Dance critique as signature pedagogy

Critique in technique class

A modern technique class is as varied and unique as the art form. It might begin with an improvisation warm-up facilitated by the instructor who asks the students to move from specific anatomical initiation points, such as moving the arms through first widening the scapulae away from each other, and elongating the spine by reaching the crown of the skull to the sky and the tailbone down to the floor. The instructor might then invite the students to create their own prompts for moving their body from specific anatomical points, allowing the students to clarify their anatomical intention. The instructor might ask the students to share their prompts out loud, allowing them to practice anatomical clarity as well as verbalizing their intentions with their peers. The instructor’s role at this juncture is to ask the student for more clarity and an explanation of a given anatomical intention, and to provide accurate anatomical feedback if the student’s response is anatomically inaccurate. The class would then continue down this improvisatory path with additional stimuli provided by the instructor. Those prompts would include additional anatomical directions such as initiating all arm movement from the elbow joint or conceptual ideas—for example moving with the contrasting qualities of hot and cold—for the students to embody. Again, the instructor might provide feedback to the class on the visual actualities of the prompt, suggestions on how to deepen students’ physical and intellectual embodiment of the given prompt, and encouragement so that students continually verbalize and reveal their approaches with each other.

The class might end with students and instructor sitting in a circle discussing the improvisation. The instructor facilitates the conversation, ensuring that each student contributes and that each voice is heard. The instructor could begin the discussion by noting what she saw and asking students to contribute their observations about their peers and themselves. This approach increases the students’ agency by allowing them to own how they are moving their body and account for their kinesthetic and creative choices. This also provides the student with the opportunity to comment on what they saw their colleagues doing and allows the instructor to connect this improvisatory experience to the larger context of the professional field. The instructor might close the session by assigning a journal entry asking the students to detail their experience and connect the improvisation experience to their technical and creative development. The journal assignment might be shared with the instructor, allowing her to give personal feedback. This improvisation class scenario highlights how this signature pedagogy encourages students to be “not only active but interactive … and accountable not only to teachers, but also to peers in their responses” (Shulman, 2005: 57).

The modern class could also begin with a codified floor- and standing-movement sequence the students have been learning and progress to the dancers performing a complex and long phrase that they have also been practicing for weeks. For example, the floor sequence could include a set routine of specific dance exercises that target torso fluidity, hip joint mobility, abdominal contraction and release, and gluteal strength—all important staples of modern dance training and vocabulary. The class might transition from the floor routine to the standing-movement sequence, including focuses on balance, strength, and agility exercises, again centering on the repetitive skill-building that is an integral aspect of technique training. The floor- and standing-movement sequence lead up to the performance phrase where the dancers compile the experience of the rote exercises they have been learning and practicing and put them to use by dancing integrated, full-out, and expressively. Shulman (2005) describes the role of routine in signature pedagogies: “Learning to do complex things in a routine manner permits both students and teachers to spend far less time figuring out the rules of engagement, thereby enabling them to focus on increasingly complex subject matter” (p. 56). This type of repetition and habit allows dancers to practice their kinesthetic mastery of the material and incorporate the detailed technical and expressive critique provided by the instructor. The group performance of the phrase could be halted, with the instructor asking the students to pair up, watch each other perform the phrase, and offer feedback in terms of what is unclear and clear technically or expressively. The instructor could also ask one student to perform the phrase and note the technical and expressive execution of the dancer and ask the other students to offer what they are seeing in terms of technicality and expressivity. The class would then return to performing the phrase and end with the dancers being videotaped by the instructor.

