This question does not arise in the other arts. True, the untrained eye may fail to understand a great painting but at least his retina registers the same image as anyone else's, including the artist himself, and it is all about the image. A great novel may not be fully understood, but at least the brain registers the same words from the page, and it is all about the words. And playing a musical instrument is a very physical act for the musician, but it is all about the sound he produces, both for himself and his audience.

When we see a play performed on stage - is that the same thing as the script on the printed page? I think most would agree, yes it is, although there are differences, even if the words remain identical. A particular director's take or the fact that an actor incarnates a character may change our perception of the play, but it could be said these are nuances of the same thing which the playwright created. Everything springs from the script; when we read the script for ourselves, our imagination creates its own images of the characters, settings etc. So the play remains essentially the same for an audience as it was for its writer and as it is for its performers. A script is a different entity from a stage production but what is central to both is the meaning of the words, and they remain the same.

But dance is different. When I watch someone else dance, for me the visual element is paramount. But for the performer, there is no visual element in his dance. Firstly, what he sets out to create all forms within his own body - just as if there was nobody watching (sometimes there is not,) and secondly he cannot see himself dancing like a painter can see his canvas or a musician can hear himself. The dancer perceives a different work of art. What he creates is a set of mental, physical and emotional processes of great complexity which unite within himself into a very specific consciousness, an artistic act impossible to share with anyone else as he experiences it.

The reverse also is true. The audience sees something which the dancer never can, certainly not during the performance, but not even later, even if he watches a recording of it - he cannot experience what the audience did when watching his performance as outside observers. Or when dancers practice in front of the mirror, they have pre-knowledge of what they are going to see which, unlike the audience, they can also adjust, and they can only catch a glimpse at a time. Only the audience can see this moving, living sculpture exclusively from the outside in four dimensions.

And we still have to ask, which of the two is the real thing? Which of the two is the work of art? In fact, do we end up with two separate works of art, that which the dancer experiences and that which the viewer sees live on stage, if there is an audience present?

This duality of the art of dance was first observed by the ancient Greeks. They stated that the performer moved to a rhythm to achieve harmony of body and mind internally, while the audience were affected by the ideas and emotions portrayed externally.

In the early 20th century, the principles
of Greek dancing were incorporated
in the methods of Isadora Duncan (above),
often called the mother of modern dance.

But none of this resolves the issue definitively. Obviously, there is communication between dancer and any audience, so they must be sharing something common to both.

It could be said that the human brain has the capacity to experience vicariously the same thing that the dancer does, through the amazing quality of empathy. That would be a possible answer and this must be true to a degree, even though the observer may not experience exactly the same thing. After all, one is the performer, the other a recipient. But this is unsatisfactory as an answer. In music or theatre too we have performers and audiences but, as we set out earlier, the work of art being shared is identical, whereas things are different with dance.

This also explains, partly, the fierce attacks by critics every time a new dance was introduced to the 'polite society' of the day in most countries of the world. Yes, some critics were prudish or conservative or insensitive to art, but also it was impossible for them to know what it felt like to dance those dances simply by watching, so they made their own assumptions. For example, the necessity for close bodily contact in order to lead and to follow could only be a public sexual display to some critics, whereas the mind of the dancers had to be focused on the music, on their technique and hopefully their artistic expression, with little time for other thoughts - unless not quite dancing, of course, in their private rooms, or putting on a different kind of show.

At first this duality may seem like finding some limitation in the human brain and a flaw in the art of dance, but in fact the dichotomy between what the dancer perceives and what the viewer sees sheds light on a different level. Because the dancer also is unable to see his performance as the audience sees it, dance is elevated to a unique art of a different kind of complexity, and a different kind of communication between performer and audience.

THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN MUSIC AND DANCER

The ability to translate music into something totally different, an equivalent meaningful body movement, is close to synesthesia. Just like people with synesthesia can see, for example, colours when they hear words or can feel tastes when they see numbers etc., gifted dancers can hear a piece of music for the first time and dance to it simultaneously, finding movement which is the equivalent of that music, with extraordinary expressiveness. This can only be done instinctively. Others may feel something when they say "it makes you want to dance, or to tap your feet," but the gifted dancer is on a different level, using every part and every muscle of his body in original combinations of movement to interpret every nuance and every subtlety in the music from one moment to the next, some of which movements may never have been performed by anyone else before.

This ability can only be inborn, just like you cannot teach someone to feel a taste in their mouth when they see a number. What is interesting is that, when we watch dancers with this particular gift, we too can see the connection between the music and their movement, even though we could never have invented that movement ourselves. Something has been revealed to us, about the meaning of the music, and about human form. And in that sense, dance is like all the other arts - it transmits an experience, because we share that basic human form. So empathy may enable our brains to share some aspect, some part of the dancer's experience to a degree, and vice versa.

