn’t sure what I meant — then realized and said “The thing in the Atrium? Yeah, some parents were complaining”.)
Yes, I should have recognized more of the poses. I think I caught the head and arm of Venus over her shoulder touching lips with Cupid, a la Bronzino. And the haunted slow dance that might have been from Hopper, if any of his characters ever touched. But even when I was unsure of the visual art being evoked, I was watching undeniably choreographed (and beautifully enacted) movement, a long undulating through-the-ages utterly contemporary Kiss.
So isn’t this all Dance? The message I’d gotten from my friend indicated that some of MoMA’s acquisition group were watching, considering acquiring this “piece”. I’d like it if the museums collected (supported!) dance for us (I think I read that works by tino sehgal are already collected in other international museums). But how do they decide what they consider “collectible art”, and when it is dance movement?
So — Criticism as Art, Performance Art as Dance? I have a feeling O’Hara would scoff at the labels (that it doesn’t matter as long as we experience, engage, believe.) I wish it didn’t matter, but it seems that what is labeled is “collected” and supported in this culture.
Comment from Claudia La Rocco
Date: July 7, 2008, 5:33 pm
Drum roll, indeed! Yikes, Martha, you’ve brought up a host of interesting and impossible to answer questions.
My rambling response, in no particular order:
Received Wisdom is The Worst.
Your writing about this Kiss, whatever it was, is gorgeous - now I’m the one who is sorry to have missed something (the tyrannies of a culturally vibrant city). I’m thinking of all the kisses I know from paintings and sculptures, and how they would be rendered by live performers. How delicious. And perfect that the receptionist would only know it as the piece that irritated parents. Sheesh.
O’Hara would scoff, and rightly so, but you’re also right that labels and categories matter a great deal. They matter when artists are trying to figure out which grants to apply to, and how to box in their work. They matter when newspapers decide how to cover a performance, everything from which critic will be sent to where the listing will appear to whether the work will be understood in the appropriate context. They matter when it comes to marketing. They matter when it comes to which audiences (New York audiences being ridiculously segregated) will attend. They matter in so many ways, most of them deeply unfortunate. The systems built around art, whether support or journalistic or other, can be amazingly ill-suited to the art itself.
Often, there is very little difference between work placed in the contemporary dance box and work put in the performance art corner. Of course, if we’re talking about ballet, or classical modern dance, there are immediate and obvious differences. But in contemporary work, where there can be more of an emphasis on installation and a deemphasis on set choreography, lines blur.
But then, lines blur all the time - why should it be any different in art? It’s always so strange when I hear people walk out of a performance huffily exclaiming “That wasn’t dance/painting/theater/poetry/etc.” So what? Did you like it? Was it captivating? Did it upset or bore or engage? We’re so caught up in how to look at art that we forget to actually look. All it takes is time, and an open mind.
I do think that museums and galleries often have a very difficult time figuring out how to fit performance into their institutions. There is a desire to or an admission that it needs to happen - witness the Whitney Biennial’s incorporation of performance - but that isn’t always accompanied by an understanding of what makes performance tick. Also, visual arts curators often just don’t know about the contemporary performance scene, and end up commissioning lame work from artists who don’t normally work in performance, instead of doing their homework. This is a shame on many levels - audiences don’t get to see the best stuff, the artists don’t get supported (and no artists need support like independent choreographers, who could benefit hugely from the resources available to visual arts institutions) and there is little cross-fertilization of ideas.
To return to your question, though, one difference (gross generalization warning) might be that dance emphasizes duration - you go in for a performance of a certain length, with the understanding that staying till the end will offer some sort of heightened experience. But performance art is often about consumption more than duration: you watch for as long as you want to watch, and leave once you’re sated. Staying to “the end” sometimes only deadens the experience.
But I can already think of the counter arguments to that distinction …
Comment from Martha
Date: July 8, 2008, 10:17 am
That gross generalization absolutely help– As I mentioned… for my Kiss viewing, I only made the last 30 minutes of the two hour “run” — and felt quite satisfied with what I’d had the luck to see. (Although I’d certainly be interested in your counter arguments, too!)
And it is also true that categories both help set context and — for good or ill — help (me) limit how to apportion too little time to wonderfully much possible art/culture in this city. I still feel guilty when I glance over Jazz and Pop in favor of Dance and Art in the Friday listings in your own NYT, but chances are at least 10:1 that it will have been the right time spent on the right opportunities. Who manages to fit it all in??
Comment from Claudia La Rocco
Date: July 8, 2008, 12:06 pm
Often the categories work just fine - it’s only when the art attempts to straddle or bedevil categories that we get into trouble, I think. Unfortunately for the category-enamored, though, that’s where a lot of art is headed these days.
Comment from M
Date: July 20, 2008, 1:57 pm
Claudia,
Just wanted to say how much I enjoyed this post. Thank you for sharing the poem, which I found much more engaging than the piece itself.
