Tag Archives: art

Fusion… What Is It?

This is a post that’s been a long time coming – in fact I first began drafting it while I was living in England and contributing to the Dance X project, which was several years ago now. The topic was brought to light again during Mile High Fusion, particularly at the teacher’s summit, and has been kicking around ever since. Not every thought in here is 100% mine, and some of it flies in the face of some pretty well established social dance conventions. Special thanks to Mark Carpenter and Joe DeMers who helped me hash this out over exhausted Thai food. I’m probably going to get snarky. Here we go.

What is fusion?

The question comes up frequently as our scenes develop, and our communities try and find ways to discuss the work we’re doing. There have been attempts to re-name fusion and define is as a specific dance technique. There have also been a number of umbrellas applied to different approaches: Fusion as Fusion, Fusion as Philosophy, and Fusion as Aesthetic are three of the big ones. I subscribe to none of them… or rather, I do, but for me they’re not the answer to the question of “what is fusion?” and the subsequent question of “…and how do we teach it?”

Issues that arise in answering the question:

  1. The west coast tends to think it owns fusion, and that what’s happening on the west coast is what’s happening all over the country/world. This is not true. Folks who don’t travel to fusion events where a broad range of local fusion practices are represented make sweeping generalizations about what is “happening” in fusion, and ignore the very present and very valid approaches of other fusion scenes.
  2. Fusion gets a whole lot of shame and dismissal from other dance communities. I remember vividly standing in an airport this year while around me blues dancers performed a hideous parody of “fusion” to general laughter and agreement. The broader dance community is unwilling to recognize fusion as a unique and identifiable form of expertise.
  3. Fusion is FULL of experts… but they’re often experts at specific things that are not fusion. Folks trying to define fusion are often bringing in their own standards of what is neutral, universal, most efficient etc., without acknowledging the cultural weightedness of those assumptions and how they are producing limits and exclusions on the dance floor and in the classroom.
  4. People are coming to fusion wanting to be experts in just fusion, without the investment in other dance techniques. Everyone wants this to be possible, but no one is sure of the best way to go about doing it respectfully, and in a way that produces good dancers.

So where am I coming from?

I’m originally a conservatoire-trained concert dancer. I have a professional career in ballet, contemporary and modern dance that I started concurrently with my entry into the social dance world. I started blues and swing when blues was more like fusion, but I also danced fusion as a separate practice. I’m a contact improviser. I’m a trained movement analyst. I’m getting a PhD in dance, specifically in the construction of discourse. I lecture on dance in university and conference settings and I teach dance technique in the same. I organize my local fusion scene and I teach and DJ at national-level social dance events. I publish academically about blues and fusion. I am a full-time professional dance geek.

To start answering the question “What is Fusion,” I first want to introduce you to a few other terms: dance techniques, dance forms, dance aesthetics, and dance styles. I’m going to use those terms slightly differently than you may have heard before.

Techniques: physical, internally motivated ways of doing things. Techniques cluster together as…

Forms: recognizable collections of culturally connected techniques. Forms are often recognizable through their…

Aesthetics: externally recognizable traits of a dance form. Not the same as technique (see below). Individual practitioners of a form may use a combination of technique and aesthetics to produce…

Style: an individual or communal way of practicing a collection of techniques, or a dance form. Consistent enough to be recognized over a period of time.

The difference between aesthetic and technique… ok, here is where some blues dancers start to raise their hackles and get bitey, but bear with me. When Brenda Dixon Gottschild began writing about Africanist Aesthetics she was identifying features that could and should be recognized from outside the black dance community – visible things. When we teach the blues aesthetic in dance classrooms what (I sincerely hope) we are teaching are the internal, physical techniques required to produce that aesthetic. I know there’s a ton of classist and standardizing baggage around the term “technique,” and it makes sense to use an in-community word, but I am using the word here in a specific context to distinguish two important ways of doing. In other words:

You can recognize this as the aesthetic of ballet….

index

But this is the aesthetic produced by technique…

drama-swan-lake-1-tkhunt

….and this, plus ideology, is why I do not think fusion is an aesthetic.

