This research explores how my craving for external validation clouded my sense of agency. It questions how this craving becomes intertwined with an inability to make informed decisions regarding the body by supporting the choice to act only in ways that result in praise.

‘External validation’ here refers to detrimental effects on becoming a confident artist as “when we do not experience validation we can feel disconnected from our feelings, leading to…questioning our self-worth” (Friedman, 2021). I recognise that, for a dancer, outside observation can be a helpful tool for progress and the success of a performer is typically deemed by audience satisfaction. This research does not completely disregard these factors, however, it suggests that fixating on external judgment alone can become harmful. Friedman (2021) writes that when one begins to “rely exclusively on external validation, we lose touch with ourselves as we hand our self-worth over to factors that are entirely beyond our control.”

We are also products of today’s western culture where we live in a world that often seems to revolve around external validation. Striving for external validation reinforces the capitalist ideology of a reluctance to rest, creating an unsustainable work ethic of overexertion to comply with the demands of the system. The result of this capitalist lifestyle creates a cultural disconnection which Drew Leder (1990) describes as a “disembodied style of life”. Furthermore, in an educational setting, complying with the dominant and submissive dynamic of a teacher-pupil relationship breeds the notion of relying exclusively on external validation, whereas being in a position of personal agency helps shift this hierarchical structure to that of a collaborative relationship.

Chapter 1: Tracing it Back

When referring to the subject of ‘disco’ one may traditionally think of a 1970’s groove-based dance style. However, when talking about ‘disco freestyle’, I am instead describing an intensely athletic, rapid-paced and rather gymnastic dance style usually performed by young girls. Phil Vinter (2012) describes the training, which involves contorting the dancers’ bodies into “near- impossible positions and performing unbelievable feats of flexibility, stamina and strength for more than six hours a day” as well as being emotionally demanding. This breeds a relationship between the teacher and pupil which caused me to listen to their authority over my own body. Throughout my eight years of disco freestyle training and competing, a huge emphasis was placed on gaining popularity. Not only was everyone competing against one another on the dance floor but also for the affection of the teacher during rehearsals. Emilyn Claid (2006) describes how “the hierarchical teacher-pupil dynamic establishes a pattern of reward and punishment, praise and criticism to encourage the physical disciplining” (p.42). The following reflection illustrates this experience:

I felt a sharp pain in my knee as my Patellar ligament tore, the floor still vibrating under my feet as the surrounding dancers continued jumping. I feel my mum’s arms scoop under my tiny body and whisk me off the dance floor to safety. I was furious. Why would she sabotage me like that? She was overreacting, being overprotective, I was fine! I needed to continue or what would my teacher say? I felt an intense tightness creep into my chest and numbness in my fingers as I began to panic. I could foresee my teacher’s reaction and feel my position as the favourite slipping through my fingers as the sharp pain in my knee throbbed.

During this training, I developed an “addictive attachment” to this teacher-pupil dynamic, a relationship of “dominance and submission that coaxed the desire to work” (Claid, p.43). As the hours of rigorous training, the demands on my body and teacher’s expectations, increased, so did my injuries. I would continuously push through pain as dancers have been conditioned to believe that we will be rewarded by our teachers for the pain that we experience (Claid, p.42). I was taught that watching a class or modifying movement was never an option: you were either ‘in’ (dancing at your best) or ‘out’ (absent from the studio). Due to the fear of missing out and the lack of attention I would receive, I would force myself to be ‘in’ even when I was severely injured or too ill to dance.

Later during my training, these unhealthy traits became apparent when I observed my panicked attitude towards injury and fear of modifying movement. However, “this intelligence, or this form of listening to what your body can do… is a form of skill that you acquire with professional experience” (ibid), a skill that I was yet to gain. When attending my advanced dance training course in Newcastle, the teacher appeared to have their favourites, or in my case, least favourites. According to David Emerald’s (2016) therapeutic Model “The Drama Triangle” I viewed my role in this relationship as “victim” and the teacher as “persecutor”. The therapeutic model describes how labelling oneself as the “victim” acts as a coping mechanism, as one is creating “made-up strategies to manage its anxiety about what it doesn’t like or want” (ibid). I began to notice a pattern in the way I was affected by authoritative figures. This pattern continued throughout my Masters; I would refrain from vocalising my thoughts, which is something I have a reputation for, present a serious facade to avoid being perceived as immature and soften my northern accent so as not to be regarded as an uneducated Geordie. Christine Caldwell and Bennett Leighton (2018) describe how when interacting with someone of a higher social authority one may involuntarily change their eye contact, posture and voice. In my case, it was my own embodiment of the “victim” role in “The Drama Triangle” which perpetuated this feeling of oppression in me.