(Which I wrote about here: http://rantingdetails.typepad.com/my_weblog/2008/06/umwelt-umwhat.html)
It would be glorious if mainstream papers allowed for more flexibility in their reviews, and perhaps it WOULD grab attention of those who usually see “dance review” and skip to the next page. Then again, at least we have blogs to allow all the creative freedom we desire.
Although…
“Where was my editor??! Oh, yeah. Welcome to blogging, Claudia …”
I see you’ve found the downside of blogging
Welcome, indeed! Can’t wait to read more of your thoughts.
Comment from M
Date: July 20, 2008, 1:59 pm
In addition, I’d like to note that the poem about “Umwelt,” holds much more power for me than a typical review; it has made me look back on my time in the theater and question all of my experience again. My general feeling about the piece has not changed, but reading a piece of art about it, however minimal the poem may be, certainly made me stop and think.
Comment from Claudia La Rocco
Date: July 20, 2008, 7:22 pm
Hey M, thanks so much for writing, and for sharing your review. Your second comment has particular resonance for me - I love it when criticism makes me reconsider my reactions, there is something incredibly freeing about it (no doubt a shrink could have a field day with that…).
I was interested by your comment on your blog that “..it was clear that “dance” in the sense that I am accustomed to had gone into hiding for the day.” - do you think this dissonance added to your displeasure with the piece? I’m always intrigued by the role expectation plays in our experience as viewers.
I was blown away by Andres’ review - written in his second language, no less! I do think that typical reviews can be this powerful and artistic. But they certainly aren’t always.
And thanks for the welcome! I’m having a lot of fun.
Comment from M
Date: July 21, 2008, 1:08 am
You bring up even MORE interesting points Claudia.
I think as a dancer with ABT, I am always looking for even a hint of the “classical aesthetic” when watching piece. However open I am to other forms of dance (and I’m lucky to have grown up exposed to a vast array of movement types) I think that, even subconsciously, I am more drawn to things that resemble classical ballet.
That being said, I like to think that I am able to enjoy things that are far removed from my “comfort zone.” Your comment about “role expectations” is also intriguing to me purely from a sense of what type of mood we arrive to the theater in. My friend coerced me into attending the show (dragging me away from a few papers for school) and I arrived a little distracted and annoyed. Perhaps if I had been in a better mood I would have enjoyed the performance more.
Regardless of my mood, or my preconceived notions (I had very few for this piece, only knowing it was “European experimental dance,” according to my friend), I think I still would have disliked the piece. But reading the poem makes me wish I could go back and experience it again.
Comment from Claudia La Rocco
Date: July 21, 2008, 8:32 am
I love that you were annoyed to have to watch dance instead of write papers … makes me laugh. People who are rarely in the theater have such a romantic idea about what it’s like to always be there; I usually get slightly mystified stares when I say that, actually, going to the theater, if the performance isn’t good or isn’t to your liking, or if you’d just rather vedge out, is a lot like the feeling of going to the office. It can be a grind.
One of the hardest things for me to learn as a critic was how to put that feeling away - if I’m going to a performance for the fifth night in a row, whether to review or just see it, I really have to prepare myself mentally - to get out of my own way, so to speak. And, of course, if the work is good, those resentments disappear almost immediately. I sometimes think that going to the theater in a bad mood is better than going in expecting to love something - I can get rid of irritation much more easily than disappointment.
Comment from M
Date: July 22, 2008, 11:41 pm
It was more the fact that I had to get the papers done…not that I wouldn’t have rather been watching dance. It was a rare instance where my priorities were leaning toward the academic side ;). Believe me…I’m never one to chose writing a paper over seeing art.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts on removing yourself from the equation when viewing a piece of art. I think it’s a rare talent that is very difficult to achieve, and one that, as a critic, is something that you really MUST achieve in order to do your job to the best of your ability.
I agree that expecting to love something is often a recipe for disaster. Our brains have a way of expecting masterpieces that are rarely possible on stage. (Sankai Juku comes to mind…something I found to be beautiful but, because of a friend’s description, I was expecting my brain to explode with excitement.) Still, I find that going in in a bad mood can be just as detrimental; it usually means my mind is somewhere else, and unless the piece is gripping, I will have a hard time focusing. Perhaps that’s just me though!
Comment from Claudia La Rocco
Date: July 23, 2008, 12:57 pm
You might not have been impressed by Sankai Juku anyway .. or maybe that’s just me being cynical. I find that company pretty, and pretty empty.
No, you’re right - it’s best to go in neutral, calm and settled and ready for anything, but not expecting anything in particular. But there’s the ideal, and then there’s a typical day in this city …
Do you find, as a dancer, that you have to psyche yourself up for certain rep works, more so than others? I would imagine yes - I’ve read some great accounts of how dancers get through endless “Nutcracker” runs, or how actors try to muddle through terribly written plays that drag on forever. Amusing.
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