Ideology?

In an abstract, ideological sense, fusion has no limits as to the kinds of dance it can produce. This is where Fusion as Philosophy comes in. In practice, fusion absolutely does have cultural norms and limits, which take into account the safety, comfort, and assumed background of everyone at the dance. At least 80% of the dancing is done on two feet, for example. So I say that the ideology of fusion – the ideals that shape and guide it – are different from the facts of its practice.

Returning to my point, I’d say that different scenes have different fusion aesthetics, produced by local pools of forms and techniques influencing the dancing. But fusion as a whole does not have/is not an aesthetic.

So what is fusion?

Fusion is not a dance form because of the way we treat techniques. Individual fusion dancers pull in a range of techniques from a huge variety of extant social and concert dance forms. I said that dance forms were clusters of techniques that are culturally connected – to history, to music, to a given population. Fusion does not really meet any of those criteria. Individuals share their techniques and add them to the local or national pool, but there’s no expectation of technical common ground when we go to dance with each other.

Ah hah! You’re talking about fusion as fusion!

Well… kinda. I do believe that for a dance to be fusion there need to be at least two dance forms meeting within the dance, but those two forms could meet in one solo performance. They could have been encountered only as techniques taught in fusion classes. They might be expressed between the partnership and the music, rather than between the partners themselves. I don’t think that it’s impossible to dance fusion as the only dance you do, which sets me out of alignment with the center of the fusion as fusion argument. It becomes clearer when I start talking about teaching fusion.

I believe that there are two strands to teaching fusion, and that both must be present for scenes to be successful: we must teach dance techniques (n.b. NOT forms, although I’m hugely in support of teaching the histories and cultures of those techniques as we share them), and we must teach methods of collaboration and combination. My current favourite analogy is to compare fusion to painting: we have to put colours on our palette, and we have to develop skills in applying them to a canvas in order to make art. A solo dancer with blue and red can still dance purple. A partnership may share green, or may come to it as a collaboration of blue and yellow if they have the skills to do so… or they can dance blue and yellow as distinct and separate colours, together.

The techniques of combination and collaboration across difference are the expertise of fusion. There are no fusion techniques, although there are dance forms that contribute our primary colours: blues, contact improvisation, tango etc. Individuals and local communities develop different fusion aesthetics because of the different colours offered to the palette, and because we by no means agree on how combination and collaboration should best take place – brushes, finger-painting, abstract splatters etc.

Wrapped all together, what does this mean? For me, fusion is a dance style: an individual or communal way of practicing a collection of techniques, or dance forms. Consistent enough to be recognized over a period of time. At its heart fusion is an individual practice that we choose, as a community, to do together. It is a shared exploration of technique, form, and aesthetic wherein we use the physical inspiration of others – dancers, DJs, videos – to develop a style that we can call our own. As we teach fusion, we are offering dancers the tools to continue that exploration for themselves, and to paint new designs and details in their own bright colours.

Fusion as style.

 

Thanks for reading!

Advertisements

Events between a place and candy: Two reviews of spring in New York

“Event,” Robert Swinston and Compagnie CNDC Angers

It begins with a ripple of silk. Thirty or so panels in white, brown, pink yellow and red tossed out into the air as if an unseen dancer had suddenly run behind.

Perhaps, in that moment, much of what needs to be said about Merce Cunningham’s work has already been said: elegant, random, playful and vivid – evocation without signification. And the dance is just beginning.

Initially I was wary of Robert Swinston’s Event at the Joyce, a combine of various Cunningham repertory works on the Compagnie CNDC-Angers, or at least I went with my reconstructionist head on and a lot of questions to ask. What was he trying to do? Was this a Merce Cunningham work or a Robert Swinston? To what extent would he play on the (to my mind) very particular performance circumstances implied in the combination of “Cunningham” and “Event” in the same program?

The silk, to some extent, put my mind at rest, as did the sumptuous score emanating from John King and Gelsey Bell, tucked into the bottom left corner of the auditorium. The music existed, a crystalline thing of its own, creating synchronous moments with the movement of the stage and yet never narrating, or making the textual experience overly rich. And still, the dance is just beginning.

