Every Friday and Saturday night during the 1930s and 1940s in southern Alberta everybody danced, or so the story goes. And that is about as far as “the story” goes. Serious considerations of popular dancing are largely absent from existing historical records of this time and place, despite the apparent omnipresence of dancing in so many people's lives. Social dancing happened on a large scale at a pivotal time for community formation in Canada's West, when profound social changes occurred as the Depression gave way to World War II. What was going on besides and through and because of all that dancing? And how to investigate such an ephemeral phenomenon?

Today, I can still stand in the Trianon Ballroom in Lethbridge, Alberta's third largest city and the center of the region I will discuss here. The Trianon first opened its doors as a dance hall in 1931 and ceased operating in 1961. In the 1930s and 1940s literally hundreds of little Trianon-like halls graced small Canadian prairie towns, although most of these dance halls have since disappeared. In Lethbridge alone, four major dancing establishments were packed with patrons dancing to live bands on as many as three nights a week, the YMCA offered hostess dances for military personnel, the Kiwanis club gave teen dances every Friday night, and one could dance at the Masonic Hall and in local hotels (Viel 1998, 24).

In eighteenth century Philadelphia the evolution of cultivated society closely followed-or rather kept step with-developments among the English elite. Colonists considered Bath, England to be “the centre of refined Colonial Society”, and those who could afford the time and expense visited there in order to attend plays, participate in assemblies, and absorb the latest trends in fashion and culture. Following the British model, one important attainment of any colonial gentleman or lady was grace of physical manner, evidenced in good part by skill in dancing. These manners and skills could best be appreciated in assemblies of polite society, assemblies where refined conversation, dancing, card-playing, and supping frequently provided the forum for social mingling.

Philadelphia was among the first of American cities to formalize such gatherings when, in 1749, a group of gentlemen who led the city's political, professional and mercantile life joined together in establishing the Philadelphia Assembly, sometimes also called the Dancing Assembly. As early as 1753 the fame and gentility of this assembly had spread to England, for Walter Ewer, Jr. wrote from London to his cousin William Sword in Philadelphia to ask if the latter had ever attended the city's Assembly, which Ewer wrote was reported to be “a fine one”. Another source recalled that “the dancing assembly among the gentry had high vogue, partaking, before the Revolution, of the aristocratic feelings of a monarchial government”.

This article examines Alma Guillermoprieto's use of embodied knowledge in her memoir Dancing with Cuba. Descriptions of embodiment reveal her struggle to reconcile the values of modern dance with Ernesto Guevara's symbolic New Man—the ideal revolutionary used to promote physical labor as the means to a socialist utopia. I argue that Guillermoprieto solves this crisis by turning toward language, in particular language that activates the kinesthetic imagination—an archive of embodied experiences dancers rely on to engage choreography. An emphasis on embodied knowledge in the memoir shows how crucial dancing bodies are to the literary archive of the Revolution.

By renaming the Choreographic National Center in Rennes and Bretagne as the Musée de la danse in 2009, the French choreographer Boris Charmatz has indirectly raised new questions on both museum and dance ontologies, opening up the possibility of an enriched interdisciplinary discourse on the relationship between movement-based arts and museums/art institutions. This essay explores the changing museum and dance landscape over the past few decades, considers how museums have been theorized, and their relationship to, and engagement with, audiences; and asks what role choreography and dance can play in this new institutional context.

The article analyzes an artistic project that is situated on the dividing line between the realm of performance and of exhibition. The Musée de la Danse in Rennes, France, contests the dichotomies of object and experience and introduces a notion of exhibition-as-performance. In so doing, the “Dancing Museum” suggests new perspectives on, and comprehensions of, the materiality involved in both museal and performance-based modes of presentation.

This article examines the late Indian choreographer Chandralekha's final work Sharira (2001), an intense duet between a woman and a man, as a challenge to heteronormative codes that govern the performance of Indian sexuality. This challenge is relayed in two ways: first, through a haunting triangle motif of the yoni (vagina in Sanskrit), that is evoked repeatedly through the controlled parting of the female dancer's legs, reminding us that her body is both a harbinger of life and a center of sexual agency. Second, the piece critiques heteronormativity through an über-slowing down of choreographic time, which emphasizes the materiality of the female body and the extremes it can execute. The article proposes that these two choreographic strategies are efficacious in rewriting heteronormative codes surrounding Indian sexuality only because they work interdependently. It is only because the female performer is able to part her legs in hyper-slow-motion that the evocations of her yoni move beyond the realm of an objectified, sexual body part that is to be occupied and consumed by a male partner. Instead it becomes a powerful emblem of her ability to contain and spawn sexual desire as well as to create, sustain, and give birth to life.

