Articulating the Psychological and Physiological Responses in Voice and Movement Training

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2015-09-30 Unnamed Encounters: Articulating the Psychological and Physiological Responses in Voice and Movement Training

Dyment, Jackie

Dyment, J. (2015). Unnamed Encounters: Articulating the Psychological and Physiological Responses in Voice and Movement Training (Unpublished master's thesis). University of Calgary, Calgary, AB. doi:10.11575/PRISM/28588 http://hdl.handle.net/11023/2566 master thesis

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Unnamed Encounters: Articulating the Psychological and Physiological Responses in Voice and

Movement Training

Jackie Dyment

A THESIS SUBMITTED TO THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE STUDIES IN PARTIAL FULFILMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF MASTER OF FINE ARTS

GRADUATE PROGRAM IN DRAMA

CALGARY, ALBERTA

SEPTEMBER, 2015

Addendum This addendum is to be applied to “Chapter 4: Case Study A, Examining Articulation in Judith Koltai’s Embodied Practice™ through a PAR Methodology”. Following a conversation with Embodied Practice™ founder Judith Koltai regarding Case Study A she disseminated the following edits on April 4th 2016, which I stand behind as necessary to the integrity of this thesis. As they apply most directly to articulating the practice, it is essential they are read. These comments hold within them a seed of the rigor required for the continual and precise articulation of all Voice and Movement disciplines: p. 86 Line 3: in the French spelling Antigymnastique, then there is no ’s’ at the end. In English often the word ‘Anti-Exercise’ is used. Occasionally the anglicized form ‘Antigymnastics’. However, plural on the French version is wrong. Line3/4: It is incorrect to say that Authentic Movement originated in dance therapy. Dance therapy adopted Authentic Movement as one of its methods. The roots of Authentic Movement are early German Modern Dance and Jungian Psychology of Creativity. Mary Starks Whitehouse fought fiercely against the label ‘therapy’ for Movement in Depth and pointed out repeatedly that her work was with dancers, choreographers as ‘ persons’. She also described her students and followers as “ normal neurotics like you and me” rather than clients or patients or people needing therapy. Line 8: Judith Koltai was an invited guest teacher at the National Theatre School, not a coach. p.89 Line 3/4: Mezieres never used the word alignment. That was not a concept in that methodology. Line 6: The body itself is not the series of muscular chains, The muscle system, which is a part of the body, forms a series of chains. p. 90 Line 6: the Mezieres method is primarily –but not completely – reliant on the therapist’s hands. Line 3 para 2: Using the name “Quadripedic Plantigrade” is problematic. It was the whimsical choice of word for that position given by practicing Postural Reconstructionists. It was never intended to be given as the serious name of a posture.There is no instruction or even mention to the client or patient to consciously intend or attend to the lengthening of the posterior chain. This lengthening sometime happens. But, mostly, inability to perform the posture flawlessly reveals posterior shortenings and that is its main virtue. p. 91 Line 3: Tone is not observable. Its very nature is that it is underlying and only the resulting inability of certain normal movements is observable. This is a very important distinction. Tone is definitely not defined by a specific movement – it is an underlying, unfelt and unconscious habitual shortening of muscle. Line 6 from bottom paragraph: the word “alignment” is not an operative word in Method Mezieres, Antigymnastique or Postural Reconstruction. p. 92 Line 6: Mary Stark Whitehouse studied in Germany but was born in the U.S.A. p. 95 Line 3: “vehement” should be added to “rapid” if safety guidelines are mentioned. A movement can be slow but have strong impact power and can shock or injure an unexpecting mover as much or more than a rapid movement. p. 96 Line 2, paragraph 3: while an articulator might use movement, the gesture circle is a separately defined form and not an articulating circle, so saying ’speaking practice or gesture circle’ muddles matters. Abstract

This thesis seeks to articulate the physiological and psychological responses that arise from voice and movement training in drama by providing a context of some of the training lineages and methods, outlining physiological and psychological responses based on observation and research, and examining the current approaches to both articulating and responding to them within the field of actor training. Following a Practice as Research (PAR) methodology this thesis reviews the current body of published work on several primary vocal and movement techniques utilized in theatre performance training comparing the commonalities and differences of their vocabularies. It looks to psychology and neurobiology to identify the effects of performance training on actors. Interviews with voice and movement teachers regarding their methods and terminology are utilized as well as case studies of a voice technique and a movement practice in order to study articulation within a methodology.

