Dance is one of the earliest and most natural ways for humans to express conflicts and emotions.
Throughout history, dance has been performed as a celebration of life, love and sexuality. According to a book I have borrowed from my 'soon-to-be closed down' local library, the Belly Dance developed from the practice of ancient fertility rites and has long been associated with the process of giving birth.
It is difficult to be accurate in tracing the development of the art of dance, since it must have its origins in the very beginning of human history. Our ancient forefathers celebrated their lives with song and dance, as they did when a period of hunger ended, when the sun returned after a long absence, or when some outside danger had been overcome. Ancient Egyptians 'danced their babies into the world' and performed dances at worship, at harvest time, for specific religious festivals and at betrothals, funerals and births. This tradition continues, world-wide in different forms. In some parts of the world, dance is performed as a rite in veneration of the Mother Goddess. Ferocious war dances are still enacted in some primitive societies.
This autumn the festival of Dance Umbrella 2011 brought a whole month of 'New Dance' to London and included work by some of the most innovative choreographers working today.
Caterina Sagna's Basso Ostinato was performed at The Place, off Euston Road, by a cast of three and with almost no props or scenery. The choreographer's notes tell us that 'three men sit, drink, smoke, dance and talk' and that the piece ends with the men 'stuck, looking for a way out, foraging through the masticated pieces of their first conversation.' These notes give little idea of the brilliance of the men's dance movements, nor of the apparently limitless energy required from the performers. The three dancers converse ( in several languages), act and dance, with such intensity, that one is left marvelling at the sheer ingenuity, skill and physical prowess on display.
Years ago, in the early 1960s Stravinsky's experimental ballet Persephone was performed in London, but as far as I know, has never been revived there, since it requires a dancer/actor who can speak Gide's words in impeccable French, and dance to a rhythmically difficult score. I remember that on the first night, Svetlana Beriosova's throat microphone unfortunately picked up messages from an outside cab driver, causing distress to the dancers, and much inappropriate mirth in the audience.
One book I treasure above all others is my copy of the illustrated History of the Russian Ballet in Western Europe 1909-1920 , which, in 1961, cost me my week's wages of £10. That period in the history of ballet has never quite been equalled, before or since, for the sheer innovative brilliance of the designers, choreographers, composers and dancers involved. At the time of my purchase I little guessed that I would one day be lucky enough to appear, as an actor, in the performances of Romeo and Juliet, which starred Margot Fonteyn and Rudolph Nureyev after the latter's defection from Russia. It was through that experience that I gained a deep respect for the performers, who inevitably suffer injury and exhaustion during performances, and who are required to convey a sense of effortlessness that is hard won.
Performances at prestigious theatres like the Royal Opera House are inevitably priced high, but today there are various schemes, such as the 'Chance to Dance' programme which are introducing schoolchildren to the art, by giving them dance workshops, and access to performances at one of the world's most beautiful theatres, whilst ensuring that the next generation of interdependent audiences and performers is nurtured.