Dance, Meaning, and Motion: A Study of Embodied Perspective
Dance, Meaning, and Motion: A Study of Embodied Perspective
Dance,
Meaning,
and
Motion
A
Study
of
Embodied
Perspective
Kristian
Georgiev
“Only
in
the
dance
do
I
know
how
to
tell
the
parable
of
the
highest
things....”
-‐
Friedrich
Nietzsche,
Thus
Spoke
Zarathustra
What
do
we
see
when
we
see
dance?
What
do
we
feel
when
we
dance?
Who
are
we
when
we
are
part
of
an
enactment
of
dance?
The
phenomenon
of
dance
brings
to
the
fore
key
ideas
about
the
nature
of
human
meaning-‐making,
the
role
of
our
fundamentally
corporeal
actions
in
the
world,
and
the
foundational
aspects
of
our
experiences.
Dance,
I
contend,
holds
immense
promise
as
an
object
for
study
as
well
as
a
subject
of
study
–
that
is,
a
source
of
insight
in
itself,
shedding
light
on
life,
movement,
and
meaning.
In
investigating
dance
thusly,
I
hope
to
show
the
importance
of
perspective.
One
way
to
understand
dance
is
as
a
study
of
perspective
–
the
perspectives
of
the
dancers,
of
the
audience,
and
of
the
choreographer;
the
perspectives
of
an
engaged
party
and
of
a
detached
observer;
the
perspectives
from
under
the
skin
and
from
outside,
from
within
and
from
without.
Specifically,
I
try
to
place
the
insights
given
in
scientific
physiological
accounts
(typically
third-‐person)
as
well
as
those
of
the
phenomenological
and
experiential
sort
(first-‐
and
second-‐
person)
in
the
context
of
one
another,
integrating
them
into
a
framework
based
upon
the
themes
of
movement,
experience,
and
mind.
“Man
has
always
danced”
This
phrase,
the
title
of
an
essay
by
Maxine
Sheets-‐Johnstone
(2009),
puts
dance
forth
as
the
first
art.
It
allows
us
to
view
dance
not
just
as
a
pan-‐cultural
phenomenon,
but
one
that
is
foundationally
human.
What
about
the
nature
of
the
human
form
allows
this?
Unlike
other
arts,
dance
leaves
no
trace,
no
record.
It
is
the
art
that
is
contained
completely
and
totally
in
the
present.
It
is
only
fully
present
at
the
moment
of
its
creation.
It
gives
you
no
manuscripts
to
store
away,
no
paintings
to
show
in
museums
or
to
hang
on
walls,
no
lines
of
words
to
be
printed
and
sold
–
nothing
but
the
fleeting
moment
manifest
in
its
unfolding.
Before
man
expressed
himself
with
pictures,
before
he
had
words
to
say,
before
he
had
letters
to
write
on
a
page,
he
had
his
body.
The
nature
of
dance
itself
is
written
into
the
human
form.
The
bipedal
body
is
an
essential
condition
for
dance
–
the
dance
of
bees
and
the
dance
of
leaves
in
the
wind
notwithstanding.
Bipedalism
enables
exceptionally
high
degrees
of
biomechanical
freedom.
The
possibilities
for
movement
are
simply
more
numerous.
Bipedal
bodies
have
more
unconstrained
parts,
parts
that
are
freely
moving
or
that
have
the
potential
to
move.
Having
but
two
appendages
occupied
in
a
basic
standing
posture
leaves
the
rest
unencumbered
with
holding
the
weight
of
the
body
up.
These
can
move
independent
of
the
support
of
the
bodily
trunk,
as
in
waving
or
stretching
one’s
arms.
Upright
torsos
are
also
positionally
unconstrained
in
the
fact
that
they
are
partially
self-‐supporting.
Torsos
can
twist
and
rotate;
heads
swivel
and
angle;
arms
can
swing
and
arc.
Upright
positionality
also
allows
for
degree
of
freedom
in
the
weighting,
moving,
and
throwing
of
the
legs,
as
in
kicking
or
wheeling
one
leg
about.
Quadrapedal
animals
can
certainly
move
about
in
a
variety
of
gaits
–
the
gallops
and
trots
of
a
horse,
for
example
–
but
they
are
physiologically
constrained
by
the
ultimate
need
to
support
a
horizontally
elongated
torso,
a
spinal
column
that
is
directly
tethered
to
the
quadrapedal
structure
of
movement.
A
bipedal
body
structure
hence
allows
for
more
degrees
of
freedom
in
the
expressive
and
sense
as
well.
The
human
form
allows
for
selection
from
a
palette
of
possibilities
for
movement.
These
possibilities
are
based
upon
the
qualitatively
corporeal
nature
of
dance,
which
in
turn
reflects
the
corporeal
nature
of
our
understanding
of
the
corporeal
meaning
we
find
in
ourselves
and
others.
An
examination
of
how
the
human
form
makes
use
of
the
quality
of
movement
to
create
meaningful
forms
shall
be
the
aim
of
this
paper.