Returning to the question, do we end up with two separate works of art? If we do, is it possible for the two to overlap? The problem goes to the heart of what is art, or performance art.

A different question is what happens to such gifted people when they are put through rigorous training, for example to become ballet or ballroom dancers. They are now forced to adopt a very specific, highly prescribed language. To what degree does this destroy their natural talent?

Speaking of a different art form, a great musician once condemned certain music teachers for the 'straitjacket' way they taught gifted children, saying "They mess with nature," and this applies just as much to dance or to any art.

Dance lessons are, of course, necessary in order to learn that language, but there can be conflict between natural talent and the discipline of any dance idiom. It is known, for example, that gifted dancers have greater difficulty memorising given set routines designed (choreographed) by others; this is because what they hear in the music overrides what they are told to do at that particular point, and the conflict prevents their brain from focusing on the learned pattern.

It must be remembered also that any teaching of any idiom or any particular dance is the exact opposite process to that experienced by the original inventors of those dances. For example, the Samba, the Cha-cha, and other Latin American dances were invented by ordinary people, like cotton-pickers while working in the fields, who had had no formal training whatsoever, but had the inborn gift of a dancer, and invented movements to fit the music (which they probably sang) and the feelings of that music. Likewise the Tango was developed by poor immigrant workers at the port of Buenos Aires who needed an outlet for the emotions of their unique circumstances and, in the process, created a whole new art with its own music and lyrics, and style of dance. Now even the most gifted dancer, while he interprets the music with originality, is using a language and vocabulary created by someone else and passed down to him second hand, restricting his own natural vocabulary.

In the case of ballet, the idiom has been refined to an extraordinary degree, prescribing every detail, no matter how inventive, creative or expressive the dancer wants to be - with the odd foreign phrase permitted, if it adds meaning.

And there is even less room for self expression in highly stylised dances like of those of Java and Bali. Here the craft element is far greater than the artistic component. The viewer receives a thing of great beauty created mostly by generations of tradition rather than one individual performer, even though the execution can be sublime.

...MUSIC, DANCE, AND THE BALLROOM DANCER

At the beginning of the nineteenth century, London became one of the main centres, if not the centre, for the development of a set of dances now known as 'ballroom,' to which certain dances of Latin origin were added for general consumption by the same performers on the same occasions, and rules were standardised. This set of dances and rules then spread around the world.

Here again dancing found itself being used for popular entertainment rather than any profound expression of emotions and ideas, but the gifted dancer will take ballroom to a different level through his own personal interpretation.

In fact any ballroom dancer will find room for self-expression. Each one of those ten dances has its defining character, it reflects certain feelings, values and ideas. Compare the Jive or Rock-n-roll to the Waltz, or the Foxtrot to the Samba. In the Waltz I am regal and smooth, in the Jive I loosen up and have fun, and so on. It is not just the steps that are different, but the whole way of thinking. If the dancer understands (through the music) what each dance stands for, he cannot fail to express it. We can hardly hide our body language betraying our thoughts and feelings, even when we try, so a deep understanding of each dance will show itself in the dancer's personal style, inevitably. If this does not happen, either the dancer is a beginner still preoccupied with his feet, or a social dancer, more interested in social contact, a little pleasure and light entertainment than in the art of dance. It is like hearing some people playing the piano, they hit all the right notes, but there is no interpretation and therefore no depth of meaning.

This is not to disparage social dancers. We cannot all be artists, and not many artists can practice all of the arts. Social dancing is highly recommended as the quickest fix - a small dose of happiness, because it combines music, contact with other people and physical movement, each beneficial in itself, but now a combination which releases endorphins like nothing else can. And in the process, one might acquire a better understanding of the arts in general, or change the way one thinks about dance. Dancing will change anyone to a better person.

A different creature again is the so-called competition dancer. Here, the consideration of what the judges see takes precedence over that of creating an original work of art. Rules have to be obeyed. I would prefer that such competitions awarded two sets of marks, as they do in ice skating: Technical merit is one thing, but it is not enough. They must also be marked separately on artistic impression. And once the competition is over, I would prefer such competition dancers to focus away from rules and pay more attention to their interpretation of the music. Rules are good for the general dancer but can be a hindrance to the gifted dancer, who should then feel free to disregard them at will.

