SPRING 1997
30 March 1980
In the fall of 1960, I began a series of four courses (workshops, what have you) in choreography at the Merce Cunningham Studio, then at the corner of 14th Street and 6th Avenue, a building share by the Living Theater. These classes continued to the spring of 1962, immediately followed by the first “Concert of Dance” at the Judson Church, and a class taught by Merce Cunningham in which his Suite by Chance was reassembled in several versions by groups of dancers tossing coins to determine choices and sequences of movement from his original tables. For me, the ‘Judson’ experience began with the first of these classes and ended in October of 1964, after a fifth class given at the Judith Dunn Studio, with the appropriately titled Last Point, an evening-long dance by Judith Dunn, performed at the Judson Church, with multi-screening of films by Gene Friedman and a verbal score composed and read over a public-address system by myself.
I was asked to give these courses by John Cage, who had himself given such in the past and was banking on my knowledge of dance and current practices in several other fields or arts. I asked Judith Dunn to assist me in some or all of the classes at Merce’s, and she was quite active in keeping the discussion going and taking part in the many live explorations of possibilities that took place during the sessions. Merce donated the use of his studio free of charge, and each class was about two and a half hours in duration, running to some ten to twelve sessions per course, with a total fee of $12-$15 to each solvent student for the entire course, and people returning for later courses being exempted from payment…
My general attitude in teaching was influenced by several somewhat disparate factions. I was impressed by what I had come to know of Bauhaus education in the arts, particularly from the writings of Moholy-Nagy, in its emphasis on the nature of the materials and on basic structural elements. Association with John Cage had led to the project of constantly extending perceptive boundaries and contexts. From Heidegger, Sartre, Far Eastern Buddhism, and Taoism, in some personal amalgam, I had the notion in teaching of making a ‘clearing’, a sort of ‘space of nothing’, in which things could appear and grow in their own nature. Before each class, I made the attempt to attain this state of mind, with varying success of course…
I continue no as then to regard each dance I see as an animal of which there is only one of the species, though it might show orienting resemblance to others (cf. Thomas Aquinas on angels as each constituting a species to itself). We sometimes worked from ‘principles’, but in the sense of ‘starting points’ rather than regulating controls. My refusal to provide a ‘recipe’ toward which to work for approval or disapproval periodically got me in hot water emotionally with members of the class, so much had this approach been typical of the attitude taken by the teachers of this era (as often today). I think I also provided rather the wrong kind of surface for the ‘parental transference’ usually and rather troublesomely present in any advanced study still in a teacher-class situation. (I moved from 31 to 35 years of age during this period, most of the rest were in their 20s.)
I found the class highly exciting and successful, especially in the matter of productivity. However, they were a constant challenge to me, intellectually and personally, and when Merce took over a course, and, most important, when a big concert had been presented, I was glad to take a rest. (I was constantly flying all over the city trying to gouge out a very tiny income as a musician for modern dancers.) The workshop was formed, and I felt it could not take care of the continuance of the project. James Waring did some teaching of choreography once more, and only when he said that he was tired and wished me to take over again did I give one more course at the Judith Dunn Studio…
–Excerpted from Robert Dunn’s journal writings, which originally appeared in Contact Quarterly, Winter ’89.