Emotion
in
Motion
Examining
the
question
of
how
meaning
emerges
from
dance,
we
must
turn
first
to
the
question
of
how
motion
and
emotion
hang
together.
In
traditional
cognitivist
theories
of
mind
(Fodor,
1975),
theorists
hold
to
the
Cartesian
notion
that
an
emotional
state
is
separated
physically
and
functionally
from
its
expression
in
the
bodily
form.
In
this
view,
emotions
are
regarded
as
internal
states
or
processes,
wherein
the
environment
is
conceived
of
only
insofar
as
providing
stimuli
and
receiving
actions.
Griffiths
and
Scarantino
(2008)
propose
an
enactive,
situated
view
of
emotion
that
offers
a
contrasting
position:
that
“internal”
bodily
affect
and
“external”
expression
are
of
the
same
piece.
This
springs
from
the
insight
that
emotion
is,
above
all,
for
something.
Emotion
is
to
be
defined
in
a
social
context;
afer
all,
humans
are,
by
their
nature,
social
animals.
An
emotion
is,
by
this
account,
an
act
of
reconfiguration
of
a
person’s
relationship
with
his
or
her
social
environment.
It
follows
then,
that
an
emotional
expression
might
be
weaker
if
not
directed
toward
this
end.
This,
deemed
the
“audience
effect”,
is
readily
observable
in
cases
of
the
Duchenne
smile,
the
configuration
of
the
eyes
and
mouth
deemed
to
an
expression
of
genuine
happiness
(as
contrasted
with
a
smile
delivered
only
with
the
mouth).
Fernández-‐Dols
and
Ruiz-‐Belda
(1997)
observe
that
professional
bowlers
rarely
smile
after
achieving
a
full,
ten-‐pin
strike
when
facing
away
from
their
companions;
they
smile
much
more
often
when
facing
their
companions,
even
after
knocking
down
only
a
few
pins.
Emotional
expressions,
then,
are
not
the
outpourings
of
an
emotional
state
that
are
merely
observed
by
witnesses,
they
are
integral
to
the
very
nature
of
the
emotive
action
–
the
action
of
a
strategic
move
in
a
social
context.
If
the
reader
is
familiar
with
child
rearing,
this
squares
with
the
everyday
situation
of
surreptitiously
observing
a
baby
who,
after
experiencing
a
trivial
bump
or
fall,
begins
to
cry
and,
upon
looking
around
and
finding
no
adult
around,
calms
immediately
and
continues
to
play
contentedly.
The
behavior
of
sulking
is
one
of
seeking
certain
transactional
benefits
in
a
social
relationship.
In
finding
the
possibility
of
a
beneficial
transaction
impossible,
the
emotive
actor
must
rethink
whether
or
not
his
or
her
emotive
actions
are
worth
undertaking.
This,
however,
is
not
to
say
that
an
emotion
is
manifest
only
insofar
as
it
is
perceived
by
someone
else.
This
is
not
the
position
being
argued
here.
As
personal
experience
can
attest,
that
we
can
experience
emotion
and
produce
emotional
expression
when
alone
is
uncontested.
However,
the
situationist
approach
to
emotion
does
not
see
such
cases
as
pragmatically
or
functionally
equivalent
to
the
cases
in
which
it
does
not
play
itself
out
as
a
fundamentally
social
experience.
The
goal
of
the
situationist
perspective
can
be
seen
as
changing
the
framing
of
the
conversation
about
emotion.
Rather
than
taking
the
case
of
a
lone
rock
climber
hanging
precariously
on
the
edge
of
a
precipice
as
the
paradigmatic
case
of
fear,
the
situationist
takes
instead
the
case
of
a
young
child
expressing
distress
when
her
caretaker
is
near.
Furthermore,
this
perspective
argues
that
emotive
actions
are
not
conceived
of
or
“cognitively
processed”
as
propositional
states.
Under
the
traditional
cognitivist
viewpoint,
the
contents
of
any
mental
state
must
be
expressible
in
terms
of
a
propositional
attitude:
the
thought
that
“A
is
F.”
This
view
holds
that
all
productive
thoughts
must
be
systematically
organized
in
this
way.
The
situationist
perspective
denies
such
a
view,
at
least
in
most
cases
of
thought.
Even
in
complex
tasks,
such
as
cooking
a
meal
or
navigating
a
busy
street
crossing,
we
use
thought
and
patterns
of
activity
that
are
non-‐conceptual
and
instead
regulated
by
bodily
attunement,
social
norms,
abilities,
and
situational
context.
In
this
view,
the
ability
to
emote
is
not
characterized
primarily
by
the
ability
to
make
abstract
theoretical
judgments
and
inferences,
but
by
the
ability
to
skillfully
navigate
a
social
situation
by
using
the
range
of
actions
given
in
an
emotional
state.
An
outrageous
and
counterintuitive
consequence
of
adopting
the
cognitivist
view
is
the
claim
that
young
infants
and
non-‐human
animals
do
not
have
real
emotions
to
speak
of.