Preface

“The voice is the muscle of the soul” – Roy Hart (Dark Voices 96)

In 2009, I was invited to teach drama in the Eating Disorders Ward at British Columbia’s

Children’s Hospital in Vancouver, Canada. Through applying a combination of modified actor voice and movement training exercises including Shakespearean text work, I saw a dramatic change in the openness of many of the patients within a short period of time. By inviting them to use their voices and bodies they grew in confidence, posture and volume. While they had been hospitalized for behaviors that were actively shrinking their bodies, speaking the lines of Juliet, Cleopatra and Lady Macbeth had the opposite effect. They began to take up space purposefully, vocally and physically. This was true both in text work that required vulnerability (like Juliet) and strong characters that required power (Cleopatra). The act of giving voice to a character began a transformation of giving voice to themselves. Voices that had been turned inward -- hidden in the dropping pounds and visible bones -- were daring to make themselves known, expressing the passionate souls of the speakers.

While I had undergone a similar transformation through voice and movement experiences in my own undergraduate training, witnessing this profound change in others moved me to recognize the consistent effect that this work had on the psyche and body of the individual experiencing it. I realized I needed to know more about the psychological and physiological responses that were brought on by voice and movement training. If it was possible for the training of the voice and the body to bring about positive change, were there reasons to be cautious as well? What is the nature and origin of these responses? Were they events that should be experienced within the walls of a classroom or stricture of an acting training program, or were they the domain of the counsellor’s couch?

It was these questions that led me to my current line of research and the topic of this thesis.

Through continued research, both in teaching roles and as a participant, I continue to observe the effects of voice and movement training. These effects often reach beyond simply improving a performance

iii skillset for an actor, to at times inciting personal transformation, seeming to restore what had been lost through injury, hardship or age.

I have witnessed the negative aspects of a teacher crossing the fine line between acting instructor and counsellor: where the psyche is put on display for the class to see and is muddled about in the way a magnet would clumsily draw metal out of the brain, ripping as it goes; stories of master teachers who cross boundaries into being a guru rather than a guide, and have loyal followings of actors who do not feel they can find their voice or movement without them.

Most of all what I have come to uncover is a lack of articulation and absence of documentation regarding these psychological and physiological responses, without which further research and pedagogical assessment is difficult. By defining what is happening in the body, voice and psyche of students in the voice and movement studio through scientific, anecdotal and experiential means — I seek to give voice to the responses themselves.

Acknowledgements

Special thanks to my supervisors Dawn McCaugherty and Valerie Campbell, the support of Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council Graduate Scholarship, the many voice and movement teachers and students who participated in the studies needed to complete this thesis, and my wonderful husband for making sure I continued to eat and shower while writing this.

And to Tim Sutherland, my friend. “Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave” (Edna St. Vincent Millay).

Dedication

To all those who have had the bravery to peer into the depth of their souls and give voice and body to what they find there

Table of Contents

Abstract ...... ii Preface ...... iii Acknowledgements ...... v Dedication ...... vi List of Figures and Graphs ...... ix Chapter 1: The History and Methods of Modern Voice and Movement Training ...... 1 1.1 Introduction ...... 1 1.2 Methodologies and Techniques ...... 3 1.3 History and Context ...... 6 1.4 Movement Methods ...... 8 1.5 Voice Methods and Histories ...... 15 1.6 Conclusion ...... 25 Chapter Two: The Relationship of Neurobiology and Cognitive Psychology to Actor Training ...... 29 2.1 Introduction ...... 29 2.2 History and Context ...... 31 2.3 Research and Recent Case Studies ...... 32 2.4 Conclusion ...... 42 Chapter 3 – Research Study ...... 44 3.1 Introduction ...... 44 3.2 Methodology – Study Part One: Students ...... 44 3.3 Study Part One, A. – Class Observations ...... 45 3.5 Summary and Comparison of Survey One & Two: ...... 59 3.6 Study Part Two – Teachers ...... 65 3.7 Methodology ...... 66 3.8 Summary ...... 66 3.9 Study Two Conclusion ...... 73 3.91 Conclusion ...... 77 Chapter 4: Case Study A, Examining Articulation in Judith Koltai’s Embodied Practice™ through a PAR Methodology ...... 80 4.1 Introduction ...... 80 4.2 History ...... 82

