Dance Journal, Week 4 (Feb 9, 2010)

DNCE 320
Journal, Week 4
February 9, 2010

"Looking at World Dance." Moving History / Dancing Cultures: A Dance History Reader. Ed. Ann Dills and Ann Cooper Albright. Middletown, CT: Wesleyan UP, 2001. 92-96. Print.

In this introduction to a section of essays about various types of dances from around the world, the authors invite us to ask “What is ‘World’ dance?” Does that word have any meaning in our increasingly global society, especially with regard to those who immigrate to “the West” from other countries? The authors ask three other important questions. The first is: “How are we looking?” – They caution that “movement vocabulary” is important as we analyze and discuss the cultural meaning of individual movements as well as the entire dance. Where we are when we look, when we look, and, indeed, who is doing the looking are also important. In discussing the second question – “What are we looking at?” – the authors give us examples of both the post-colonial perspective of dance in India, as well as the complexities of analyzing the dances of the African Diaspora. The final question seems to be the simplest to answer: “Why are we looking?” The authors assert that reading about different types of dance around the world, and the different forms it takes, expands the reader’s understanding of what dance is, and what it can be, which then invites us to come “face to face with hidden ideologies in [the reader’s] own dance techniques.”


Martin, Lynn. "Symbolism and Embodiment in Six Haitian Dances." Journal for the Anthropological Study of Human Movement 8.3 (1995): 93-119. Print.

This scholarly paper about the relationship of Haitian Dance to the vodou ceremony was fascinating, but I kept getting distracted by little things.

The first thing to strike me as “off” was on page 94, in the second full paragraph, which says, “Within [vodou’s] purview fall such subjects as health…, personal relationships, … business ventures, artistic expression and entertainment, and more orthodox religious obligations and practices concerning Divinity.” The Fourth Edition of The American Heritage Dictionary defines “orthodox” as “adhering to the accepted or traditional and established faith, especially in religion.” So, if subjects such as health, business success, etc., fall under vodou’s purview, are they not also “orthodox?” Martin doesn’t put the word in quotes, so I wonder – ‘orthodox’ from whose perspective? Perhaps the author means “liturgical,” defined by Random House Dictionary as “of or pertaining to formal public worship.” A better word might even be “ceremonial.”

Here my prof wrote: "or 'spiritual,' but I take it to mean more standard religious obligations in terms of Western standards."

In the last paragraph of page 96, the author talks about the use of secular songs, and I couldn’t help but think that the description sounds like “The Capitol Steps!”

Here my prof wrote: "I agree -- this seems misplaced. Skip the previous paragraph and it makes sense."

I wonder how these three sentences about secular song are relevant to a discussion of music and dance within a religious ceremony, and why this type of secular song is presented as if it were something strange or noteworthy.

Here my prof wrote: "This ties to vodou as lifestyle & the use of song to exert influence & solve interpersonal problems.

On page 98, the author describes the ason as “a sacred rattle,” made from a gourd surrounded by decorative beads or bones. There is a drawing of it on page 116. What I find odd is the author’s assertion that “the ason is not, technically speaking, a musical instrument.” Why not? Even if it’s used in a way that the author does not consider “musical” (a subjective word if ever there was one), that does not mean that the item itself is not a “musical instrument.” The in-text citation here references another paper about vodou, but it is unclear whether it is a musicology paper or from some other discipline, which makes me wonder where Martin (or Denning and Philips, for that matter) gets the authority to decide whether or not the ason is a “musical instrument.” Many years ago, I took a class in Sub-Saharan African Music and, judging by the drawing of the ason, it looks to my eyes a lot like musical instruments used in western Africa. In fact, I’ve seen similar instruments used in percussion concerts here in the US. I’m sure those percussionists would be surprised to find out that it’s “not, technically speaking, a musical instrument!”

Here my prof wrote: "Point well taken. I would have to look to Martin's sources. The only 'excuse' I can come up with is that the ason may not be considered a musical instrument by the priests/priestesses/practitioners."

Good point - and upon further thought, I think what the author meant is that the practitioners are not using the ason as a musical instrument, but in some other fashion. That does not magically make it "not a musical instrument," though. Plus, have you seen what Evelyn Glennie can do with an ashtray, a few cups, and a pair of chopsticks? ;-)

Also distracting is the author’s introduction of the word lwa without a pronunciation guide. First used on page 97, it is unclear in the printed font whether the italicized word is spelled with a lower-case L or an upper-case I. It is not until page 99 when “The Lwa” is used as a section header that the reader sees that the first letter is an L, and an end note giving a pronunciation guide is referenced, but perhaps this is the journal editor’s fault.

My prof wrote: "Indeed, it looks like a capital I, and most students write it wrong."

Throughout the paper, the word “mythological” is used to describe concepts without any discussion of why that word was chosen in that instance instead of “religious” (also used throughout the paper) or what the distinction between “mythological” and “religious” might be (see the Desmangles quote on pg 101 for a prime example).

