Modern dancing and dancersFlitch, J. E. Crawford (John Ernest Crawford)
History
Modern dancing and dancers
Flitch, J. E. Crawford (John Ernest Crawford)
Ballet; Dance; Dancers
It may have seemed that in England, at any rate until the recent
revival, the dance had fallen quite out of relation to the other arts.
It appears to have been familiar only with the music of the streets. It
has given no inspiration to sculpture or painting. It has been
shamefully cold-shouldered by serious artists. But perhaps it has not
been so entirely uninfluenced by popular British art as may seem to be
the case. It has certainly worshipped at the same shrine of prettiness
and gentle undisturbing emotionalism. It has always been laudably bent
on pleasing; it has shunned violence and extremes, even if in so doing
it has had to submit to be vapid; it has been artful only in order to
appear artless; if never profound it has always been respectable. Surely
in their rendering of happy incidents, their genial flow of spirits,
their easy and pretty accomplishment, many of the pictures of official
British art are inspired by the same spirit as that which animates the
Tiller Girls!
CHAPTER VIII
THE REVIVAL OF CLASSICAL[1] DANCING
When an art grows infirm, there always comes a time when the
practitioners hold council over the failing body and prescribe the
remedy. And the remedy is always the same--they recommend a return to
Nature. Art must go back to its nursing mother, nourish itself again
upon the elemental milk from which it drew its earliest life, and be
made whole.
Towards the close of the last century, the dance was sick with a fever,
sick unto death. The mild and genial palliatives of Mr John Tiller were
unavailing. In vain he taught his pupils to smile, to shun the movements
of delirium, to simulate a childish glee, to be cheerful even though the
heavens should fall. The result too often showed that a dancer might
smile and smile and be a failure. Her naturalness was not really Nature.
Her passion for honeysuckle and the mountains was as little sincere as
the morning blush upon her cheek. The dance could not be tricked back to
health by such artless deceptions. It demanded the more radical cure of
a genuine return to nature.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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