Action Replay - by Marilia Duffles

Reprinted with the very kind special permission of author Marilia Duffles, and the assistance of FT editor Pat Hooper:

http://news.ft.com/cms/s/5dd08b34 c2b0 11d9 b509 00000e2511c8,ft_acl=,s01=2.html
FT.Com Financial Times
Arts & Weekend Saturday May 14 2005

Action replay
By Marilia Duffles

Why is dancing so enjoyable to watch? What is it about bodies moving in unison that is so captivating that it drove Degas zealously to paint the human body in all its poses?

Scientists have been investigating such questions for years and it seems that the rapt audience is right inside our head. Research shows that when subjects watch films of ballet or capoeira (a Brazilian martial art), the same areas in the brain are activated as those used to execute the movements. When watching motion, the brain “moves” along every step of the way, so much so that it stimulates physiological responses such as increased oxygen consumption to the point where the weak hearted might suffer a heart attack merely watching strenuous sports.

This is why mentally “going through the motions” is just about as good as rehearsing to improve a dancer’s or sportsman’s performance. To observe, then, is to dance.

How does the brain do this? Giacomo Rizzolatti and his colleagues at the University of Parma, Italy, discovered that the brain has specialised cells, aptly called mirror neurones, which mimic the actions of others. They illustrated this ability through “point light” experiments, in which the subjects watched films of people dancing, cycling and doing other activities in a dark room with tiny lights attached to their shoulders, elbows, wrists, knees and ankles. The observers were easily able to identify the actions of the performers, as well as their intentions, emotions, beliefs, genders and personalities from the point lights alone.

This finely honed perception of human movement, the ability to read body language and readily to perceive and express our own is known as social intelligence. This capacity to navigate our social world means we can work out “where others are coming from” (are they angry or happy?) or “where they are going” (are they coming to yell at me or to ask for help?) so we know how to react accordingly.

To mirror others is to empathise, using the same mental rehearsal of the body language of others that allows us to put ourselves in someone else’s shoes. Some of us fail miserably, while others can really “feel your pain”. It enables us to recognise a friend at a distance just by their gait and subconsciously to acquire the mannerisms of our spouse. And it is why, like yawning, dancing is contagious.


So when someone says, “I’ve got rhythm”, they probably have the graceful social movements of an extrovert that translate well on the dance floor. Equally, you can probably count on the socially inept introvert to jerk about to the music.

If empathy is the great imitator and lubricant of social life, it naturally plays the same role in dancing. A Nureyev and Fonteyn pas de deux, or Baryshnikov on his own, moves audiences with the empathic splendour of fluid narrative movements. As a dancer with the National Ballet of Washington, I used to feel that dancing was sensing the audience moving with me as I used my body to express not just a series of thoughts and feelings as motions, but the primal exhilaration of doing so successfully.

Why does music make us want to dance or even tap our feet in time? According to Petr Janata, a neuroscientist from UC Davis, University of California, after a mere 15 seconds of listening to music, the very regions in the brain involved in mimicking and composing action sequences (mirror neurones again) are strongly activated even when we’re forced to lie still. Ezra Pound expressed it well when he said: “Music begins to atrophy when it departs too far from the dance.”

We also have an internal metronome that moves us to synchronise our gestures with subtle rhythms not only to the music but to the beat of our partner or others on the dance floor. It’s no wonder that we get a kick out of watching folk dances, the ultimate in synchronised body movements, or the powerfully “swaying” Libiamo (”Let’s drink”) chorus of Verdi’s La traviata, says Steven Brown, a neuroscientist at the University of Texas.

Marching to the beat of the same drummer allows us to demonstrate our innate need to communicate sympathetically with others. It is at the core of dance therapy, in which a co ordinated companionship is created between therapist and client, recreating what should have been happening in the outside world.

But is dance purely an art form or did its form follow function? Brown argues that our prehistoric ancestors used it to communicate vital needs such as those required during a hunt. The gestures were a para language that our culture lacks today and endures only in rituals such as the ceremonial dances of Tibetan Buddhism or Kenya’s Masai initiation.

The beauty of dance is its ability to transcend cultures with its universal language of human movement. Indeed, the story of Thai khon (classical mask dances) and the classical Cambodian apsara dancers (whom Rodin proclaimed to be supreme examples of human nature) is easily understood well beyond its borders.

The beauty of the science of art is the discovery of the essential purpose behind man’s artistic endeavours. It gives meaning to art, and is why it takes two to tango.