In African societies where art and goodness are synonymous, the critique of dance can be an art form in and of itself. The evaluation of dance is a critique whereby gender roles, style, carriage and technique are appraised. Typically, for the dance to be judged worthy of praise, the arms must move in time with the legs, the facial expression must be somber, the costume must be impeccable and the entire dance must be wildly expressive and pleasing. The critique itself becomes a part of the dance, as essential to the rhythmic movements and performance as the drum and dancer themselves. Perfection is the standard; any variance from that bedrock can lead to ridicule and shame for the artist.
African Americans have unconsciously inherited the same propensity for harsh critique. Any informal or formal performance in the Black community is sure to be accompanied by opinion, unsolicited and inexorable, dissecting every measurable variant. From family reunions to urban street corners, from college fraternity lines to smoke filled clubs, the best dancers are revered and the not so good dancers feel the wrath of the omnipresent community standard of perfection. Seemingly, in the Black community, one doesn’t even have to be a good dancer in order to recognize and critique one. Even children know at an early age to practice and rehearse their dance moves to perfection before debuting them in public. The Apollo Theater’s Mr. Sandman serves as the modern day amewa (Yoruba: knower of beauty) or artistic sentinel while the audience passes judgment on the worthiness of the contestants. The Africana eye seems to be able to assess and appraise the components of metered, rhythmic movement on both sides of the Atlantic. In Brazil, at the now infamous Bailes Funk, where urban dance and spectacle mirror the dance and drama of the North American ghettos, dance moves and their subsequent critique are ever prevalent. As in traditional Africa, if you are a good dancer and don’t have the proper clothing, hair, or display a certain sexuality, your performance is devalued. Where the corruption of the ideal of dance critique occurs is in placing value on a person based on their expression, and not of the expression itself. The bad dancer becomes a valueless person; the exceptional dancer with the incorrect clothing becomes equally as insignificant a person. Not limited to the professional arena or dance itself, any and all forms of expression are subject to the critique of the masses. The art of critique has metastasized into the malicious act of criticism, for the sole purpose of self-aggrandizement.
Ephebism, or youthfulness, is universally admired in Africa as an aspect of fine form.[1] The strength and vitality that are associated with youthful vigor and stamina are seen as traits to take delight in. Antithetically, the wisdom that comes along with seniority in traditional African culture is also revered, however the elderly tend to exhibit the behaviors and countenance normally associated with pubescence. Supple and fluid movements associated with youth are the ideal in African dance and rigidity is seen as an abomination. Afro-American dance and expression has shown similar reverence throughout its history. From the swing and jive dancers of the prohibition period to the poppers and lockers of the soulful 1970s and the limber, contemporary choreography of today, the African American body has performed contortions that appear to defy skeletal constraints. Even the untrained eye can see the similarities in African movements displayed in the dance styles of the capoiera and the nimble gyrations of the Dan, Tiv, and Luba peoples of Africa. The flexibility of the Caribbean limbo dancer displays the very same tresor de souplesse, or flexibility, that is admired in traditional African art and dance. Veering from the African homage to youthfulness and its attributes is the concurrent Western adaptation that stipulates that while youth is revered, the elderly become despised. Deference goes to the immature and age becomes a liability. The elderly have ceased to move with youthful agility, but simply acquiesced to their role of useless and immobile pillars.
The descending direction in melody, sculpture, and dance, or the attribute of “getting down,” recognizes the trend in movement from high to low. Thompson states:
. . . the use of the “get down” sequences in the dance, where a performer or a group of performers assume a deeply inflected, virtually crouching position, thus moving in proximity to the level of the earth, is important in African and found in a number of societies of the western and central portions of the continent. Here is field evidence: Anago Yoruba_ ”step . . . finished at a level superbly low”; Dahomean Yoruba-“if the drum strikes strong, you bend down” . . . .[2]
It is worthwhile to note that even the vernacular of African Americans reflects an inherent propensity for this lower movement. “Man, that guy was really getting down on the dance floor,” can translate figuratively to mean that he was a very good dancer and literally to suggest that he was incorporating moves that had him on the floor. Anyone old enough to remember the show “Soul Train” can certainly remember that the most imitated dancers in the Soul Train dance line were the men who got down on the floor with their dance moves. The indication of gender in the aforementioned example is significant in that the best dancers in this society are still considered to be men. Formal Africana dance usually either begins or ends on the floor and most assuredly incorporates multi-elevations in its posturing. The break-dancers of the early rap 1980s utilized cardboard to make the streets suitable for their dance moves. The hypnotic rhythms of reggae lend themselves to getting down with dances like the butterfly and other sexually suggestive dance maneuvers. It is that displaced and diseased perception of sexuality however that can be attributed to the axiological metamorphosis of the term “getting down” from signifying a connection to the earth to base vulgarity. It has only been in the more recent decades that sexually suggestive dance has come to be a measure solely of attractiveness and to double as sexual foreplay.
The examples of a transcendental African aesthetic surfacing on very distant shores demands further investigation. On the haute couture catwalks of high fashion, statuesque ebony models undulate with the elegance of rural African women carrying loads upon their heads, replicating the stability or straightness seen in many forms of African art. The “human beat box” phenomenon of the 1980s, whereby an individual used his voice box to create sounds, resonates with the traditional African concept of suspending and preserving the beat. The music styles of drum and bass and electronica, both Afro-European creations, preserve the tradition of “dancing many drums.” Any Black dj worth his weight in vinyl knows that he can get the crowd at a party moving by leading the call and response tactic of, “If I say house. . . You say party,” or some such chant. Recent dances like the Cha-Cha Slide and the immortal Electric Slide imitate line dancing that can be seen on the continent. The largest body of African American art that exists today might be identified as graffiti. Its “loud” colors and abstract imagery certainly fall in line with the traditional continuum of vividness cast into equilibrium. African Americans do not produce textiles but certainly lean towards patterns and colors that reflects visibility and luminosity. While only an infinitesimal portion of the African American population can trace their lineage back to a specific tribe in Africa, an even smaller number can say that the standards and practices of that particular culture were knowingly passed on. Yet those very same practices and traditions somehow phenomenologically manifest themselves with uncanny similarity in trends and numbers too great to dismiss throughout the Diaspora. Arguably, maybe hidden within the genetic makeup of the melanin rich descendants of the Maafa, there is a marker that identifies meter and movement, rhythm and cadence of African art and motion.
1 comment:
Fascinating read, well researched. Definitely a whole lot to consider. Thanks for tying together some loose ends of our frayed existence in this land.
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