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After reading this long, month-old thread the past few days, I’d like to renew it as my first contribution to this forum, because this issue touches me where I live. After 16 years of being a dancer and 9 years of being a choreographer, in 1994 I published my first dance criticism and have since turned more and more of my energy to that end. Like Brenda Dixon Gottschild, I see dance through several lenses simultaneously -- dancer, dance-maker, historian. Like Gottschild, I watch dance from the inside out and from the outside in. Gottschild calls dance writing choreography for the page, a response to its primary source. So I believe that like my choreography, my criticism should have a style that marks it as mine. Yes, my ego wants people to read my writing because I wrote it. She says that a critic’s role is to understand, not to judge, to listen to the work, not just talk about it. In the words of James R. Kincaid, "The point … is to attend to the practices of knowing, rather than simply the object that is known."<P>So here are some meandering thoughts on what I think it takes to be a "well-informed" critic, in no apparent order – the beginnings of a manifesto.<P>I think it’s important to distinguish between critic and publicist/cheerleader/trendspotter. Here in NYC, from a money-driven need to sell tickets, the emphasis for dance writing in regularly published outlets has been increasingly on pre-show fluff features and personality profiles, not post-show analysis. For this sort of article, a dance-informed journalist is qualified, who might or might not have any critical abilities. <P>I admit to being multiply biased and I keep a list of likes and dislikes in my mental archive. For instance, I’m fond of fertile movement invention – a stage filled with activity -- and fall easily under its sway. I disapprove of a hairdo used as a choreographic element. That doesn’t mean I can’t evaluate dancers who have beautiful hair. I wouldn’t presume to speak authoritatively about ballet in general or "uptown" dance styles. After I do see a ballet, I ransack my library to research its origins and history. I see as much "downtown" work as I can and still feel I’m only getting the tip of the iceberg. I study program notes and artists’ biographies to see what teachers are popular, where influences come from.<P>Here’s a paragraph from my journal:<P>What does a critic do? He should identify the most individual qualities of each body of work. Place the work in its time. What were its influences, references, lineages? Scholarship must be airtight. Draw cross-disciplinary parallels. Compare and contrast. What did the piece communicate? Indeed, disregarding Sontag, INTERPRET. Performance ultimately happens between your own ears, acknowledge that subjectivity. Criticism must be filtered through what makes you you; otherwise it’s not writing, but typing.<P>I think it’s important to study the work of acknowledged masters and I have volumes of collected reviews by Croce, Denby, Jowitt and Siegel on my shelf to goad me when I feel blocked. My constant inspiration is Marmalade Me by Jill Johnston. I also read and re-read "On Your Fingertips" by Sally Banes and "Three Micro-lectures on Criticism" by Matthew Goulish.<P>I once heard a prominent dance journalist lament that we’re currently between major developments, that since the death of Balanchine and Tharp’s "Deuce Coupe" there has been little to interest her. This snobbery shocks me.<P>For me it is vital to stay connected to other areas of the dance community, not to remove myself to some critical distance. I still perform in my own work and others, and moderate an intimate performance showcase. Dotcom criticism has opened new avenues of communication. I haven’t yet received any death threats or marriage proposals, but since they can reach me through a simple hypertext link, choreographers do sometimes let me know what they think about what I’ve written or query me. I welcome this exchange.<BR>
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