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Dance, Meaning, and Motion: A Study of Embodied Perspective

This document discusses dance from an embodied perspective, exploring how dance sheds light on human meaning-making and experience. It argues that dance is a uniquely human art form that has been practiced since ancient times. Dance leaves no physical record but exists only in the present moment. The human form, particularly its bipedal structure, is well-suited for dance as it allows for a high degree of biomechanical freedom and movement of the torso, head, arms, and legs. This bodily freedom facilitates rich expressive possibilities in dance.

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0% found this document useful (0 votes)
96 views24 pages

Dance, Meaning, and Motion: A Study of Embodied Perspective

This document discusses dance from an embodied perspective, exploring how dance sheds light on human meaning-making and experience. It argues that dance is a uniquely human art form that has been practiced since ancient times. Dance leaves no physical record but exists only in the present moment. The human form, particularly its bipedal structure, is well-suited for dance as it allows for a high degree of biomechanical freedom and movement of the torso, head, arms, and legs. This bodily freedom facilitates rich expressive possibilities in dance.

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bill hifolo
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© © All Rights Reserved
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
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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  

  Phenomenology,  I  contend,  has  a  particular  perspective  to  lend  that  can  


enrich  our  study  of  human  experience.  At  its  core,  the  phenomenological  tradition  of  
Husserl,  Merleau-­‐Ponty,  Sartre,  and  Heidegger,  European  thinkers  of  the  20th  
century,  examine  the  nature  of  experience,  rather  than  metaphysical  claims.  While  
analytic  philosophy  of  mind  has  traditionally  been  thought  of  as  the  most  germane  
to  the  cognitive  sciences  –  guiding  debates  about  the  issues  of  dualism,  
reductionism,  and  functionalism  –  phenomenology’s  project  is  quite  different.  It  
pushes  such  issues  aside,  for  they  tend  to  become  highly  technical  and  abstract,  
losing  sight  of  the  subject  of  study:  experience  itself.  Phenomenology’s  goal  is  to  
establish  a  firm  basis  for  considerations  on  the  way  things  are  experienced  rather  
than  concerns  that  may  obscure  and  confuse  this.  Issues  of  how  or  whether  the  
brain  causes  consciousness,  how  or  whether  sensory  information  is  processed  and  
represented,  and  mechanisms  of  how  motions  are  created  are  not  the  objects  of  
study,  for  they  do  not  have  a  certain  characteristic  presence  for  the  person  doing  the  
experiencing.  Phenomenologists  neither  expressly  affirm  nor  deny  such  claims.  The  
phenomenological  project  is  a  first-­‐person  description  of  experience  in  terms  of  how  
it  has  or  creates  meaning  for  the  perceiver  (Gallagher  &  Zahavi,  2008).  
  Phenomenology  has  had  a  tenuous  relationship  with  the  cognitive  sciences,  
particularly  in  light  of  the  mid-­‐20th  century  cognitivist  schools  of  thought  that  
conceived  of  the  person  in  the  behavioral  and  mind  sciences  as  an  information-­‐
processing  device,  rather  than  fundamentally  a  creature  that  makes  meaning  
(Bruner,  1990).  However,  phenomenological  perspectives  are  now  enjoying  
somewhat  of  a  surge  in  interest  and  relevance  due  to  the  recent  embodied  and  
enactive  turn  of  theorists  such  as  Francisco  Varela,  Evan  Thompson,  and  Eleanor  
Rosch  (1999),  Shaun  Gallagher  and  Dan  Zahavi  (2008)  and  Alva  Noë  (2004,  2012).  
These  researchers  and  thinkers  seek  insight  not  just  into  how  mechanisms  give  rise  
to  the  living  body,  but  also  into  how  the  lived  body  makes  meaning.  Theories  of  
embodiment,  after  all,  must  have  their  foundations  in  this  lived  body,  not  just  in  
explanatory  accounts  of  morphologies,  physiologies,  or  mechanisms.  If  we  leave  
experience  behind,  we  leave  behind  our  existence  as  creatures  with  not  just  feelings,  
motivations,  and  thoughts,  but  felt  feelings,  motivations  and  thoughts.  In  this  light,  
we  must  consider  movement  as  an  experienced,  meaningful  phenomenon,  alongside  
study  of  it  as  a  measured,  externally  observed  phenomenon.  Before  we  recognize  