The video recording might be viewed in the next class period. A dialogue might ensue, with the instructor asking students to critique their own performance for technical clarity and expressivity, while acknowledging their technical progress and pointing out areas for improvement. The students might then be asked to offer this same form of critical analysis to their colleagues. The conversation might end there and the students might be asked to incorporate the self-, peer-, and faculty-feedback. After an appropriate practice time, the instructor might videotape students’ performance again and ask each student to compare both videos to note if the self-, peer-, and instructor-feedback was embodied in their own dancing and the dancing of their peers. This exchange in which the students are required to analyze and share their analysis with the entire class illustrates Shulman’s (2005) observation that signature pedagogies emphasize “students’ active performance [to] reduce … the most significant impediments to learning in higher education: passivity, invisibility, anonymity, and lack of accountability” (p. 57).

Lastly, the class could also begin with the instructor informing the students that they are in a mock audition for a professional dance company and that she will introduce a complex and new movement sequence in which she offers no verbal instruction—only a physical demonstration that requires the students to immediately and instinctually use their visual and kinesthetic intelligences. This scenario creates an atmosphere of “risk taking and foreboding, as well as occasions for exhilaration and excitement” (Shulman, 2005: 57). The mock audition would close with the choreographer (instructor) thanking the dancers for their interest in her company and informing the dancers they would be notified via email of the results of their audition. The class might end with the instructor asking students to reflect on the most challenging technical and performance aspect of the mock audition, what part they felt they excelled in, what part they did not, the ease or difficulty they encountered with a nonverbally led class, the environment of a mock audition, and finally, if they feel they earned the spot in the professional company. The students might be asked to write a reflective paper to be shared with the instructor in a one-on-one comparative feedback conference. This particular mock audition scenario engages another tenet of Shulman’s (2005) signature pedagogies: “learning to deal with uncertainty in the classroom models one of the most crucial aspects of professionalism, namely, the ability to make judgments under uncertainty” and “uncertainty, visibility, and accountability inevitably raise the emotional stakes of the pedagogical encounters” (p. 57).

While all three modern technique class scenarios here are different and incorporate various teaching and learning goals, they are all representative of actual encounters in the professional dance field, making these experiences paramount to the training of preprofessional dancers. Common to each of these scenarios is “public student performance,” an obvious but significant element of signature pedagogies: “Without students actively performing their roles [in this case as professional dancers]—the instruction simply can’t proceed” (Shulman, 2005: 57).

Critique in choreography class

Just as the modern dance classroom mimics the complexity and richness of the professional contemporary dance field, so does the choreography class—or as I like to call it, the choreographic laboratory. Here, students fully explore and experiment with their individual creative processes and unique aesthetic voices, as opposed to a technique class in which students achieve a specific set of shared physical skills and an aesthetic style not necessarily their own. For all of the variations in a choreography lab—including class construct, assignments, readings, experiences, and so forth—the common thread is critique. Three of the more effective approaches include Ella Baff’s Invitation to the Dance (2013), Liz Lerman’s Critical Response Process (Lerman and Borstel, 2003), and Larry Lavender’s ORDER (1996). While each approach varies in philosophy, structure, and delivery, the shared emphasis is on providing critical feedback focused on the actual work presented and on the choreographic development of the artist.

