I Hate Mia Michaels: Authenticity, Artistry, and Proto-Existentialism
Yes, it sounds like the title of a dissertation no one wants to read.
I've been watching a fair bit of So You Think You Can Dance lately (yes, I love the show), and it reminded me of something I abhorred when I was a performer and when I was a student. A number of the judges on the show (Mia Michaels especially, but many of the judges now and then) comment on whether or not a performer or particular performance is "genuine", "honest", "heartfelt", etc. etc. A comment on the Colbert Report about music and "soul" struck me in much the same way.
There are two ways to interpret such comments...
First, one might be saying that the performance lacked sufficiently fluidity, and it seemed forced and "artificial." This is basically using highly figurative language to encourage practice so as to refine one's presentation. That's fine with me, although in general when critiquing someone one ought to use language as precise as possible.
Second, one might be saying that there is a deeper problem, one of artistic impression; the artist is not being true to themself, and needs to better express their own voice. I will concede that sometimes this is because they are clearly trying to emulate some other person, and it is coming off as mere mimicry.
Much of the rest of the time, though, it strikes me as solipsistic bullshit. The next time you hear a critique of an artist in those terms, ask if you could replace all the appeals for authenticity with a mere declaration of taste. In other words, when Mia Michaels says of a dancer that they aren't being true to their own voice, she's really saying she doesn't like the dance. By implication, if the performance had been more genuine, it would have been to Mia Michaels' taste. Maybe they were being true to their own inner artist, you just didn't like it. Admit it, Mia--there are some honest voices that you don't care to hear, at least as far as dance is concerned. Would that be so terrible to concede, or must you flatter yourself into believing that you'll like anything so long as it's "genuine" enough for you?
It's a subtle but pernicious implication. "Be true to yourself" often means nothing more than "cater to my preferences"--which, of course, isn't authentic at all.
Colbert made a quip about the Jonas Brothers that was meant to imply that they had no soul in their music. I initially found myself agreeing, but I asked myself, how likely is a listener willing to describe a musician as having soul if they also didn't have talent? Imagine a talentless singer (guitar player, flutist, whatever) that really, really is in to the music--they mean every word they are singing. In the words of Hugh Grant from About a Boy, they are singing with their eyes closed. If they suck, would we say they had soul? Likely not.
Partially that's because soul in music doesn't just mean authenticity, but partly that's because we are unwilling to credit authenticity unless it's good. And that's fine. Authenticity is a lot like loyalty; it's not good in itself, as a rule. It's only definitely good when we know the object of the loyalty (Is loyalty to misogyny praiseworthy? Is authenticity to misanthropy laudable?).
I remember a mini-controversy when the news broke that Natalie Imbruglia hadn't written her hit single Torn. She had never said or implied that she had--people just thought she had, partially by virtue of the way she sang it. It's almost as though we hold singers to higher standards than the president; everyone knows that Obama doesn't write his speeches, but that doesn't stop people from swooning over his addresses.
Maybe the Jonas Brothers don't give two shits about music, theirs or anyone else's. But maybe they really care about the stuff they sing. Just because it's commercial doesn't mean that the artists are merely peddling a product. It brings to mind a scene from Six Feet Under; in a classic Alan Ball trick, he undermines truth by putting it in the words of a self-righteous prig when David Fisher upbraids a porn star for having had sex with men she didn't love. She responds by saying, "I loved every one of those men when I was fucking them."
I don't agree with that perspective, but neither do I think we should make assumptions about people's motivations on the basis of a couple of isolated acts (much less a performance or two). That was much the fatal flaw in the philosophies of Kierkegaard and Nietzsche, a couple of proto-existentialists. They each demanded that people be true to themselves and live free of lies and self-abnegation. Fair enough. But they then made (appallingly groundless) assumptions about what a true, authentic existence was. Kierkegaard concluded the only authentic existence was one of a particular brand of Christianity, whereas Nietzsche concluded that any belief in Christianity was obviously a life of self-imposed artificiality.
Authenticity can manifest in any form. One can even devote oneself to authentic self-abnegation, a seeming paradox. The only kind of authenticity or loyalty that I can think of that is worthwhile in itself is a moral one, where you devote yourself to your moral duties--but that's just another way of saying that morality is important.
So if you don't like a dancer, Mia, just say so. Don't imply that someone is being untrue to themselves or internally conflicted just because you didn't like the routine. That, and some dancers just suck, and are honest and true to their inner natures when they suck.