and  conceive  of  ourselves  as  creatures  of  a  taxonomically  recognizable  morphology  
composed  of  such  and  such  parts,  we  experience  ourselves  as  animate  creatures,  
dynamically  motivated  and  attuned  to  the  world  around  us.  We  move  in  ways  that  
create  “synergies  of  meaningful  movement”  (Sheets-­‐Johnstone,  2010b)  –  that  is,  
movement  that  is  both  meaningful  to  us  and  to  others.  
  When  we  bracket  our  experience  in  the  light  of  phenomenological  practice,  
we  adopt  a  definition  of  movement  that  transcends  a  simple  “change  in  position.”  
We  turn  instead  the  quality  of  the  felt  experience  of  movement.  Sheets-­‐Johnstone  
(1980;  1999)  aims  to  describe  the  quality  of  these  felt  experiences  of  self-­‐movement  
through  four  qualities:  tensional,  linear,  amplitudinal,  and  projectional.  At  the  risk  of  
becoming  bogged  down  in  philosophical  details,  I  shall  briefly  summarize  her  
description  of  each  of  them.  But,  as  we  must  keep  in  mind,  our  interest  in  these  
accounts  extends  beyond  an  appreciation  of  them  in  themselves.  Our  discussion  of  
them  must  include  an  appreciation  of  phenomenological  accounts  as  the  necessary  
counterpoint  to  a  physical,  analytic  account  of  movement,  which  we  shall  turn  to  
later.  
  The  four  qualities  enumerated  above  (tensional,  linear,  areal,  projectional)  
are  separable  only  analytically,  and  form  a  complex,  holistic  relationship  with  each  
other  that  inheres  in  any  experience  of  movement.  She  describes  these  qualities  as  
creating  a  dynamic  of  “virtual  force”  that  is  distinct  from  components  of  actual  
biomechanical  force.  Tensional  quality  has  to  do  with  the  felt  and  experiential  effort  
in  movement.  It  makes  itself  manifest  to  us  by  the  dynamic  of  the  movement  itself,  
not  in  the  muscular  contractions  that  constitute  its  causal  sequence.  The  linear  
quality  of  felt  movement  can  be  described  as  both  the  linear  design  of  the  body  as  it  
moves  and  the  linear  pattern  of  the  body  as  it  moves.  The  linear  pattern  is  a  result  of  
the  direction  in  which  the  moving  body  is  projecting  itself.  The  amplitudinal  quality  
of  movement  is  understood  as  the  felt  expansiveness  and  contractiveness  of  the  
body  as  it  creates  the  felt  space  of  movement,  and  thus,  the  magnitude  of  the  
movement.  The  projectional  quality  has  to  do  with  the  manner  in  which  we  release  
this  force  or  energy  –  abrupt,  sustained,  ballistic,  etc.  Linear  and  amplitudinal  
qualities  constitute  the  spatial  aspects  of  movement  while  the  projectional  and  
tensional  qualities  constitute  its  temporal  aspects.    
  By  her  account,  the  form  of  dance  does  not  exist  in  a  particular  place  and  
time.  But  this,  again,  is  a  conflation  of  the  dynamics  of  movement  with  a  description  
of  the  change  in  position  of  objects.  The  dynamic  qualities  of  movement  create  their  
own  space,  time,  and  force,  aspects  that  give  it  its  distinctive  qualitative  character.    
  Sheets-­‐Johnstone  first  conceived  of  these  in  relation  to  dance,  so  they  were  
initially  examined  in  relation  to  the  experience  of  dancing.  The  virtual  force  of  
tensional  quality  and  its  contrast  with  actual  force  is  exemplified  in  the  following  
quotation:  “For  example,  in  going  from  an  upright  position  into  a  ‘hinge’  position  to  
the  floor  –  flexing  the  knees  so  that  the  body  tilts  diagonally  backwards  until  the  
shoulders  touch  the  floor  –  the  dancer  exerts  a  great  amount  of  force;  yet,  the  
apparent  force  of  the  movement  is  not  necessarily  great.  The  body  may  appear  to  
‘sink,’  the  movement  may  appear  almost  effortless.”  With  reference  to  linear  quality,  
“For  example,  the  leg  and  torso  may  be  held  in  a  vertical  position  while  the  arms  
move  sequentially  up  and  down.  The  linear  design  of  the  body  is  the  total  
directionality  configuration  of  the  moving  force:  the  ‘constant’  verticality,  and  the  
‘variable’  curvilinearity.”  A  dance’s  amplitudinal  and  areal  quality  through,  for  
example,  a  diagonally  sweeping  outstretch  of  the  limbs,  gives  rise  to  an  experience  
of  the  movements’  expansive  and  open  size  (Sheets-­‐Johnstone,  1980)  
  Note  that  these  experiential  bases  give  weight  and  meaning  to  the  visual  
