SAINT Paul spoke of it as a temple, the Greeks described it using images of music harmony and the social democrats of the 1930s referred to it as a machine. Metaphors for the body have had varied sources and uses through time.
When discussing sickness and disease, we commonly use military metaphors, referring to the body as a fortress invaded by disease or as an army fighting infection etc. But our body metaphors have a far wider significance and are indicative of more general attitudes in society and politics. In the post modernist world of the 1980s and 1990s, appearance and image are both supreme values - a stark contrast to the desire to control the inner body which was of more concern in earlier centuries.
The changing yet constant manipulation of the "perfect" female image is well documented and in recent years the "perfect" male body has left behind its bodybuilder extravagance and is entering our visual currency at an increasing rate. In her contentious book, The Beauty Myth, Naomi Wolf traces the promotion of the ideal of "thin is beautiful" through the late 20th century and argues that images of female perfection are used as a political tool against women, yet Wolf's polemic in site of its narrow focus on relatively affluent Western women, manage's to ignore the dancer (and particularly the ballerina), probably the most enduring "perfect" body for the past two centuries.
Sylph like, willowy, slender and svelte, the ballerina has had to meet demands of artistic directors, critics and audiences expectations of weight and shape. More significantly, as Susan Leigh Foster of the University of California writes, although fashion in the early 19th century had created of all women a kind of Spectacle, theatrical dance constituted one of the few cultural events that framed women and, specifically women's bodies, for view".
By its very nature dance continually frames both male and female bodies for view and choreographers have always had to choose how to present their dancers' bodies. These concerns have not only been dictated by the choreographer's aesthetics but have also been influenced by the prevailing, social and sexual politics. In an age where the thin, perfect body is one of the constants in the vocabulary of media image makers, how are Irish dance companies framing their dancers?
Rubato Ballet chooses an unashamed classical model. Its recent production of Dark Pigeons at the Samuel Beckett Centre opened with two female dancers performing arabesques in long dresses - a design classic in ballet - and left one in no doubt as to, the idiom and ethos. Here, reminiscent of Giselle, we had the male trying in vain to "attain" the ballerinas, who were suggesting "two dark pigeons emerging from their graves". As with many ballet choreographers, Fiona Quilligan has distinct male and female vocabularies and a clear division of labour along gender lines. In Dark Pigeons the man looks, searches, offers flowers but it is the female who, through the classical steps and representational gestures, attracts our gaze, as the "beautiful" danseuse. In Signals the male dancer lifting the ballerina and the introduction of the pointe shoe with its attendant demands on the female dancer, succeeded in keep ing the ephemeral female central to action.
WITH these images predominant it is difficult to avoid the one dimension ballerina.
The attempt to introduce flamenco in Dark Pigeons seemed contrived and only worked when the drama dictated it, such as when Malachy Bourke lay prostrate and Fiona Quilligan danced quasi flamenco steps, a dramatic resonance of the very honourable Spanish view of mourning and with it a new, more assertive, and proud (rather than vain) woman.
With the emergence of differing dance forms (modern, jazz, post modern etc.) though the 20th century body politics were inseparable from artistic concerns. To use the body metaphors of writer Gigi Berardi, the body seemed less an object d'art but took on aspects of a finely tuned machine, reflecting more general thinking, notably architect Le Corbusier's assertion of a house being a machine for living in".
While these extended the range of expression of the body as a body, they are also just as limiting in attempting to shatter the "perfect" body myth. Only in very few cases have choreographers managed to present the dance as other than a "perfect", finely trained and toned body.
Dance Theatre of Ireland's Body Travels Time, running until Saturday at the Project Arts Centre, should perhaps have given us a clear reflection of this, offering us "a collage on the body as the sentient vessel for our disparate passions, a means for interaction or isolation, for confrontation or communion, an instrument within which we can be confined or released and which ultimately in its mortality, we leave behind". This comprehensive examination of the body was unfortunately portrayed through very predictable forms and while the gender roles were not as, obvious in ensembles, the "man lifts woman" motif became prevalent during the long sequence of duets.
Blok and Steel's choreography in the second piece. Deseo, was far more clever, using obvious pop culture references as a mirror to the audience. Man/woman interactions smacked of realism and were certainly more equitable. Rather than the wholesomeness of Body Travels Time, we got "normal" people, trying to be cool and funny but displaying and, through Muirne Bloomer, giving voice to trust rat ions and a lack of self confidence to which we can all relate. The performers were still flamed as dancers and like the ballerina, were attempting to win our gaze, but we could feel comfortable with their gaudy clothes while at the same time, aspiring to their athleticism. This was image manipulation at its slickest and although the individual devices and overall effect may have been cheap, they were nonetheless effective.
The most enigmatic image of the dancer in the work of the three companies is found in the work of Irish Modern Dance Theatre whose Perfect State ran recently at the Project. While choreographer John Scott is not afraid to portray absurdity, there remains a cool aloofness in performance. We find clear gender roles (more "man lifts woman") and often balletic movements but never the direct appeal to our gaze. Eye contact with the audience is kept to a minimum and although we can be drawn in by the normality of putting your legs through the arms of your coat, we never forget that these are dancers with trained and toned bodies.
Constant media bombardment of perfect bodies, in time, alters how we feel about our own bodies. The recent upsurge of interest in the spiritualism and new age practices has, been matched by the obsession in outward appearances. In his book on bodybuilding, The Perfectible Body, Kenneth Dutton states that whether 21st century Western man "will seek, or wish, to re define himself in terms appropriate to his society by recourse to the inner self rather than to outward symbolism - to follow the way of Narcissus rather than that of Hercules is impossible to predict".
Attitudes may change towards bodybuilding, yet we will probably always demand perfect dancers. To paraphrase critic John Berger: Audiences look at dancers. Dancers watch themselves being looked at. This determines not only the relationship of audiences to dancers but the relationship of dancers to themselves. Disassociation from The Beauty Myth is not going to be easy.
