Dance is a medium that is strongly associated with
youth. When we speak of professional
ballet dancers we tend to think of young people with strong and supple bodies,
whose movement makes them very watchable.
However, professional dancers often retire from the stage in their
mid-30s and the process of ageing is commonly believed to make bodies ‘unwatchable’. Age and dancing (unless it’s tea dances at
the top of Blackpool Tower) just seem incongruous in our society. We are constantly bombarded with young and
agile bodies in popular culture and older bodies are considered ‘unsuitable’
for public viewing.
Justine
Coupland decided to explore this further in a very interesting and unique investigation
in which she joined a contemporary dance class comprising fifteen females, aged
between 42 and 74 (average age 55). She
was keen to find out whether dance could somehow help people to escape from socially
imposed negative ideas about ageing and attempted to answer this through
studying the language that they used to talk about their classes. During the
series of lessons, Coupland collected data through interviews conducted with
the class members and their teacher and ‘dance diaries’ that the participants wrote.
Coupland also participated herself, building up a
relationship of trust with the women which enabled her to prompt certain
discussions. One of these invited the class members to write diary entries
about the use of the mirror in class. During
the first lesson, the teacher had closed the curtains over the mirror, causing
much audible relief. Coupland felt that
this indicated that the students were accepting their own ‘unwatchability’. On analysing their written language, she
found that this seemed to be true. For
example, one participant, Sarah, disowned her own reflection by using definite
articles (the) instead of possessive pronouns
(my), writing All I see are the lines, the ageing face and it gets me
down. Another, Linda, objectified
her age-stigmatizing hands: I find I am
hiding my hands – they look so old!
However, it seems that not all the participants feel this
self-conscious. Jude felt quite cross
about not being able to see her body in the mirror. She used the first person I many times in her writing and clearly
shows a strong sense of self: When I was
young I used to look at myself in windows and outside (I was gorgeous). I hardly look at myself in shop windows
anymore, not that I have a problem with the way I look, but I don’t feel the
need to continually check. I feel more
secure in who I am…
Coupland then asked the dancers to sum up how they felt
after a class. One dancer, Nia,
volunteered the adjective elevated
and continued this metaphor explaining that dance builds you up and has an emotional
and spiritual side. Analysing this,
Coupland surmises that the movement of dance somehow seems to ‘remove’ these
women from their bodies and embue them with a sense of empowerment that they do
not experience in other aspects of their lives.
This sense is also reflected in the metaphor and following adjective
used here by Susan, when I’m dancing I
feel I’m in my own little bubble, invincible.
Coupland concludes that whatever culture we’re part of, we
live in and through our bodies. Our society
is prejudiced against the ageing body but, as Coupland found in her data, dance
can be a way for women to reformulate how they think about themselves in the
midst of such prejudice. There is no
denying that the women in her study still regret the passing of their youth and
feel unwatchable at times. However, they
also seem to be able to contrast the ‘look’ of ageing with deeper feelings that
dance gives them. It is fascinating and
enlightening to consider not only the fact that dance offers a way of escaping
from the restrictive sense of ageing in an increasingly young society but also
that it is the dancers’ language that reveals their true, often subconscious
feelings.
Coupland, Justine (2013) Dance, ageing and the mirror: Negotiating watchability. Discourse
and Communication 7(1): 3-24.
Doi. 10.1177/1750481312466477
This summary was written by Gemma Stoyle
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.