An excerpt from Lighting Their Fires by Rafe Esquith:
"In some classes, particularly those involved with an art-related project like a play or a concert, standard procedure is to split up the students according to the roles they will play in the production. Drama teachers often rehearse only with the students they will "need" that day to go through a certain set of scenes. This happens in the wolds of sports and music as well. Teachers understandably employ this strategy to give more individual attention to the kids with whom they are working. However, this is a missed opportunity to teach something far more important than the content of whatever show or concert is in rehearsal.
When our class spends a year producing a Shakespeare play, the entire cast comes to all rehearsals. It is true that there are times when certain kids sit around for more than an hour watching others rehearse. There may be a dance practice or the blocking of a scene that involves only ten to twelve students while forty others watch. But the reason that everyone attends is to help the kids overcome their selfish tendencies. The key is something we discussed earlier: focus. Those who aren't part of the scene at hand are not allowed to drift or goof around; they need to pay attention. It is imperative that the kids spend time watching others work and fail and sweat before reaching excellence. After a while something wonderful happens--students begin to smile and take great joy in the achievement of others. It may be more "effective" to work only with specific children, but that is based on the assumption that the show is the most important thing. It's not. The kids are. Teaching them to root for their peers and embrace the progress of others is a far more important goal than a standing ovation that lasts for a few minutes. Seeing beyond oneself can last a lifetime."
I love the arts, but as I'm sure you have witnessed, it is so easy to get caught up in our own success, our own accomplishments, our own greatness. We lose something when we only focus on our own artistic abilities. And what we lose is something that comes from the basis of what art is... we lose our community. Is art not primarily a method of communication either to ourselves or to others or both? And when we are not communicating with ourselves nor others, what are we doing? And at that point, who cares what we are doing? I can appreciate great talent and great art, but if I become aware that the artist is only in it for the applause, I lose respect for the artist and love for the art. I can still appreciate how good it is, but I don't care any more. Do you agree?
This is not to say that I think all rehearsals should be done as Rafe explains. There are certainly situations, with adults especially, when it is unpractical or unreasonable to take time that could be devoted to helping put food on the table to sit watching others rehearsals for hours. However, I can see how it could be beneficial, and I can see how it could be considered vital for young children to learn this particular lesson. If everyone learned this lesson young, I wouldn't have to deal with disrespectful dancers at auditions.
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i think it is very easy to get caught up in admiration and praise as an artist. it is how we know when we have successfully communicated in our art: if there is a positive response, that means the audience has received and appreciated the message. so it's a tricky situation: if we've communicated well, we get praise, but if we get caught up in praise, we could fail to communicate.
ReplyDeleteThis idea is partially imlemented in the Opera program at UNC. Probably about half of my required rehearsals consisted of watching and learning and less than 10% participation. I think the author is spot on with the implications: it was a crucial experience in my develoment of rehearsal procedure and decorum and it allowed me to get out of my own head and enjoy my colleagues work.
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