I’ve been overthinking about what is needed of me. I’m not sure I’m enough.

Referring back to my time on the advanced dance training course in Newcastle, I observed how the other dancers and myself collectively adopted a ‘one size fits all’ image for what we believed productivity to look like: standing up straight, nodding profusely when being talked to by the teacher, refraining from leaning on the ballet bars or performing impressive warm-up stretches. Experience Bryon (2014) describes this as a “performance persona” and is apparent when someone wishes to be perceived as a “good student” and is eager to “exhibit” their skills. After enough repetitions of such behaviour, one will be quite excellent at trying and pleasing, allowing one to become “disconnected” from their body and personal movement style.

Chapter 4: Validation to Collaboration

In theory, if I can enter a new creative process with a different view on the hierarchical choreographer-dancer dynamic, the outcome should also be positively affected. For the first time I am no longer in education and the choreographer Gary Clarke is not my teacher. In noticing this shift, I feel able to leave some of my baggage at the studio door as “once you recognise and articulate your intentions, you can move forward” (Bogart, 2007). Given my history of comparing myself to other dancers, I knew that being a recent graduate in my first paid role surrounded by established industry professionals might provide a situation for unhealthy comparison. Anne Bogart (2007) describes how “we tend to compare ourselves to other people’s versions of success rather than our own, [which] is a false gauge and a waste of emotional energy.” One morning, the group and I were engaging in an improvisational score, when the instruction to “do what your body needs” was given. I was determined not to allow myself to slip into a comfortable state of performative improvisation purely for the validation of the choreographer and to feed my perceived standards of success.

I paused and shifted my awareness to the task: To “do what my body needs.” What did my body need at that moment? I closed my eyes, laid on my back and hugged my knees tightly to my chest. I began to slow and deepen my breath as I allowed my knees to gently sway from side to side. What did my body need at this moment? I repeated to myself as I rocked left to right.

My body had already answered. In pausing, deepening the connection with my breath and ‘returning to the task’, I was able to gain a sense of agency.

I revisited this idea of always ‘returning to the task’ and, in a new situation, it hindered my delivery. When asked to translate the words of The Lord’s Prayer to movement language, I converted each individual word rather than phrase by phrase. Being the only dancer who interpreted the task in this way, I created material in excess detail and was considerably slower than the group. Upon reflection, I see the importance of also broadening awareness to encapsulate the room and dancers within it. When discussing this moment with Gary Clarke (2021) he advised: “when I set you a task, start simple” as not to fall into the trap of overcomplicating matters in the hope to impress.

Karen Barbour (2008) comments that “such a sense of ownership” within collaborative dance making “may well outweigh the experience of the audience applause following the performance” (p.47). As a group, we discussed the importance of collective support and the encouraging effects this can have on the studio atmosphere, we agreed that if studio time is enjoyable this will be positively reflected in the final product; we would allow the process to speak for itself.

When referring back to David Emerald’s (2016) therapeutic Model, “The Drama Triangle”, I recognise that working collaboratively helped shift my role within this dynamic. Viewing Gary Clarke as a collaborator, rather than a dominant authoritative figure, reduced the likelihood of labelling Clarke as “persecutor” and myself as “victim”. Bogart (2007), suggests that “when considering ‘who are your colleagues?’ try to imagine that, in fact, there is no human who is a director, or an actor, or a playwright, or a dramaturg, or a designer. Rather, think of these functions as roles rather than specific people.”

Diminishing the hierarchical teacher-student/choreographer-dancer relationship through collaboration encouraged the feeling that my voice and opinion were valid. “The devising process [of collaboration] requires letting go of fear, admitting to mistakes and allowing performers to speak” (Claid, 2006). When no longer searching for the approval of others I am offered the potential to fully immerse myself into a creative process both physically and emotionally. By moving forward and continuing to work collaboratively I “can continue to develop relationships with others and understand [myself] as part of a community of artists” (Barbour, 2008). Barbour (2008) also explains that as a result of the “self-determination involved in the sharing and use of lived experiences” when working collaboratively, the process has the potential to be more “personally fulfilling”. Adopting this way of working will not only increase my sense of agency but also the richness of the process itself.