(The Music Center, 22 June 2013)
At the turn of the twentieth century, among the objections against skyscrapers was an aesthetic one. No skyscraper of pleasing proportions had ever been designed. The view that has prevailed, in letter or in spirit, is that economic viability alone warrants the skyscraper's right to rise. What ought to be legislated is not beauty, on which few agree, but the liberty to seek one's own expression of beauty.
Height limits in Chicago had been imposed, but were routinely flouted. Today, zoning rules in the city remain among the most permissive ones. In the irregularity of its members, the troupe of the Hubbard Street Dance Chicago resembles the skyline of their home city---disparate in height, proportions, and plasticity (in wind or music). If a dancer can execute a part, he gets the part. Beauty is in the work done well, not the fortuitous bodily architecture. What makes dancers' bodies beautiful is that their form is subordinated to function, which is to communicate.
Morals are subjective in the same way that beauty is. In public policy, promoted ought to be the ideals that few question---such as efficiency---not a purported universal morality.
The craving for synchrony is irreducible. Yet classical ballets, and many modern ones, fail to indulge this craving by occasionally recognising that music is more than an accompaniment to a silent film, and that music has a beat, which can be acknowledged by an individual dancer and can be used to coordinate with others. As a result, a dancer warming up in the wings has a greater presence in the production than his on-stage colleagues.
The craving for synchrony of beliefs favours simplicity at the expense of accuracy. A simple belief is accessible to many. Hence, even if capable of critical thinking, one may prefer to suspend his disbelief---seduced by the prospect of mutual confirmation.
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