Also on page 101 is what seems to me to be a blatant contradiction. First the author quotes Desmangles: “[Possession] is a public commitment… that heightens one’s exercise of religious authority in the community,” then goes on to say “when the possession ends, the ‘everyday self’ returns, and the person receives no deferential treatment by virtue of having been possessed.” Immediately after this sentence, the author refers back to the Desmangles quote, writing, “As Desmangles points out, the individual’s exercise of religious authority in the community is heightened.” Which is it? Is the person’s religious authority heightened, or are they treated with no deference? To me, these things seem to be mutually exclusive. Unfortunately, Martin never elaborates on what she means.

My prof wrote: "Confusing, yes. I can only surmise that what the author intends to mean is the lwa in the possessed form may be treated deferentially."

In the first full paragraph of page 102, the author conflates homosexuality with transvestitism.

My prof wrote: "This is a problem."

After pointing out that “cross-gender possession is common,” and saying that a man possessed by a female lwa “may be dressed as a woman and will speak like a woman” (does that mean with a higher pitch? Or is there some specific way that Haitian women speak that Haitian men do not? The author never explains), Martin writes that “homosexuality exists” in Haiti. Well, of course it does, but what does homosexuality have to do with the clothes a person is wearing or how they speak? By not supplying context for this information (do most men who are routinely possessed by female lwa self-identify as homosexual or gender dysphoric in some way?), the author is perpetuating a stereotype and in my opinion, that has no place in a scholarly paper, even one published in 1995.

My prof wrote: "Not that long ago in the broader sense."

Another example of a loaded word is found on page 104, where Martin writes, “Sacred movement proceeds in a counter-clockwise direction around the potomitan, which is a reversal of the normal order.” There is no context given here to tell the reader what the “normal order” might be. Does it mean that the participants process around the potomitan in a clockwise direction at the beginning of the ceremony? Or do Haitians perhaps never walk around any objects in a counter-clockwise direction? There’s no way to know from the paper.

Finally, on page 108, in the description of Nago dance, Martin writes, “The posture of Nago’s dancers is dignified….” Compared to what, exactly? Is she implying that the postures of other dancers are undignified? Perhaps the author means “an erect posture,” but if so, she should say so without using value-laden terms.

My prof wrote: "I can only hope the writer is taking a Haitian-centered approach, but I can't be sure. I think it is still a comprehensive enough overview. For more reading, check out "The Divine Horsemen" - Maya Deren & Yvonne Daniel's work."

In addition to the “distractions” I listed above, I did find some very interesting things (in the positive sense) in the paper, too.

In the descriptions of the various lwa, Erzulie’s color is given as blue. Erzulie sounds like “azure” or “lazuli,” which makes me wonder if it comes from French, or directly from Arabic (either would make sense given Haiti’s history), or it’s just one of those linguistic faux amis that happen from time to time.

Baron Samedi is also quite interesting. In French, Samedi is the word for Saturday. Saturday comes from Saturn, a Roman fertility god. We also get the word “saturnalia” from Saturn, and the descriptions of the dances associated with Baron Samedi reminded me of descriptions of saturnalia.

The characterization of Damballah reminded me of the dance we’ve been learning in class, specifically the arm movements. Later, the description of Yonvalou on page 107 also reminded me of our dance. Is that the type of dance we’re learning?

My prof wrote: "Yes - I am most familiar with Yonvalou movement."

So, while the “distractions” I listed make me question the objectivity and integrity of the entire paper, I did find the discussion of a religion previously unfamiliar to me fascinating. I just hope that the “distractions” aren’t indicative of bias or projection on Martin’s part.

My prof wrote: "Me, too."

Bourgignon, Erika. "Trance and Ecstatic Dance." Moving History / Dancing Cultures: A Dance History Reader. Ed. Ann Dills and Ann Cooper Albright. Middletown, CT: Wesleyan UP, 2001. 97-102. Print.

This discussion of “dance epidemics” is an overview of the ecstatic dance in many different cultures around the world, including countries in Africa as well as in Europe and the Americas. When the author wrote that some dancers “felt forced to dance compulsively,” I couldn’t help but think of the story “The Red Shoes,” and wonder if that story was inspired by such dances. I appreciated the discussion of masks as used in ecstatic dance: how if a mask is used in a trance state, the spirit resides in the mask and not in the entranced person (in fact, the masks are specifically designed to prevent permanent possession of the masked person). Also fascinating was the discussion on the use (or non-use) of drugs. (This section made me look up the paper in the index to see when it was written and I was not surprised to see “1968.” Words such as “psychedelic” gave it away.)

My prof wrote: "Date is also cited in "Looking at World Dance."

That's the first reading in this paper, so I guess I forgot about that! oops!

This paper shows that ecstatic dance has very ancient origins and is practiced all over the world in many different ways. While a detailed discussion is beyond the scope of this overview paper, it whets my appetite to learn more about specific practices of various cultures.

Here at the end of my paper, the prof wrote: "I enjoyed your dialogue. Thank you for taking a critical look."