I've been watching a fair bit of So You Think You Can Dance lately (yes, I love the show), and it reminded me of something I abhorred when I was a performer and when I was a student. A number of the judges on the show (Mia Michaels especially, but many of the judges now and then) comment on whether or not a performer or particular performance is "genuine", "honest", "heartfelt", etc. etc. A comment on the Colbert Report about music and "soul" struck me in much the same way.
There are two ways to interpret such comments...
First, one might be saying that the performance lacked sufficiently fluidity, and it seemed forced and "artificial." This is basically using highly figurative language to encourage practice so as to refine one's presentation. That's fine with me, although in general when critiquing someone one ought to use language as precise as possible.
Second, one might be saying that there is a deeper problem, one of artistic impression; the artist is not being true to themself, and needs to better express their own voice. I will concede that sometimes this is because they are clearly trying to emulate some other person, and it is coming off as mere mimicry.
Much of the rest of the time, though, it strikes me as solipsistic bullshit. The next time you hear a critique of an artist in those terms, ask if you could replace all the appeals for authenticity with a mere declaration of taste. In other words, when Mia Michaels says of a dancer that they aren't being true to their own voice, she's really saying she doesn't like the dance. By implication, if the performance had been more genuine, it would have been to Mia Michaels' taste. Maybe they were being true to their own inner artist, you just didn't like it. Admit it, Mia--there are some honest voices that you don't care to hear, at least as far as dance is concerned. Would that be so terrible to concede, or must you flatter yourself into believing that you'll like anything so long as it's "genuine" enough for you?
It's a subtle but pernicious implication. "Be true to yourself" often means nothing more than "cater to my preferences"--which, of course, isn't authentic at all.
Colbert made a quip about the Jonas Brothers that was meant to imply that they had no soul in their music. I initially found myself agreeing, but I asked myself, how likely is a listener willing to describe a musician as having soul if they also didn't have talent? Imagine a talentless singer (guitar player, flutist, whatever) that really, really is in to the music--they mean every word they are singing. In the words of Hugh Grant from About a Boy, they are singing with their eyes closed. If they suck, would we say they had soul? Likely not.
Partially that's because soul in music doesn't just mean authenticity, but partly that's because we are unwilling to credit authenticity unless it's good. And that's fine. Authenticity is a lot like loyalty; it's not good in itself, as a rule. It's only definitely good when we know the object of the loyalty (Is loyalty to misogyny praiseworthy? Is authenticity to misanthropy laudable?).
I remember a mini-controversy when the news broke that Natalie Imbruglia hadn't written her hit single Torn. She had never said or implied that she had--people just thought she had, partially by virtue of the way she sang it. It's almost as though we hold singers to higher standards than the president; everyone knows that Obama doesn't write his speeches, but that doesn't stop people from swooning over his addresses.
Maybe the Jonas Brothers don't give two shits about music, theirs or anyone else's. But maybe they really care about the stuff they sing. Just because it's commercial doesn't mean that the artists are merely peddling a product. It brings to mind a scene from Six Feet Under; in a classic Alan Ball trick, he undermines truth by putting it in the words of a self-righteous prig when David Fisher upbraids a porn star for having had sex with men she didn't love. She responds by saying, "I loved every one of those men when I was fucking them."
I don't agree with that perspective, but neither do I think we should make assumptions about people's motivations on the basis of a couple of isolated acts (much less a performance or two). That was much the fatal flaw in the philosophies of Kierkegaard and Nietzsche, a couple of proto-existentialists. They each demanded that people be true to themselves and live free of lies and self-abnegation. Fair enough. But they then made (appallingly groundless) assumptions about what a true, authentic existence was. Kierkegaard concluded the only authentic existence was one of a particular brand of Christianity, whereas Nietzsche concluded that any belief in Christianity was obviously a life of self-imposed artificiality.
Authenticity can manifest in any form. One can even devote oneself to authentic self-abnegation, a seeming paradox. The only kind of authenticity or loyalty that I can think of that is worthwhile in itself is a moral one, where you devote yourself to your moral duties--but that's just another way of saying that morality is important.
So if you don't like a dancer, Mia, just say so. Don't imply that someone is being untrue to themselves or internally conflicted just because you didn't like the routine. That, and some dancers just suck, and are honest and true to their inner natures when they suck.