forms  that  the  choreographed  and  executed  dance  creates,  forms  and  shapes  bigger  
than  and  more  than  the  simple  movement  of  a  body  on  a  stage.  As  a  visual  
phenomenon,  dance  may  be  seen  as  a  study  of  movement  or  of  objects  in  motion.  
Only  by  taking  the  former  viewpoint,  and  appreciating  the  qualitative  dynamics  of  
the  experiential  side  of  the  movement  we  see  do  the  qualities  described  herein  
make  themselves  perceptually  present  to  us.  
  In  dance,  the  dancers  create  meaning  in  their  movement  through  
manipulation  and  execution  of  these  experiences.  The  affective,  emotional  qualities  
of  a  dance  are  derived  from  the  perception  of  an  emotion  as  “expressed  bodily  
feelings  that  course  through  the  body  in  dynamic  ways…[They]  both  move  through  
the  body  and  move  the  body  to  move”  (Sheets-­‐Johnstone,  2011;  original  italics).  A  
dance  may  have  meaning  relative  to  a  narrative  of  a  dance  performance  with  a  given  
story  (as  in  Swan  Lake),  or  this  or  that  movement  might  have  certain  connotative  or  
denotative  aspects,  but  it  is  the  dance’s  qualitative  kinetic  dynamics  that  
communicate  the  emotional  meaning  of  the  movements  to  the  audience.  While  the  
dancer  may  not,  in  any  sense,  be  feeling  emotional  feelings,  and  may  not  expressly  
emote,  the  form  of  the  dance  creates  an  affective  aura  of  its  own  –  it  may  be  somber,  
bouncy,  explosive,  smooth,  sharp,  attenuated,  etc.  –  an  aura  which  may  be  
characterized  in  terms  of  the  qualities  outlines  above.  The  kinetic  form,  in  this  way,  
is  congruent  with  the  emotion,  because  it  reflects  the  experiential  dynamics  of  an  
affective  state,  an  “inner  life”,  or  with  the  “appearance  of  feeling”,  relatable  by  the  
viewer.  The  visual  and  experiential  form  is  not  something  that  the  dancer  moves  
through,  it  is  something  that  moves  through  her.  This  form  is  beautifully  defined  as  a  
“kinesthetic  melody.”  It  is  both  a  kinetic  and  kinesthetic  reality  –  a  felt  bodily  
dynamic  for  the  dancer  and  a  visual  bodily  dynamic  for  the  audience.    
  Sheets-­‐Johnstone  takes  as  a  case  study  a  famous  dance  choreographed  by  
Martha  Graham  called  Lamentation  (Graham,  1976  –  a  video  of  a  performance  is  
accessible  via  the  reference)  (See  Fig.  1),  a  daring  and  moving  piece  that  elucidates  
the  relationship  between  kinetic  form  and  emotion.  It  is  described  as  a  “moving  
sculpture  of  grief.”  The  dancer,  however,  is  not  enveloped  in  a  lamentation,  but,  
through  form,  is  elaborating  its  experiential  dynamic  quality  through  movement.  
The  movement  dynamics  “echo”  –  but  do  not  replicate  or  represent  in  any  direct  
way  –  “the  bodily  pangs  of  grief,  the  keening,  wailing  cries  of  a  body  that  grieves,  the  
felt  spasms  and  warpings  of  a  body  in  pain.”  Graham  (1976)  tells  us  a  moving  story  
of  being  approached  after  a  performance  by  a  woman  who  had  clearly  cried  after  
seeing  the  performance,  the  first  time  she  had  grieved  for  her  recently  killed  son.  
The  woman  said  the  performance  allowed  her  to  see  that  her  grief  was  “honorable”  
and  “universal.”  The  clothing  worm  during  the  piece  is  a  large  tube  of  material,  a  
form  that  warps  and  shapes  with  the  movements,  “as  though  you  were  stretching  
inside  your  own  skin.”  In  viewing  it,  we  perceive,  in  a  visceral  way,  the  inner  
experience  of  a  body  in  grief.  The  dance,  via  the  experienced  kinesthetic  form  of  the  
dancer  and  the  perceived  kinesthetic  form  by  the  audience,  manifests  the  emotional  
act  of  lamentation.    
  The  emotion  is  perceptually  present  in  the  kinetic  form  for  the  audience.  It  is  
not  inferred,  but  is  rather  directly  perceived  as  identical  to  the  emotion.  Note  the  
correspondence  the  enactive  view  of  emotions  described  above,  and  the  lack  of  
distinction  between  the  manifestation  of  the  emotion  and  its  expression  through  the  
form  of  the  dance.  The  emotion  is  not  most  manifest  as  a  private  state  of  grief  –  it  is  
most  powerfully  and  most  viscerally  felt  and  understood  in  its  expression,  as  the  
story  of  the  grieving  woman  attests.  
 

 
 
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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