Arfs majors must
have a love deeper
than mere desire
Over on the southwest corner of min
ims, just past the education building,
lies n half-brick, half-wood structure.
Every day. the people inside must listen
to lectures on the value of discipline
and hard work. When they are released,
the lecturers soy. life won't Ih* easy —
MUSIC
DANCE
AND
THEATER
ARTS
Story by
Rivers Janssen
Photos by
Sara Goodale
mtri’ tin?
nany obsta
cles It) fat.t)
oughorthan
htjsti
On the s*« ■
>ntl floor,
hero art* sev
»ml small
.olitary con*
'men lent
ItamlxTs.
,vhere the
occupants
must sit hour after hour, day upon day.
proving that thi'v .ire good enough to
stop outside again. ()< i:asionally. they
must show thoir worth before the goner
al public, whoso approval, no matter
how generous, is (looting ! ho h»oturers
hmi h that people i an't lie too satisfied
with accolades hoi a use they need to
continue to improve
flits structure, though it seems to cage
the o< cupants, isn't a prison The tx cu
pants are here voluntarily, spending
upward of five hours a day prat tit ing.
in addition to the requisite four to eight
hours of classes. The prison, d you can
call it that, is the passion for art, the
love of performance, from which music
students cannot escape if thev want to
sin cued.
Robert Ponto. director of hands for the
School of Music, used to have advice for
students who asked whether they
should become musicians. "Only if you
can't help yourself," he told them.
Because it has to be a love deeper
than mere desire A love that means
acknowledging that few financial oppor
tunities are out there. A love that drives
you to p rad ice piano until your fingers
fall off. to dance until your legs col
lapse.
The music, dance and theater arts
departments at the University all offer
the standard liberal arts degrees to their
students. But they also offer something
more, something intangible to students.
Unlike economics, business, or journal
ism majors, arts majors usually aren't
thinking “c areer" when they start;
they're thinking, "I need this " Career is
what follows
"A lot of people can't believe they can
major in dance." suys Jennifer Craig,
head of the dance department. She soys
they've been told by the mainstream
culture that arts are frivolous and
unessential, so that when they arrive at
the University, it doesn't occur to them
that they can study what they love. As a
result, many dance majors are defectors
from other programs who realized they
couldn't abandon their passion.
Greg lames knows the feeling. James
originally studied journalism but found
it stifling. "I got sick of writing about
other people's lives," he says.
I Shannon McCord stretches and
jokes around with Carrie ShanaMt
(standing). while Tam! Combaat
(aiding, near door) and Julia Man
cheater grab lunch between class
es
Shannon McCord and the rest ot Susan ZadotTa Ballet III class warm up at the bar.
L..
L-aW
Mallssa Topaxlo hands Chlkako Narlta
soma wiring from a production sat.
James didn’t declare as a theater arts
major until last spring — he's a senior
now — worrying that people wouldn't
take him seriously if he didn't enter a
"practical” Held. "When people think of
theater, they think actors just screw
Kristin* Hapka works Ml ttw soundboard In
ths production, Two Danes.
around and don't do anything." ho says
But ho eventually realized he couldn't
do anything else.
lames does plenty; in addition to a
normal course load, rehearsals for each
play he's in — he's been in about 12
productions at the University — take up
three to four hours per day. Weekend
performances take more time, os do vari
ous other requirements, such as crew
(30 hours of technical work for one cred
it).
And for those who believe theater
majors slide through academically,
remember that theater is not a profes
sional school. Like English and history,
it is a member of the College of Arts and
Sciences, thus every student must take
the basic University requirements.
In addition, the theater department
requires students to learn a variety of
disciplines related to theater, such as set
design, production and directing. They
are not easy, slide-through courses; the
ater history requires students to write
two 10-page papers for credit.
"Our theater degree is comprehen
sive," says Jack. Watson, an assistant
professor in theater arts "We ask for a
level of competence in a variety of
fields. ”
The difference. Watson says, is that
at.ting classes call lor a different type of
studying than do more academic-orient
ed classes. It 's not a process of memo
rization or analysis, iie says; it's more
creative.
An acting student must translate u
script into a different language, he says.
A performer brings into a character all of
the outside learning he or she can and
puts philosophy and religious study into
life situations. "At its very Ixist, theater
allows you to integrate all other areas of
your education." Watson says.
Theater is not the only art that encom
passes that iielief. The dance depart
ment's curriculum, Craig says, is like
any other at the University — it is
designed to provide a basic, well-round
ed education. The difference is simply
what you study; dance majors study an
art form that includes the entire “body
and self."
Craig says the breadth requirements
are extensive, including anatomy, dance
history, production techniques, etc. Stu
dents also have to do senior projects and
internships to graduate. It's a miscon
ception that dance is an easy major for
people to skate through, she says.
In fact, students in the dance program
have to profess a level of proficiency
before they can graduate, which could
mean conceivably repeating lower-level,
or even upper-level, dance classes many
times. The difference: Unlike academic
courses, where you (an bull your way
througii to a passing grade, you can't
bull your way through a dance routine.
You have to know it.
This creates one of the fundamental
conflicts within the theater, dance and
Turn to ARTS, Page 18