This article interrogates the status of virtuosity in dance through the co-constitutive paradigms of race, gender, and class, accounting for both the term's emergence in journalistic arts discourse and how “queer of color” critique refines its meaning in and for contemporary performance culture (Roderick Ferguson). Virtuosity operates at the supposed border between popular and “high” art, and “Soul” and the mechanical, defining the location of the virtuoso's potential transgression. Discourses of virtuosity in performance are linked to connotations of excess, and examining formal and sociocultural aspects of virtuosic dance reveals under-recognized heterogeneity generated by vernacular influences on high art. Founded in 1994 by Desmond Richardson (as muse) and Dwight Rhoden (as choreographer), Complexions Contemporary Ballet exemplifies how much of “Africanist” choreography resists performing “ontopolitical critique” through stillness, privileging speed, stylistic hybridity, and technical intricacy (Brenda Dixon Gottschild, André Lepecki). I propose and develop the term choreographic falsetto, likening Richardson's virtuosity to that of black “Post-Soul” singers such as Prince, on the one hand, and nineteenth-century virtuoso musicians and composers such as Liszt, on the other (Francesca Royster). Richardson performs queer black masculinity by exploiting hyperbolic technical skills typically reserved for women, expanding upon choreographic aesthetics initiated by George Balanchine, William Forsythe, Alvin Ailey, and Ulysses Dove. Calling upon Theodor Adorno and Max Weber's theories of virtuosity and charisma in music and religion (in addition to Ferguson, Royster, Gottschild, Lepecki, Thomas DeFrantz, Nathaniel Mackey, Joseph Roach, Susan Bernstein, and Gabriele Brandstetter), I account for a historically and cross-culturally prevalent (if relatively forgotten) aspect of virtuosity, namely its position at the meeting point of gender, religion, capitalism, and individualism.

This article examines Film Studies of the Dance, a dance film created in 1935 by Blanche Evan, Lionel Berman, and David Wolff. The film premiered Evan's new system of dance training, Functional Technique, to the 1930s New York revolutionary dance community. I analyze the film and Functional Technique inside of the debates over technique and content that preoccupied left-wing modern dancers in this period. Ultimately, Film Studies of the Dance emerges as a collaborative attempt by Evan, Berman, and Wolff to create new approaches to dance and film that would unify form and content to further socially conscious art making.

In 2016, director George C. Wolfe and choreographer Savion Glover created Shuffle Along, or, the Making of the Musical Sensation of 1921 and All That Followed, a backstage musical about the 1921 show Shuffle Along, noted for its all-black cast and creative team. Although Wolfe proclaimed dance to be the most important aspect of the original musical, his production does not mention Shuffle Along’s original choreographer, Lawrence Deas, nor does it examine the labor of choreography. These omissions expose how dance on Broadway remains subordinate to other aspects of a musical, thus reproducing racist and sexist logics about embodied performance.

Few Britons could resist the powerful rhetoric of Winston Churchill, whose words to the House of Commons in June 1940 (Churchill 1989) called upon all men, women, and children to do their utmost to serve the war effort. During the worst of the bombings, from 1940 to 1941, in what came to be known as “the blitz,” London and its populace were transformed. J. B. Priestly noted that “for once, [we] felt free, companionable, even—except while waiting for the explosions—lighthearted.” Fear, anxiety, the sense of struggle, or so the story goes, pulled Londoners together and united them in a sense of camaraderie that broke down centuries-old class barriers (Ziegler 1995, 165–166).

Among the commonly accepted myths of the British participation in the Second World War was this one—perpetuated by British authorities and some later historians—that all classes and all people were united in common cause against the enemy. While true on some levels, the picture of an island nation joined in communal sacrifice during the “People's War” masks the underlying societal anxieties that muffled differences of opinion and threatened those who did not adopt accepted notions of patriotism. Vera Brittain, writing at a key point during the world conflict, noted that the Nazi invasions of Europe “produced a rising clamour against unpopular minorities throughout England,” and that “both government and people are temporarily seized by a panic of suspicion” (Brittain 1941, 33). In his examination of the twentieth-century manifestations of British nationalism, Patrick Wright, for one, noted that exclusionary impulses, emerging under the threat of foreign invasion, were linked to subtle but prevalent patterns of anti-Semitism prior to and during the war years (Wright 1985).

This article explores Randy Martin's approach to dance studies at the dawn of the discipline in a set of essays written between 1992 and 1998 regarding dance, ethnography, and representation. On one hand, the Marxian basis of Martin's analysis is foregrounded in this article as Martin's working method, and on the other, a theory of the audience (the relation of the spectator to the dance) is identified as what links dance to socialism in Martin's thought; this is the main theoretical motor of his use of dance as an analytic method for social thought.