The
fact
that
emotion,
and
many
aspects
of
cognitive
sense-‐making,
are
not
conceptual
and
abstract
are
laid
out
in
Johnson’s
(2007)
Meaning
of
the
Body.
There,
he
argues
that
even
conceptual
thoughts
are,
and
must
be,
based
in
embodied
motion
and
the
aesthetic
characteristics
of
experience.
This
account
is
opposed
to
that
of
Fodor
and
those
like
him.
Johnson’s
view
is
nonrepresentationalist
and
does
not
divide
mind
and
body.
Under
Johnson’s
view,
experience
structures
meaning
in
that
it
has
its
foundations
in
dynamic
organism-‐environment
couplings,
situation-‐
and
goal-‐dependent
values,
pragmatic
concerns,
social
interaction,
and
embodied
feeling.
These
are
lines
of
effect,
causation,
and
interdependence
that
cross
borders
of
brain,
body,
and
world.
Note
how
Johnson’s
outline
readily
confirms
Griffiths
and
Scarantino’s
views
of
emotion
as
thoroughly
action-‐,
goal-‐,
and
interaction-‐oriented.
Phenomenology,
Experience,
and
Movement
Figure
1:
A
photograph
of
a
dancer
performing
Martha
Graham’s
Lamentation.
(Retrieved
from
http://asp.apgrd.ox.ac.uk/events/images/lamentation.jpg)
Intersubjective
Perception
Under
the
view
of
emotions
and
motion
developed
here,
the
dynamics
of
emotion
rests
on
the
fundamental
tenet
that
an
emotional
expression
is
not
simply
a
display
of
emotion,
but
is
the
emotion
itself.
Rescuing
emotion
from
the
Cartesian
separation
of
internal
state
and
external
display,
we
can
gain
some
perspective
on
how
it
is
that
our
intersubjective,
interpersonal
interactions
occur.
Ordinary
experience
gives
to
us
to
unmistakable
perception
that,
during
a
personal
encounter,
we
perceive
a
whole,
thinking,
feeling,
person,
rather
than
a
purely
apparent
mechanism
behind
which
an
unknowable
mind
lurks.
This
view
can
be
developed
using
Husserl’s
(1973)
phenomenological
account
of
“horizon”.
When
we
perceive
an
object,
we
sense
more
than
just
its
appearance.
Our
sense
of
the
totality
of
an
object
of
our
experience
rests
on
the
object’s
“horizon”
of
interactional
possibilities.
These
possibilities
are
perceptually
present
in
the
experience.
What
actually
appears,
combined
with
the
salient
possibilities
for
our
interactions
with
it,
about
it,
and
in
relation
to
it,
forms
its
perceptual
presence
to
us.
This
can
be
related
to
Alva
Noë’s
account
of
presence
explored
in
Varieties
of
Presence
(2012).
An
coin
lying
on
a
table
does
not
appear
elliptical
to
us
even
though
the
distribution
of
light
that
is
hitting
out
retinas
forms
an
ellipse.
We
use
the
practical
knowledge
of
the
range
of
sensorimotor
possibilities
in
order
to
perceive
it
as
round.
I
know
that
if
I
move
in
a
certain
way,
the
coin’s
projection
onto
my
visual
field
will
change.
Knowledge
of
my
sensorimotor
relationship
to
it
constitutes
my
total
perception
of
it
as
a
complete
object.
In
addition,
my
relation
to
it
must
be
based
on
a
pragmatic
grasp
of
its
possibilities
toward
some
end.
The
coin
does
not
simply
appear
as
present
in
terms
of
every
single
possibility
for
interaction
–
it
appears
in
terms
of
the
range
of
action
as
related
to
some
end
or
goal
I
have.
Thus,
the
coin
appears,
in
various
cases,
as
something
I
can
throw,
inspect,
or
exchange
for
a
pack
of
gum.
Ratcliffe
(2007)
suggests
that
we
can
use
Husserl’s
account
of
the
horizon
as
a
basis
for
our
understanding
of
other
people’s
movements
and
actions.
What
shows
up
for
us
is
not
an
outer
indicator
of
a
person’s
hidden
state,
but
is
rather
the
entire
presence
of
an
emotion
(or
intention,
motive,
belief).
Our
sense
is
composed
not
just
of
what
is
immediately
sensorily
available,
but
is
rather
the
associated
horizon
of
experiential
and
practical
possibilities
for
interaction.
Among
the
possibilities
offered
by
a
person’s
facial
expression,
gesture,
or
action
are
the
possibilities
for
communication
and
interaction.
Emotions
are
understood
if
not
through
this
interaction,
then
in
terms
of
it.
This
view
falls
in
line
with
a
line
of
thinkers
in
the
philosophical
and
psychological
tradition
of
enactive
perception.
A
dirt
path
does
not
simply
appear
as
there,
but
shows
up
for
as
in
terms
of
the
range
of
interactions
we
have
with
it
towards
an
end
–
it
appears
as
walkable.