A choreography instructor utilizing Baff’s Invitation to the Dance will find accessible guideposts to share with her students, especially helpful in critique in a lower-level university choreography class. The Jacob’s Pillow Dance Festival Executive and Artistic Director, Baff has based her treatise on years of engaging with a large variety of audience members, professional dance artists, and dance students who attend the longest-running annual American dance festival. Invitation to the Dance consists of ten guideposts or broad topics for initiating and framing feedback. While all 10 are geared toward the nonacademic community, a number of the topics are ideal for a university-level choreography instructor. In Check your preconceptions at the door, the choreography instructor encourages her students to view the in-progress artistic work with an open mind and to resist bringing any preconceptions about the work or the student artist to the construction process. The language of the body focuses on the fact that “dance has no linguistic equivalent. Dance is an art form of the body and the body speaks in many dialects created by a vast range of choreographers” (Baff, 2013: 1). The choreography instructor should focus on the fact that dances are based on movements of the body and encourage the students to note the qualities of movement (light, heavy, sharp, soft, etc.). Trust yourself asks those offering critique to remember that dance students have their “instincts, intelligence, interpretive skills, and curiosity” (Baff, 2013: 1). Choreography instructors should remind their students that they possess those traits and that they should trust in what they see and write their reflections of their work based on those skills. The guidepost Ambiguity can be a source of aesthetic pleasure gives choreography instructors permission to guide the students in embracing the abstract and encouraging them to give feedback based on the feelings, images, and ideas that the dance inspired. The last three tenets are The Journalist’s Eye, The Anthropologist’s Eye, and The Linguist’s/Grammarian’s Eye. As each implies, the choreography instructor may guide students to construct their feedback based on specific parameters. For example, “Describe the movement in your own words … what body parts are being used and in what way? What is the relationship between the music and movement?” (Baff, 2013: 2) falls under The Journalist’s Eye, while “What kinds of bodies are on stage, and what parts of the body are being engaged? Are the people moving in isolation or as a group? Do they appear to have rigid or flexible rules?” (Baff, 2013: 2) is keyed to The Anthropologist’s Eye. Invitation to the Dance can create an open environment in which students become familiar and comfortable with verbalizing feedback about their peer’s artistic work and delivering critique in a nonthreatening manner. This evaluative method is most effective in training dance artists who are at the beginning of their choreographic training and learning how to deliver and receive feedback and is most significant to the profession in terms of audience development.

As dance artists further their training, additional evaluative methods can assist them in deepening their critical and creative analysis skills. World-renowned choreographer and educator Liz Lerman developed her Critical Response Practice because in her experience, a critical component of feedback was missing, and artists were not receiving information to assist them in moving their work forward:

Though critique had been a familiar companion from my earliest days as a child in dance class, I was well established in my career as a choreographer before I finally acknowledged how uncomfortable I was about most aspects of criticism. (Lerman and Borstel, 2003: 6)

The key elements of Critical Response Practice are the three roles (artist showing work, facilitator, and group of responders) and the four core steps (Statements of Meaning, Artist as Questioner, Neutral Questions from Responders, and Permissioned Opinions). The choreography instructor is the facilitator who begins step one by asking the group of students not showing work to respond: “What has meaning for you about what you have just seen?” or “What was stimulating, surprising, evocative, memorable, touching, meaningful for you?” (Lerman and Borstel, 2003: 19). The philosophy behind step one is that “meaning is at the heart of an artist’s work, and to start with meaning is to begin with the essence of the artistic act” (Lerman and Borstel, 2003: 19). Step two allows the artist, the choreography class student showing her work, to choose whether to ask her peers an expansive question—helpful if she wants to survey general reactions—or to ask a specific, more pointed question in hopes of gaining guidance about a particular section of the work. Step three reverses the dialogue: the responders can ask the artist “informational or factual questions” (Lerman and Borstel, 2003: 20) in a neutral manner. Lerman and Borstel (2003) acknowledge that posing

a neutral question is not only difficult, but a seemingly ridiculous task if criticism is the point. But the actual process of trying to form opinions into neutral questions enables the responder to recognize and acknowledge the personal values at play. (p. 20)

The choreography instructor who utilizes Critical Response Practice in the class may find that students freely explore and clarify their artistic perspectives, critically assess their creative work and that of their peers, and verbalize their critical responses in respectful manner—ways in which critique encourages students “to think, to perform, and to act with integrity” (Shulman, 2005: 52). Lerman’s approach to critical feedback is significant to the profession in that it reflects the discipline’s emphasis on the individual creative process and empowering the choreographer as a type of author. It further exemplifies the shifting of agency from the external audience member back to the dance artist, an important aspect of the contemporary dance field.

