The following is a transcription of the presentation by Kendall Thomas, co-creator with William Forsythe of the performance installation Human Writes, followed by a discussion with Thomas Keenan and Mark Franko. Kendall Thomas's talk was given simultaneously with a screening of a silent video documentation of the work. (The reader can find moving images of Human Writes at <http://www.art-tv.ch/human_writes.html>). The panel “Rights to Move: Choreographing the Human Rights Struggle,” of which this discussion was a part, also included the participation of Leah Cox, dancer of the Bill T. Jones/Arnie Zane Dance Company. The event was curated and moderated by Mark Franko and produced by Alan Pally, and it took place at the Bruno Walter Auditorium of the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts, Lincoln Center, on October 12, 2009.

Faustin Linyekula stages what I shall call “geo-choreography” in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC). What is choreography if not an embodied practice that demands a continual reordering of space? Geo-choreography reorders the urban landscape choreographically without colonizing it. Instead, it establishes a network of architectural sites within that landscape whose effect I shall endeavor to describe in this essay. In 1993 Congolese choreographer Linyekula went into exile for eight years, during which time he attended university in Kenya and studied theater in London, only to be pressured by the British government to return to Kenya, where he was introduced to dance theater. In 2001 Linyekula returned to the DRC, where he founded his contemporary dance company, Studios Kabako, in Kinshasa, the country's capital. Working out of both Kinshasa and Paris, Linyekula established an international career as an experimental dance maker. After five years (in 2006) he transferred his company from Kinshasa to his hometown, Kisangani. Located in the northeastern DRC, this haunted urban terrain has been devastated by political violence, including that of the Second Congo War (1998–2003) and its aftermath. In trying to rediscover a sense of belonging for himself and for others, Linyekula is presently designing a network of studios for emerging artists throughout Kisangani. Linyekula's dance company and network of studios taken together, and housed under the same name of Studios Kabako, encourage a fluid movement between the social and the artistic.

Laurence Louppe once advanced the intriguing notion that the dancer is “the veritable avatar of Orpheus: he has no right to turn back on his course, lest he be denied the object of his quest” (Louppe 1994, 32). However, looking across the contemporary dance scene in Europe and the United States, one cannot escape the fact that dancers—contrary to Orpheus, contrary to Louppe's assertion—are increasingly turning back on their and dance history's tracks in order to find the “object of their quest.” Indeed, contemporary dancers and choreographers in the United States and Europe have in recent years been actively engaged in creating re-enactments of sometimes well-known, sometimes obscure, dance works of the twentieth century. Examples abound: we can think of Fabian Barba's Schwingende Landschaft (2008), an evening-length piece where the Ecuadorian choreographer returns to Mary Wigman's seven solo pieces created in 1929 and performed during Wigman's first U.S. tour in 1930; of Elliot Mercer returning in 2009 and 2010 to several of Simone Forti's Construction Pieces (1961/62), performing them at Washington Square Park in New York City; or Anne Collod's 2008 return to Anna Halprin's Parades and Changes (1965), among many other examples.

Dance is frequently described as being “about” movement. “Dance,” writes Ann Daly, “although it has a visual component, is fundamentally a kinesthetic art” (Daly 1992, 243). Audience experiences of dance can therefore be conceptualized in terms of responses to movement, most prominently in terms of what has been described as “kinesthetic empathy.” What does it mean, however, to watch, respond to, or appreciate movement? And how does the historical and theoretical concept of kinesthetic empathy relate to contemporary audiences' articulations of the experience of watching dance?

This article sets out to answer these questions by exploring different kinds of kinesthetic and empathetic responses and pleasures (and indeed displeasures) articulated by spectators of live dance across different styles and contexts. Pleasure is of particular importance to audience studies because it relates to motivations. Why do people seek out dance performances to watch? What are they looking for in the experience? In this context, we are interested in kinesthetic empathy as a mode of engaging with dance that can give pleasure to spectators and can be a strong motivating factor in why people choose to watch dance.

In 1916 the Russian impresario Sergei Diaghilev (1872–1929) took the Ballets Russes out of war-torn Europe for a tour across the North American continent. The tour was scheduled to run from January to April 1916, with short seasons in New York at the beginning and the end. As it turned out, the company returned for a second tour that ran from late September to January 1917, during which time, however, Diaghilev's former lover and principal star dancer, Vaslav Nijinsky (1889–1950), replaced him as director.

In this article I discuss the cultural differences at the heart of the Ballets Russes' failure to conquer America in 1916–1917, and why that failure had to be edited out of history. Specifically, I look at three aspects of the publicity and critical reception: elitism, patriotism, and modernism. The publicists of the company both misunderstood and underestimated their audience, but in dance research, their prejudices have been taken for granted. The “eye-witness accounts” of Diaghilev's employees and the histories of the company written in the first half of the twentieth century have largely gone unquestioned since, but contemporary primary sources of the North American tours tell a different story. By contrasting the first tour with the second, which received less publicity and better reviews, I emphasize the practical experience of touring in the New World and how differently American critics evaluated the achievements of the two Russian directors of the company—Diaghilev (for the first tour) and Nijinsky (for the second).