In
Noë’s
account,
the
coin
appears
as
graspable.
A
chair
appears
as
sittable.
This
relates
to
the
Gibsonian
tradition
of
affordances
–
of
perceiving
objects
in
terms
of
the
possibilities
they
afford
for
action.
In
perceiving
the
meaning
in
interpersonal
interaction,
it
must
be
clarified
that
we
do
not
view
others
in
terms
of
tools
(at
least
in
conventional
cases).
We
view
people
as
more
then
mere
automata;
they
are
fellow
loci
of
experience.
Thus,
we
understand
others’
movement
as
meaningful
in
terms
of
the
their
potential
to
share
experiences
with
us.
Cole
(2001)
gives
details
of
patients
who
suffer
from
Möbius
syndrome,
a
congenital
neurological
syndrome
that
results
from
underdevelopment
of
the
VI
and
VII
cranial
nerves,
which
mediate
eye
movement
and
facial
expression,
respectively.
Cole
describes
patients
who
become
passive,
depressed,
and
generally
cut
off
from
the
richness
of
social
life
because
they
cannot
participate
in
the
expression-‐
and
affect-‐based
give
and
take
of
interpersonal
communication
and
understanding.
It
is
also
shown
that
people
who
suffer
from
Möbius
syndrome
experience
a
reduced
ability
to
feel
the
emotions
themselves
–
their
inability
to
motorologically
engage
and
express
deteriorates
the
experiential
totality
of
the
felt
emotion.
Without
the
reinforcement
of
the
full
range
of
motor
responses
and
interactions
we
receive
from
others,
these
individuals
have
a
limited
grasp
of
the
emotional
meaning.
In
this
way,
we
do
not
“mind-‐read”
in
passive
observation,
but
we
“body-‐
read”
in
terms
of
dynamic,
active
interaction
in
order
to
understand
one
another.
Our
perception
of
an
emotion
in
dance
is
an
active
phenomenon
in
this
way.
We
understand
the
movement
in
dance
in
terms
of
the
range
of
experiential
possibilities
it
affords
us
for
action
on
our
part.
This
interaction
need
not
actually
take
place,
but
the
movement
of
the
forms
onstage
is
observed
in
terms
of
possibilities
for
it.
The
emotional
expression
in
the
kinetic
form
of
the
dance
makes
the
emotion
fully
present
for
us,
because
it
is
based
upon
our
own
experiential,
skillful,
and
active
knowledge
of
it.
Noë
and
Forsythe
(2009)
discuss
the
experience
of
understanding
a
piece
of
artwork
by
Robert
Lazzarinni
–
the
form
of
a
gun
that’s
been
warped
in
such
a
way
as
to
make
it
appear
as
if
seen
from
a
different
perspective
than
the
one
that
it
is
being
seen
from
(See
Fig.
2).
The
art
itself
tempts
one
with
the
possibilities
of
seeing
it
clearly
if
one
moves
in
a
specific
way.
The
art,
though
a
static
sculpture,
is
a
choreographic
object,
one
that
requires
active
participation
in
order
to
be
understood
and
comprehended.
They
take
this
piece
art
to
be
a
paradigmatic
case
of
perception.
Viewing
dance
in
these
terms,
the
choreographic
bodies
onstage
are
but
one
piece
of
the
puzzle;
the
other
is
the
choreographic,
active
understanding
we
bring
to
the
encounter.
Figure
2:
Part
of
Robert
Lazzarini’s
“guns,
knives,
brass
knuckles”
exhibition.
A
photograph,
of
course,
does
not
do
it
justice.
(Retrieved
from
http://blog.honeyee.com/kaws/upload/R0020342-‐thumb-‐540x720.jpg)
Perspectives
into
the
Physical
and
Behavioral
Form
In
examining
the
experiential
and
phenomenological
nature
of
meaning
in
our
movement
experience,
in
ourselves
and
in
others,
we
gain
an
insight
that
is
descriptive
and
not
analytically
explanatory.
How
is
it
that
we
can
visually
perceive
beauty,
meaning,
or
emotion
in
the
form
of
a
moving
body
on
stage?
How
does
the
living
body
create
meaningful
movement?
How
do
accounts
and
perspectives
of
this
explanatory
sort
square
with
the
experiential
and
lived
account
that
we’ve
examined?
Bläsing
et
al.
(2012)
and
Bläsing,
Puttke,
and
Schack
(2010)
give
an
account
of
how
certain
neurocognitive
and
biomechanical
mechanisms
enable
and
structure
dance.
Dance
relies
on
numerous
task-‐specific
faculties
that
come
into
play
in
a
variety
of
other
physical
disciplines,
such
as
the
martial
arts
and
athletics
–
limb
coordination,
balance,
strength,
endurance,
etc.
Dance,
however,
also
relies
upon
an
understanding
of
the
performative
and
aesthetic
qualities
of
the
movement
one
undertakes.
