Authenticity

As I write, reflect, watch and create my way through my graduate studies, I've discovered an increasing frequency of the word authentic popping up in my writing.

Why? Authenticity is the most important quality in my interaction with art, a constant goal for my own practice, and subsequently a lens through which I view performance.

Why this blog post? As I recently thought about a personal definition for the word, I realized that while I value it to the same high degree in both creation and performance, I define it differently for each of these situations. 

Yes, this is what life is like when your full-time job is pursuing an MFA.

Authenticity in Creation

To me, authentic in terms of the creative process means the artist is finding genuine ways to express what needs to be said in message, medium and means.

If you didn't catch on, this is an opinion piece. I don't intend any judgment against those who don't agree or work in this way, nor do I practice what I preach without fail every now and then. 

The message, what your art attempts to say, is something one cares about, believes in, stands behind; even the exploration of a sudden interest in a new idea can count. The passion and care for the message should carry through as you create, even if you get into a rut or fall in and out of love with any part of the piece itself. In theory (and I have a long career ahead to test this, let's check in a couple of decades down the road), the authenticity behind and commitment to the message could even be the jury for what stays and what goes. What truly fits what you're trying to say? Is there an actual need for the extraneous stuff besides not wanting to cut things time was spent on making? Perhaps you're making work about extraneous stuff; then, I suppose, it would stay. Bring on the high kicks and confetti.

When thinking about authenticity in terms of medium I don't mean one should fiercely commit to a sole genre, or the pursuit of showcasing stellar technique (to be honest I think sometimes technique gets in the way of expression, though it's a good thing to have in one's toolkit). What I believe is that the medium should be the best possible vehicle for the message. Even if it's five different genres delivered at once, or a painstakingly crafted classical ballet abandoned for throat singing, or simply standing in an empty space and reading a letter. 

I view means as the logistical process of making a piece, and it's easy to stay on track here; either make the piece with full effort, or don't. It's usually evident (as a viewer) when the maker stopped caring about their work, or perhaps ran out of time for a particular section or component. If you don't care to make something to the best of your current ability, why should someone care to watch it?

While my rambling thoughts could continue forever, it's this trifecta of message, medium and means, all carefully attended to, that makes an authentic piece. (Though I bet we can think of more important m-words if we try...)

Authentic Performance

In performance, I define authenticity as embodiment on both a mental and physical level. Authentic is the performer that finds the reason to be truly present onstage, the reasons for doing the action they've been given to do and finding a new and genuine interest in doing it multiple times. It's a serious skill; you know you're watching such a high caliber performer when you can't look away. I'm not entirely sure how this works outside of theatre, dance, or forms where the human body delivers the content directly. I would be curious to know how this exists for those that perform through an instrument. 

Authentic performance can be informal as well. I personally don't enjoy 'performing', but I do love to move. Lately when I'm improvising or moving without agenda, I try to match my mind to my body, following physiological impulses and making them into an internal dialogue, or my body to my mind, letting the thoughts that roll through my mind influence how my body corresponds. Very similar to authentic movement, but in my case the internal choreographer is sporadically distracted by aesthetic as I move.

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That's all I've got on authenticity, for now. It was important for me to personally define what it means for art to be authentic as I carry on looking for it in my own work and that of others, historic and contemporary. If you got through the entire thing, congrats! 

What is YOUR single most important quality in making, performing or viewing of art?

Is it Dance?

I think it's important to note that my lens is modern dance, sometimes shifting towards a postmodern preference (movement for movement's sake) and more frequently towards the dance theatre need for image-based expression. I am curious to see if this problem comes up in forms that focus on showcasing a technique. 

Everyone seems to know what dance 'is'. Any person walking down the street could offer a definition of dance and maybe even give an example of their best ballerina-esque pirouette, a loose interpretation of tap dancing, or (my least favorite, even as a sometimes-musical-theatre-choreographer) jazz hands. Merriam Webster is no help, suggesting that dance (noun) exists as "a series of movements that are done as music is playing; an act of dancing." The problem I'm considering this week, is when that need for definition gets in the way of actually watching dance. 

Just last year, a well-meaning reviewer came to a Luminarium show and puzzledly noted that while she enjoyed the performance, it seemed that the dancers barely scratched the surface of their technique in the material given. 

A few years prior I found myself sitting in a studio showing in Chelsea, after watching my Luminarium co-director and friend Merli Guerra show one of her dance films, a striking piece that integrated a live performer. An older man (who we seemed to hear from endlessly throughout the evening) was the first to shoot a hand in the air and to state, "I just don't think that's dance." There was a quiet smattering of opinion whispered through the crowd, and the discussion ended; shockingly no major objections from the NYC crowd.

Where are we going wrong in that audiences are needing to outwardly contest a work's genre, and in turn that classification/misclassification effects their consumption of the performance? I recently attended a showing's talkback where everyone was so eager to chime in (a good thing), but all shared the same anxious look in their eyes as they shared an interpretation of the work with its creator and asked if they were right (not a good thing). Why do some audiences truly need the affirmation that they 'got it'? What happens when there is nothing to get?

After some thought and reading many critical reception essays of some creative icons (Cunningham, Bausch, Cage, etc) I believe it's the inherent assumptions that allow anyone to define and recognize dance that trap us in rigid boundaries.  Preconceived notions of dance are frequently challenged in the modern dance setting, which can lead to an uncomfortable combination of frustration, confusion and maybe a little bit of fear in the average audience member.  Perhaps by seeking affirmation in a talkback a viewer is seeking to redeem themselves after a perceived dig to their intelligence (again, sometimes there is nothing to get), but wouldn't watching dance in this manner be exhausting - ala frantically searching for symbolism through the curriculum of a literature class, and missing the enjoyment of just reading the works?

What can we do to demystify modern dance and its sub-genres? How can we get audiences in our performances that are ready to openly receive what we have to share without clutching so tightly to what they consider as dance, and measuring the difference between the two? How do we provide a safe-feeling viewing experience that might house some unsettling content; to make everyone feel like they belong, if they are ready to receive, and that all experiences are valid? 

I've certainly been in an audience myself when there is a pre-show reminder that all experiences are 'correct' and important, there are no wrong answers, and at others where the creator provides an immense amount of program notes to (over?)-explain what viewers are about to see. Do we have other options, can we improve upon what we have?

While I certainly don't think the ultimate remedy to this problem is creating work with an audience's safe-zone as an absolute limit, I also don't mean to insinuate that the choreographer can do no wrong in fighting such an uphill battle.  In my opinion it's definitely the responsibility of the creator to make work that is as authentically embodied and thoughtfully crafted as can be - no shoddy workmanship - but that is another post for another day...

Thoughts?

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