Lavender’s ORDER approach to critique is Observation, Reflection, Discussion, Evaluation, and Revision, a circular process in which all participants in a choreography lab, including instructor, student choreographer/observer, and nonlab observer (such as an invited audience), give feedback. A choreography instructor utilizing Lavender’s (1996) pedagogical approach first details the difference between “casually looking at and carefully observing a work of art” (p. 62). Emphasis is on deliberately placing attention on the dance being presented and on “being open and receptive to the experience” (Lavender, 1996: 62). Observation in choreography must move beyond recognizing the familiar (flexed versus pointed feet) and instead notice the unfamiliar and all aspects of the art piece—“a mode of awareness that prepares students to describe, analyze, interpret, and evaluate dances” (Lavender, 1996: 65). Reflection of the dance study or piece presented follows the observation phase. Students are given several minutes to think, process, and write their initial impressions of the dance. This reflective phase allows the students to “clarify and record their impressions of the structures and artistic qualities they perceived in the work before giving the choreographer any verbal response to the dance or formulating interpretations and judgments of the dance” (Lavender, 1996: 68). Student choreographers must also write reflectively, describing their consideration of their creative process, their expectations of viewers’ reactions, and “what parts of the dance they think still present questions or problems” (Lavender, 1996: 76). During the reflection, students are encouraged “to write without self-censoring, allowing reflective memory of the work to emerge without worrying about which words to use” (Lavender, 1996: 70). In this method, discussion follows. The class sits in a circle with no specific front or leader. Sharing the reflective writing and working together on analysis is the optimum starting point. If students disagree, the instructor can use that moment to engage students in deepening their critical evaluation “to assess how artistic principles are operating in the work” (Lavender, 1996: 86).

The fourth component of ORDER is evaluation or judgment of the dance. Lavender (1996) asserts, “Some educators avoid evaluation because they believe that it stifles creative experimentation. But they overlook the fact that evaluation is going on all the time in education” (p. 90). Although judgment is a loaded term that has socially negative connotations, Lavender (1996) notes that the concept “includes ranking, estimating, predicting, and adjudicating” (p. 90). Because students are often intimidated and confused by judgment, they need processing and discussion time evaluating the meaning and use of the term. The instructor stresses that evaluations or judgments are not feelings or guesses, and “point[s] out to students the distinction between personal likings and substantive evaluation” (Lavender, 1996: 91). Subjective opinion versus critical assessment is a crucial distinction in dance pedagogy and a necessary one to make in the training of dance artists. Too often, beginning dance artists frame their analysis subjectively—“I didn’t like the way you used the upstage right wing to enter. I would have entered from downstage. I really liked the opening movement though, it was cool.” That subjective feedback is not very useful to the dance artist. Critical assessment allows that same student to offer,

I was intrigued with the movement dynamics and rhythm of the opening phrase, but I was confused with your use of space. Why did you choose to spatially frame your opening in that manner? When the dancer was closer to the audience, I noticed that there was a greater connection to the action. Are you going for connection or isolation?

Lavender’s ORDER approach is signature to the profession because it creates an environment conducive to art-making, critical evaluation, and substantive dialogue. The method ensures that all of the participants, students, and instructor are engaged in meaningful critical analysis, reflection, discussion, and application: “When dancers talk about dance in the context of dance making, the circle is complete—making, perceiving, reflecting, interpreting, evaluating, and then remaking with greater understanding” (Hanstein quoted in Lavender, 1996: ix).

Conclusion

Ultimately, critique is woven into the fabric of the dance profession at every point. Choreographers critique their creativity, the conceptual underpinning of the dance, the compositional and architectural structure of the work, as well as their and other dancers’ technical and performative execution. Dancers critique their own technique and performance qualities as well as those of their peers. Collaborative artists, such as lighting designers, costume designers, and set designers, also critique their artistic contribution to the dance. Dance critics, whose professional obligation is to critique, evaluate the artistry of the work presented and the quality of how the dance is performed. The final participants of dance critique are the audience members who evaluate the dance in a variety of ways, often asking themselves if they were emotionally, intellectually, visually, or kinesthetically moved. Critique begins, however, by informing each layer of dance education, its signature pedagogy that facilitates the development and refinement of the dance artist.