It
is
worth
noting
here
that
the
optimization
strategies
and
tests
of
skill
used
in
many
of
these
empirical
studies
apply
primarily
to
ballet,
whose
ideals
of
beauty
and
ability
are
founded
on
graceful
movement;
a
minimum
of
wasted
movement;
feats
of
agility,
endurance,
finesse,
and
strength.
Indeed,
many
of
these
studies
use
ballet
dancers
as
their
primary
subjects
of
study.
Thus,
ballet
may
itself
be
more
amenable
to
a
more
orthodox
consideration
of
dancers
and
performances
as
objects
(morphologies)
in
motion.
Modern
dance,
however,
finds
its
truest
expression
into
expression
of
the
form
of
movement
described
earlier,
which
cannot
be
described
in
terms
of
biomechanical
motion
or
raw
technical
ability.
It
is,
as
a
consequence
of
this
and
several
other
important
principles,
much
less
structured
than
ballet.
Nevertheless,
this
is
a
simplistic
reduction
of
the
aesthetic
principles
that
are
inherent
in
both
schools
of
dance.
But
an
appreciation
of
this
fact
leads
to
the
conclusion
of
the
nonidentity
between
physical
bodies
in
motion
and
the
aesthetic
meaning
that
is
created
through
that
motion.
One
is
not
describable
in
terms
of
nor
is
it
reducible
to
the
other
(Sheets-‐Johnstone,
1979).
Jola,
Ehrenberg,
and
Haggard
(2011)
report
that,
with
increased
proficiency
in
dance,
somatosensory
function
appears
to
improve
in
physical
training.
Expert
dancers,
therefore,
should
be
more
reliant
on
proprioception
than
on
vision.
Empirical
studies
by
Golomer
and
Dupui
(2000)
show
that
this
shift
occurs:
in
dynamic
equilibrium
tasks,
dancers
perform
better
than
controls,
and
do
so
with
a
higher
reliance
on
proprioceptive
information.
Ramsay
and
Riddoch
(2001)
show
that
dancers
also
perform
better
than
controls
in
tasks
where
they
were
asked
to
match
their
placement
of
their
limbs
relative
to
a
picture
when
only
proprioception
was
used.
These
results
may
indicate
that
dance
training
enhances
the
task-‐relevant
faculties
associated
with
it
in
posture
and
balance.
The
apparent
effortless
motion
of
dancers
relates
to
the
optimization
of
motor
synergies
and
reducing
energy
cost
in
muscle
tension.
They
are
thus
more
capable
of
accurate
reproduction
of
the
shape
and
projection
of
certain
trajectories
(Wilson,
Lim,
&
Kwon,
2004).
Bläsing
et
al.
(2012)
report
that
dance
training
has
the
potential
to
influence
basic
functions
of
neurocognitive
motor
control,
posture,
and
equilibrium
control.
Building
upon
these,
dancers
develop
and
apply
these
abilities
in
an
explicit
and
extremely
deliberate
way
in
order
to
communicate
the
meaning
present
in
the
choreographed
dance
or
in
the
improvised
dance
they
create.
The
cognitive
mechanisms
that
underlie
the
learning
and
memory
of
performing
dance,
in
the
view
proposed
in
Bläsing,
et
al.
(2012)
exist
as
“coded
in
human
memory.”
Dancers
are
able
to
“encode”
longer
spans
of
dance
or
nonsense
movement
(Smyth
&
Pendleton,
1990).
These
authors
also
propose
a
model
for
spatial
and
movement
memory
wherein
the
goal
for
a
spatial
memory
is
a
target
in
space,
while
for
movement
memory
it
is
a
certain
configuration
of
body
parts,
indicating
something
of
an
distinction
between
the
two.
Dancers
tend
to
remember
movement
in
a
variety
of
ways,
including
“marking”
sequences
of
body
movement
with
hand
gestures,
which
serves
as
a
cue
for
recall,
as
well
as
verbal
description
and
recitation.
Long-‐term
memory
of
dance
is
also
sensitive
to
experiential
effects.
Bläsing,
Puttke,
and
Schack
(2010)
indicate
that
the
sorting
of
functional
movement
sequences
based
on
relevance
to
the
execution
of
a
specific
dance
showed
expertise
effects,
with
expert
dancers
doing
significantly
better
than
controls
or
experienced
amateurs.
It
is
also
shown
in
Bläsing,
Puttke,
and
Schack
(2010)
that
dancers
have
a
better
sense
of
how
a
certain
image
of
a
movement
structure
relates
to
the
proprioceptive
sense
of
motion
as
executed.
The
theoretical
explanation
presented
is
that
dancers
have
a
better
sense
of
recruiting
and
simulating
motor
representations
of
action
sequences.
Bläsing,
et
al.
(2012)
conceive
of
and
interpret
empirical
data
from
experiments
in
terms
of
an
implicit
theoretical
framework
of
dance.
This
is
expressed
in
Bläsing,
Puttke,
and
Schack
(2010)
as
primarily
a
theory
of
mental
representation
that
occurs
in
the
brain.