Ballroom dance competition

The phenomenon of dancers performing before judges or in competitions has nothing to do with the art of dance and has developed for less sophisticated audiences. You cannot change art into a sport where competitors try to outdo each other. Criticism is legitimate in dance, as it is in any art, as long as it is remembered that the primary purpose of performing dance is not to put on a show. The key here is that the dancer does not dance primarily for the viewer or any audience. Once he achieves virtuosity and while performing, the dancer must never take into account how he appears to others, his sole aim should be to interpret, with every ounce of his body, the music he hears and nothing else - to incarnate and to translate that music into movement. When one or more dancers put on a dance display specifically for an audience, the critic must be aware of the difference, and judge the dance element separately as a work of art. Pleasing an audience is a very different thing.

While on the relationship between music and dancer, it is worth mentioning a problem sometimes faced by all dancers. Because the music must always dictate how the dancer performs, a conflict arises when the music played to him does not reflect the character of the dance it is supposed to be; some of the music used at dance venues or on television programs is far from it. Music is not just a rhythm. The Tango, the Paso Doble, the Foxtrot - each dance has its character, and the same applies to folk dances the world over, or any dance. Using music which goes against this character creates an impossible conflict and then the best possible option is not to dance. Dance teachers also can make this mistake, when their choice of music contradicts what they just told their students to do. If it is supposed to be staccato, then play staccato music, and if you want him to look like a matador, do not play the music of a wild rock star. As long as the music being played remains true to the character of the dance, there can still be a choice of music and interpretation.

Likewise for the dancer, if this Rumba music is soft and romantic, the dance has to be romantic, but if this music is sexy, raunchy and sensual - good luck with that.

Whatever the kind of dancing or the particular dance, the performer must never forget to listen well and serve the music.

ASPECTS OF DANCE

The essence of dance is body movement which can induce or communicate emotions or ideas. Quotation: "Dance can condense meaning in a movement, the way poetry can." This property of dance has been used from antiquity for religious, social, ritualistic and other purposes. From preparation for battle to rain-making, courtship, marriage and death, most peoples of the earth have used dance to embody ideas or feelings at such occasions.

In such dancing, the significance of the occasion often takes precedence over and above any artistic interpretation by the performers. It is more important that they adhere to the traditional script than that they become creative and self-expressive.

I have experience of this dilemma myself as a serious student of traditional Greek dances. My instinct was to be inventive, and my natural body language was that of freedom of expression and a person of modern times with multicultural experience. So I could never feel or look like the original inventors or the contemporary natives steeped in those traditions. However, I have to, and I want to, embody their traditional style and meaning. The answer to this dilemma lay in the music. Once again, the solution was to listen. The Greek music I had to dance to, sometimes unchanged for centuries, conveyed its own meaning which I would always put first in my mind as a performer. Both the music and the dances had been developed together over so many years (some from antiquity) that all artistic considerations had been explored and perfected long before me, and to innovate beyond a certain limited scope would be to misinterpret the music. If I was true to the music, my dancing would be interpretative without straying too far from the traditional.

I sometimes teach dance as a hobby - I teach 120 (out of about 350) traditional Greek folk dances. And I always ask my dance students to complete a questionnaire at the start of a new class.

I ask them to choose ONLY ONE out of these options:

Dance is an art, like playing a musical instrument.
Dance is a craft and a useful skill to have.
Dance is romantic, or a social activity.
Dance is for celebrations and special occasions.
Dance is good exercise for the brain and body.

May I invite you, the reader, now to force yourself to choose one of the above, even though all of them can be true.

Regardless of whether you dance at all, what does your choice say about you and about your understanding of dance?

As in all the arts, it is extraordinary how many different things dance can be used to express. The range is infinite. But the dancer must never lose sight of what dance is. I have watched students of dance performing and looking as if trying to put themselves in a romantic trance. This would mean their mind was somewhere else, as opposed to concentrating on interpreting the music, and so they totally missed the essence of dancing. Others looked as if performing with the determination of a sportsman eager to win. Again, the mind far away from where it should be.

Dance is nothing if it is not listening, that is what dance is, listening to a piece of music and then finding the body language to incarnate that music, or to express the meaning of that music. This applies even when the dancer dances in silence, as in some contemporary choreography - the added complexity here being that the dancer hears some inner music, while we are made to feel that music through his body language. Expressing its meaning can include a number of things: the meaning of that music in the abstract, its meaning to this individual performer, its meaning to him or her on this particular occasion (different every time, for the gifted dancer,) the wider meaning of any traditions behind the music (especially in folk or ethnic dancing), and so on.

When there is an audience present, the dancer will want to communicate such meaning to them also. If a dancer can take into account such considerations and still produce original art, then we recognise in him or her true genius.

© John K Smyrniotis
London 2014

Strictly Come Dancing Review