‘Dramaturgs’ Don’t Dance
by Stephen Johnson

Channelling Juba’s Dance explores the eyewitness descriptions of the dance of the William Henry Lane (stage name ‘Juba’), renowned for his novelty and skill in the late 1840s, and credited with introducing African-American movement to white audiences during his brief career (see Biographical Note on Juba). Eyewitnesses to his dance were enthusiastic in their praise, and moved to attempt description, even as they admitted the impossibility of accuracy. They imitated his rhythms in their speech, clinically described his movements, compared his steps with every dance they knew, from the highland fling to the whirling dervish’ to the toe-dancing ‘wilis’ of Romantic ballet. In their attempt to translate his extra-ordinary movement into words, they created some dynamic prose, and a longing to have seen his dance. They failed, of course, limited by language and life-experience and prejudice–but they failed spectacularly.

This brief collective draws together the skills of dancers from different traditions in order to reverse the process–they have read the documents and attempted to translate them back into movement. The goal hasn’t been to recreate Juba’s dance–we admit the impossibility, just as the original eyewitnesses did. What can be left of an original event–Juba’s dance–when its translation into words is translated back again, after the grammar’s changed? The purpose of the collective is to explore this question.

The dancers brought their different styles–tap, ballet, modern and contemporary–to their reading of the words. The process began with talk, each selecting the words, phrases and sentences that seemed most pertinent to their own dance, and that simply moved them to move. The balance of the process can be divided into two distinct parts. On the one hand, they collectively explored the rhythms and images of specific texts, in some cases trading and teaching each other, in some cases purposely juxtaposing styles. But we also left room for three solos– shown to each other, commented on, discussed–but personal explorations of abandon, grotesquerie, grace and precision, of Juba’s legacy in the tap tradition, and of the tyranny and frustration of the descriptions left to us.
The first thing a collective should do is to express what it was–a collective. This is a work-in-progress, and we emphasized ongoing rehearsal as much as we could, and left room for improvisation in each performance. Jennifer Johnson acted as facilitator for the group, meaning in this case, as I saw the process, the guide toward consensus. It was gathering of equals, really–except for the dramaturg, who doesn’t dance. As for that job– I prepared the raw textual materials, provided historical context, guided the first discussion, remained during rehearsals as a resident ‘authority’ (with all the baggage that comes with the word), and an external eye when needed.

Juba was an innovator, an imitator, and a parodist, channelling all his influences and innovations through his own peculiar hybrid performance to his eyewitnesses. This collective, in turn, channels those words back through movement to a new audience. Whatever is lost in the translation, it was a joyful exploration.