This
is
echoed
in
Hagendoorn
(2004):
“All
our
actions,
perceptions,
and
feelings,
are
mediate
and
controlled
by
the
brain.”
According
to
this
view,
separate
from
the
sensorimotor
planning
and
execution
mechanisms,
as
well
as
separate
from
upper-‐level
cognitive
and
emotional
control,
there
is
a
separate
motor
memory
that
functions
at
least
somewhat
autonomously.
The
planning,
memorization,
sequencing,
and
so
on
of
a
string
of
dance
is
a
separate
affair
from
the
bodily
instantiation
of
those
cognitive
mechanisms.
This
framework,
based
as
it
is
on
a
seemingly
Cartesian
separation
of
perception,
storage,
planning
and
action,
of
internal
and
external,
merely
cognitive
and
bodily
mechanisms
squares
neither
with
the
embodied,
enactive
view
posited
by
Johnson,
Scarantino
and
Griffiths
or
Noë,
for
example;
nor,
importantly,
does
it
seem
to
us
congruent
with
the
phenomenological
experience
of
dance
described
above.
Let
us
contrast
this
view
by
a
competing
one
offered
by
Maxine
Sheets-‐
Johnstone
(2011).
She
argues
that
kinesthetic
memory
–
like
kinesthesia
itself
–
is,
and
can
never
be,
a
purely
cognitive
mechanism.
Using
the
work
of
a
father
of
modern
neuropsychology,
Aleksandr
Luria
(1973),
she
makes
her
case.
Luria
considers
sequences
to
be
“kinetic/kinesthetic
melodies.”
Using
writing
as
an
example,
he
explains
that,
at
first,
writing
consists
in
memorizing
the
graphic
form
of
each
letter.
It
takes
place
through
an
isolated
sequence
of
motor
impulses,
each
responsible
for
only
one
element
of
the
graphic
structure.
However,
with
practice,
this
process
is
radically
altered,
no
longer
requiring
the
memorization
of
individual
motor
commands,
becoming
one
continuous
kinetic
melody.
This
melody
consists
in
(1)
kinesthetic
afferentation,
(2)
spatial
coordination
that
come
from
the
visual
and
vestibular
systems,
and
the
system
of
cutaneous
kinesthetic
sensation,
(3)
a
chain
of
consecutve
movements,
and
(4)
a
motor
task,
dictated
by
a
conscious
intention.
Voluntary
movement,
as
a
melody
is,
then,
an
orchestration
by
many
different
brain
systems,
as
well
as
bodily
mechanisms
tied
to
the
world.
Sheets-‐Johnstone
argues
that
kinesthetic/kinetic
melodies
are
not
separated
in
our
minds,
but
are
inscribed
in
our
bodies
as
dynamic
patterns
of
movement.
These
melodies
typically
flow
by
themselves,
in
that
they
flow
through
us,
rather
than
requiring
a
certain
attentive,
isolated
focus.
Riding
a
bike,
typing
one’s
shoelaces,
or
running
upstairs,
provide
key
examples
of
such
a
process.
The
learning
of
a
dance
are
not
instantiated,
acquired,
executed,
and
remembered
in
the
brain
as
isolated
commands
which
are
only
obeyed
by
the
body.
They
are
“in-‐the-‐flesh
kinematic
experiences.”
Dances
are
remembered
in
terms
of
the
qualitative
dynamics,
the
experiential
properties
of
tension,
linearity,
amplitude,
and
projection,
outlined
earlier.
These
dynamic
properties
do
not
constitute
the
movement
structure,
but
run
though
it
to
create
the
dance.
The
dance,
in
its
unfolding
in
attunement
to
this
kinetic
form,
creates
its
own
space
and
time,
rather
than
simply
occurring
in
space
and
time
that
inform
the
dance’s
execution
every
step
of
the
way.
Citing
an
account
given
by
Merce
Cunningham,
the
famous
dancer,
on
learning
a
dance
sequence,
he
explains
that
the
movement
sequence
became
embodied,
until
it
is
worn
“like
a
suit
of
clothes.”
Certainly,
the
motor
cortex
is
involved;
this
is
uncontested.
But
it
is
not
the
motor
cortex
that
is
being
attended
to.
What
is
happening
in
the
motor
cortex
in
the
process
of
learning
the
movement
sequence
is
contingent
on
how
the
dancer
chooses
move
–
that
is,
according
to
an
attunement
to
the
movement’s
particular
qualitative
dynamics
that
constitute
the
choreography.
The
meaning,
in
other
words,
is
present
“externally,”
that
is,
in
the
embodied
expression
of
the
qualities
of
the
dance,
but
lived
through
the
body,
like
a
well-‐fitting
suit
of
clothes.
Dance
Observation
and
the
Mirror
Hypothesis
As
explained
above
in
the
sections
dealing
with
the
observed
meaning
of
the
kinetic
form
and
intersubjective
nature
of
understanding
movement,
spectators
of
the
dance
are
themselves
actively
involved
in
the
creation
of
meaning
in
the
dance
performance.