The eight dancers slowly form a diagonal line across the stage, rising to demi-point as they join hands to arrive en tableau. The opening of the piece says “duets” perhaps too loudly for my taste – with an emphasis on paired relationships and partnering, and more than a passing focus on centre stage. Several sequences are screamingly slow, while others sneak into virtuosity even as you admire the ease of their flow.

But over time, everything relaxes. Solos and group sections flourish in counterpoint, the technique and the dance settle more softly into each other. This is the repertoire of Cunningham’s I best enjoy: the play within the smaller things, the trio with linked arms who gallop and jump in parallel around the space like children, without at all becoming childish. I am particularly drawn to Flora Rogeboz, whose timing has both a softness and a surety, and who cannot help but smile as she yet again arrives to make the connection to her partner just so.

It is not an uncommon practice to take sections of Cunningham pieces and make of them something other, the wonderful Bride and the Batchelor’s exhibition played on a similar theme in London’s Barbican, but Event succeeds uniquely in being a work, and the works, and the work simultaneously. It is watchable in and of itself; to those in on the joke the individual pieces of repertoire come smiling to the light; the whole reassures you that the project of Cunningham, and Swinston, is out there, alive and well.

The silk panels by Jackie Matisse blow over Anna Chirescu in a delightfully unchoreographed moment of interaction. The dancers fill the space, prehensile feet flicking the floor, grasping it to bounce rhythmically in fourth position, the lights go out… and yet the dance is just beginning?

“between a place and candy: new works in pattern + repetition + motif.” Is a new exhibition at 1285 Avenue of the Americas, curated by Jason Andrew and organized by Norte Maar. The title comes from a poem by Gertrude Stein, who sought in her prose to “articulate a conscious presence where writing recreates itself anew in each successive moment.” …I must confess that for weeks I have been calling the exhibit “between my brain and candy,” so I excited was I by the number of elements in the event description that promised to render the experience absolutely delicious.

I was not disappointed. While individually distinctive, each work deeply explores some facet of pattern, repetition and/or motif, bringing an harmonious sense of curiosity to the collection. Resonant is the impression that pattern is both natural and human, micro and macrocosmic, its investigation fruitful, rich and yet strikingly simple. Mary Judge’s Bacio takes inspiration from decorative architectural motifs to bring us geometric flowers with the aged patina of stone, while Kerry Law’s Empire State Building Series draws back and watches a single building over time, using the stability of architectural repetition to track an ever-changing perception of the New York sky.

Many of the pieces have a vibrant kinetic energy, frequently through the play of optical illusion: the simplest of patterns, such as Joan Witek’s Massai confounding our mind’s attempt to render them static and comprehensible. Meanwhile the work that is most conceptually movement-oriented, Julia Gleich’s Combinatorics: a study of infinite or countable discrete structures becomes a meditative contemplation of atomic space, and the variation in cellular replication: a dancer’s feet tracing pathways like electrons around a nucleus, the gesture at once always the same and yet never duplicated.

I was gratified to see textiles emerging as a theme within the selection of works. While obviously generative, practices of knitting, weaving etc have only recently begun to be deemed creative, and their inclusion in several pieces added another layer of repetition to the overall design. Fiber arts, with their cultural link to the feminine, offer a hint of transgression to fine art practices, a challenge to the hierarchy of the traditional gallery; in this exhibition we do not forget that the canvas itself is an act of pattern.

The public opening of “between a place and candy” was bustling, making it hard to get as up-close and personal with some of the works as I’d have liked. My personal favourite, Libby Hartle’s Untitled #21 (Arrow) requires a close in viewing to truly appreciate the finesse with which graphite shading has been applied to create the concentric diamonds of the collage – I urge the viewer to take the time to find the units of the pattern, and consider them as individuals even as each work is enjoyed as a whole. In my mind the gallery becomes a living dialogue with the artworks: people stepping in and away, moving on to repeat the motif, recreating the experience of the works anew in each moment of changing space, between this place and candy.

Exhibition runs through June 12th 2015 at 1285 Avenue of the Americas Art Gallery