I may think the Denver Art Museum’s “Summer of Dance” is splendid, but the Denver Post’s critic disagrees.  He writes, “As a theme, ‘dance’ is, frankly, thin, a fringe topic that’s wholly without risk and lacks the kind of gravitas that a serious museum has the skill and resources to tackle.”  Other phrases are similarly dismissive:  “escapism,” “light touch,” “fun,” and finally, in response to the display of Anna Pavlova’s tutu – “This year, its feathery fluffiness feels like a metaphor for the whole lineup at DAM.”

As a dancer, it is difficult for me to see this merely as a criticism of the museum’s exhibitions – it seems to be a denunciation of dance itself.  In this critic’s eyes, at least, dance is ornamental, trivial, light weight — an art that lacks “gravitas.”   While I may disagree, I fear this writer’s views are reflective of more general public perceptions of the nature and value of dance.

Over a hundred years ago, when the painter Rudolf Laban decided to pursue dance, he confessed that he felt he had set his heart on “the most despised profession in the world.”  Dance may no longer be regarded as a profane or disreputable enterprise, but its profound value, its “gravitas,” has yet to be appreciated by art critics and the general American public.

The United States is not a dancing culture.  Yes, we have popular dance, theatrical dance, even competitive dance on television.  But most people do not participate in dancing on any regular basis.  In my view, dance is meant to be done.  Its value and meaning are only revealed through the experience of doing it.  Seeing is nice, but dance should not be merely a theatrical spectacle and certainly not a competitive sport.

Until we find a way to embed dance in the lives of everyday people, dance will continue to be dissed and dismissed as a fringe topic – feathery, fluffy, fun — and largely without serious value.

I am happy to announce the publication of Dance’s Duet with the Camera.  This collection of essays, edited by Telory D. Arendell and Ruth Barnes and published by Palgrave Macmillan, “takes on the difficult task of verbalizing how the live aspects of present, sweaty, energy-driven dancers might collaborate with the more staid, focused, and digitally manipulated forms of either 2D or 3D film.”

My own contribution to the book is a chapter on Fred Astaire.  This marvelous dancer’s best work was captured on film.  Moreover, Astaire exercised considerable control over how his work was recorded.  My study tracked the development of his inimitable style across the two decades of his Hollywood career, through a movement analysis of solos drawn from three films, one from early in his career, one mid-career, and his final staring role in a musical.

Dance’s Duet with the Camera began with a call for papers early in 2011.  It took five years and enormous perseverance on the part of the two editors to bring the book into being.  This was not due to any lack of commitment on the part of the contributors.  Rather the arduous journey of this publication from conception to reality reflects the difficulty of publishing books about dance.

Walk into any brick and mortar bookstore today and see how much shelf space is devoted to dance and/or movement books.  This will provide a pretty clear picture of the challenges that Arendell and Barnes faced.

Consequently, the publication of Dance’s Duet with the Camera is a great triumph.  It’s multiple and varied essays are written from the dancer’s perspective in five parts addressing “Site/Sight and the Body,” “Movement Beyond the I/Eye,” “Querying Praxis,” “Bodies, Spaces, Camera,” and “New Technologies: Dance as 3D’s Ultimate Agent.”