The
discovery
of
the
mirror
neuron
system
gave
neurophysiological
grounding
the
idea
of
movement
perception
understanding
based
on
shared
experience.
Calvo-‐Merino,
et
al.
(2009)
gives
some
support
to
this,
specifically
in
the
realm
of
dance.
In
their
experiment,
groups
of
experienced
ballet
and
capoeira
dancers
watched
videos
of
dance
performances
of
both
types
of
performances
while
being
recorded
under
fMRI.
There
was
increased
activity
in
the
areas
supposed
to
be
part
of
the
mirror
system
in
dancers
while
watching
the
dance
that
they
were
trained
in,
suggesting
that
the
observed
quality
of
observing
others
is
based
on
one’s
own
capabilities.
It
has
been
argued
in
the
mirror
neuron
literature,
especially
by
Vittorio
Gallese
and
Feldman
(1998)
that
the
mirror
system
is
a
system
for
simulation
–
one
that
has
its
basis
in
“mentally
simulating”
observed
actions.
This
is
based
on
the
observed
fact
that
mirror
neurons
fire
both
during
the
execution
of
a
specific
action
and
during
observation
of
the
same
action.
Thus,
he
argues,
mentally
simulating
the
other
person’s
actions
allows
us
a
glimpse
of
a
private
mental
state
by
inferring
it
on
the
basis
of
one’s
own.
However,
this
neither
squares
with
phenomenological
experience,
nor
with
observed
empirical
phenomena
(Ratcliffe,
2007).
As
explained
above,
in
observing
a
meaningful
emotional
expression
of
a
person,
for
example
we
observe
the
totality
it,
not
simply
an
outpouring
of
the
person’s
radically
private
mental
state.
We
experience
others
as
agents
without
awareness
of
first
perceiving
them,
then
explicitly
adopting
their
perspective
or
point
of
view
by
using
one’s
own
mind
as
a
model.
But
this
still
leaves
open
the
possibility
of
an
implicit
sort
of
simulation.
However,
Gallagher
(2007)
points
out
that
mirror
neurons
fire
only
30-‐
100
milliseconds
after
visual
stimulation:
“What
is,
even
in
neurological
terms,
a
short
amount
of
time
between
activation
of
the
visual
cortex
and
activation
of
the
pre-‐motor
cortex,
raises
the
question
of
where
precisely
to
draw
the
line
between
the
act
of
perception
and
something
that
would
count
as
a
simulation.
Even
if
it
is
possible
to
draw
a
line
between
activation
of
the
visual
cortex
and
activation
of
the
pre-‐motor
cortex,
this
does
not
mean
that
this
line
distinguishes,
on
either
a
functional
or
phenomenological
level
between
perception
and
simulation
as
a
step-‐
wise
process.”
This
step-‐wise
conception
is,
according
to
Gallese,
an
essential
part
of
the
process.
Based
upon
these
considerations,
there
simply
no
time
or
place
for
the
discrete
and
complex
operation
of
mental
simulation.
The
theory
of
explicit
simulation
also
falls
into
a
Cartesian
separation
of
a
radically
private,
internal
mind
(both
in
the
case
of
the
“simulator”
and
the
“simulated”)
as
distinct
from
outward
behavior,
This
does
not,
however,
discount
the
validity
of
mirror
neurons.
On
the
contrary,
they
might
help
constitute
the
bridge
between
self
and
other.
If
we
think
of
perception
as
an
enactive
process,
we
might
think
of
the
mirror
system
as
part
of
active,
direct
perceptual
process.
We
directly
perceive,
and
do
not
infer,
the
meaning
of
an
action
or
gesture
and
its
distinctive
properties
as
an
intentional
behavior.
Sheets-‐Johnstone
(2011)
expands
on
how
mirror
neurons
come
into
play
in
observing
action,
specifically
in
the
appreciation
of
meaning
in
dance.
Her
examination
asks
foundational
questions
about
the
nature
of
the
system.
The
mirror
neuron
system,
she
argues,
is
the
neurological
correlate
of
the
corporeal-‐kinetic
tactile-‐kinesthetic
invariants.
Mirror
neurons
would
not
exist
were
it
not
for
a
reason
for
this
common
ground
between
the
actions
of
humans.
But,
she
asks,
where
do
mirror
neurons
come
from?
What
are
they
based
in,
developmentally?
This
is
premised
with
the
controversial
idea
that
we
are
not
born
with
mirror
neurons.
The
literature
on
this
topic
is
highly
speculative,
and
conclusive
evidence
has
not
been
given
confirming
or
denying
this
idea.
However,
Heyes
(2009)
gives
some
credence
to
the
idea.
She
argues
that
although
the
argument
that
the
imitative
capacities
of
newborns
presupposes
that
mirror
neurons
exists
at
birth
is
logically
sound,
there
isn’t
conclusive
evidence
that
this
is
the
case.
Reviews
indicate
that
human
infants
only
reliably
reproduce
one
movement
–
tongue
protrusion,
which
may
be
due
to
non-‐specific
arousal
mechanisms,
not
imitation.
Sheets-‐Johnstone
argues
instead
that
the
mirror
system
is
based
in
the
kinesthetic
experiences
of
one’s
own
moving
body
from
one’s
own
movement
experiences.
In
effect,
mirroring
is
mirroring
of
another’s
body
based
on
the
possible
movements
of
one’s
own
body.
Her
argument
is
that
the
meaning
of
corporeal
dynamics,
as
related
to
others’
bodies,
provides
the
bedrock
for
the
mirror
neuron
system
to
develop.
Questions
arise
from
the
workings
of
a
developing
mirror
system,
and,
argues
Sheets-‐Johnstone,
the
answers
point
to
the
felt
quality
of
kinetic
experience.
Before,
and
more
fundamental
than,
the
mirror
system,
is
the
meaning
of
movement.
We
feel
and
have
felt
our
tongues
in
our
mouths
before
we
stick
them
out
in
response
to
an
experimenter.
She
argues
that
the
mirror
system
is
a
developmental
descendant
of
the
neuromuscular
system,
that
develops
on
the
experiential
basis
of
learning
our
bodies
and
learning
to
move
ourselves.
I
am
not
expressly
endorsing
her
controversial
hypothesis
here,
but
instead
offering
it
for
consideration
as
a
question
of
how
physiological
systems
of
import
to
making
meaning
out
of
the
work
find
their
ground
in
the
meaning
itself.
That
is,
if
attunement
to
meaning
structures
in
the
environment,
be
they
based
in
other
people
or
not,
is
a
lived,
developed
phenomenon,
this
begs
the
question:
through
which
means
does
it
come
to
be?
I
surely
do
not
have
answer
at
this
point.
The
mirror
neuron
literature
is
highly
speculative,
and
outrageous
claims
abound
further
research,
both
of
the
empirical
experimental
sort
and
of
clarifying
conceptual
sort,
must
be
done
in
order
to
give
credence
to
any
one
conclusive
place
for
the
mirror
system
to
rest
in
a
framework
of
action
and
perception.
The
mirror
system
has
been
lauded
in
the
literature
as
a
neurological
link
between
action
and
perception
(Gallese
&
Feldman,
1998;
Hagendoorn,
2004).
However,
in
our
examination,
we’ve
seen
that,
not
only
is
perception
an
enactive
process
(Noë
2004;
2012),
but
that
movement
is
a
basis
for
lived
experience,
that
we
understand
others
and
ourselves
through
it,
and
that
we
establish
our
lived,
embodied
relationship
to
the
world
through
it.
Why
do
we
seek
the
basis
for
the
validity,
function,
or
primacy
of
the
body
in
the
brain,
instead
of
the
other
way
around?
Evolutionary,
developmentally,
and
experientially,
before
the
brain
was
about
anything
else,
it
was
about
the
body.
Conclusions
and
Reflections
on
Perspective
In
my
examination
of
dance,
I
hope
to
have
shed
light
on
the
natures
of
the
first-‐person,
second-‐person,
and
third-‐person
perspectives.
Phenomenology
and
the
mind
sciences
have
much
to
lend
to
one
another
as
compatriots
in
the
research
programme
of
understanding
human
experience.
Varela’s
(1996)
programme
of
“neurophenomenology”,
for
example,
has
its
goal
in
the
formal
joining
of
the
two
methodologies,
based
on
the
fact
that
they
depend
on
each
other
for
full
illumination
of
the
mystery
conscious
experience.
The
system
proposed
by
Varela
rests
on
the
principle
of
mutual
constraints:
without
the
naturalistic
perspective
we
would
not
have
any
explanatory
insight
into
the
mechanisms
of
the
human
form;
without
phenomenology,
first-‐hand
experience
would
either
vanish
or
it
would
become
a
mysterious
riddle
–
its
descriptive
nature
places
limits
on
the
kinds
of
claims
that
can
be
made
on
empirical
grounds.
Neither
purely
empirical
work,
nor
purely
theoretical
principles,
will
help
us
fully
understand
the
nature
of
human
experience.
There
is,
at
the
heart
of
such
a
united
framework,
an
appreciation
of
the
fact
that
there
is
a
circularity
in
the
cognitive
sciences:
the
study
of
mental
phenomena
of
an
experiencing
is
always
done
by
an
experiencing
person.
My
examination
of
dance
has
also
touched
on
the
enactive,
pragmatic
nature
of
human
experience,
the
relation
of
emotions
to
expression,
on
the
nature
of
our
intersubjective
understanding,
on
the
relationship
of
movement
to
other
life
processes,
and
on
the
aesthetic
principles
of
movement.
At
the
foundation
of
this
examination
is
the
body
–
its
lived
and
living
qualities,
its
animate
and
dynamic
relationship
to
the
self
and
others,
and
its
embedded
connection
to
the
world.
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