vii

4.3 Syntonics ...... 83 4.4 Authentic Movement ...... 85 4.5 Articulation ...... 88 Chapter 4: Case Study B, Examining a Vocabulary of Emotional Integration in the Roy Hart Theatre through Richard Armstrong’s International Voice Workshops ...... 94 4.6 History ...... 94 4.7 Practice As Research: A Method Observed, Richard Armstrong-International Voice Workshops ... 99 4.8 Conclusion ...... 106 Conclusion: The Implications of Language used within a Pedagogy for an Emotionally Responsive Medium ...... 108 Bibliography ...... 115 Appendix ...... 122 Student Questionnaire 1 – Fall Term ...... 122 Student Questionnaire 2 – End of Spring Term ...... 124 Teachers - Interview Questions ...... 126

viii

List of Figures and Graphs

Figure 1, Lineages ...... 27 Figure 2, Timeline of Methodology Founders ...... 28 Figure 3, Questionairre 2.7 ...... 59 Figure 4, Questionnaire Summary 1 ...... 62 Figure 5, Questionnaire Summary 2 ...... 63 Figure 6, Lineages with Teachers ...... 79 Figure 7, Lineages with Teachers ...... 79

Chapter 1: The History and Methods of Modern Voice and Movement Training

1.1 Introduction

Currently within theatre programs, voice and movement education plays an integral part in the training of actors, developing their performance skills through vocal and physical techniques to connect text, character and performance. Furthermore, techniques such as Linklater, Laban Movement Analysis, Fitzmaurice and the Alexander

Technique are widely used in the training of individuals outside of the sphere of drama, including speakers, singers and dancers, as well as in therapeutic applications. This thesis seeks to define the language used to articulate the psychological and physiological responses that arise out of this training as well as to research the nature and foundation of the responses themselves.

During the study of voice and body, individuals frequently experience physical and/ or emotional responses. As an example, activities aimed to diminish tension in the jaw to maximize efficiency of articulation may result in: frustration (the jaw remains locked despite attempts to release it), grief (emotional sensations arise due to muscular manipulation), fear (unfamiliar sensations create unease). Currently, the vocabulary to describe observations of both the activity and the result will vary by method and frequently even by individual teacher, limiting the ability of clear and concise communication among various practitioners.

While there has been some research regarding the psychological/physiological response in voice training (Fitzmaurice 247), the vocabulary has not been condensed and crystalized for a cohesive language for the field of performance. Furthermore, many master teachers, including senior Canadian teachers, Judith Koltai and David Smukler,

1 disseminate knowledge almost exclusively through oral conservatory teaching, resulting in their methodologies and vocabulary passing only to their direct lineage. This leads to the following problems: (1) Research is isolated in silos of separate techniques or teachers, (2) Findings on an emotional or psychological level may be overlooked or dismissed due to the lack of concrete descriptive vocabulary,

(3) Dissemination of knowledge is limited, (4) Each practitioner’s understanding of the psychological and physiological responses varies, therefore so too does their individual pedagogical approach (5) Pedagogical approaches to these responses also vary by techniques as the responses themselves are not clearly defined and are interpreted differently by each methodology.

My research follows the methodology outlined in the chapter “Performer

Training: Researching Practice in the Theatre Laboratory” in Research Methods in

Theatre and Performance (Kershaw 137-161) and is structured in the following steps: (1)

Gather and review the current body of published work on several of the primary vocal techniques utilized in theatre performance training, comparing the commonalities and differences of their vocabularies; (2) Review current research in psychology and neurobiology on actor training and emotions; (3) Interview master teachers identified through the contacts afforded through the Voice and Speech Trainers Association

(VASTA) regarding their methods and terminology; (4) Attend Judith Koltai’s Embodied

Practice™ Masterclass in Naramata, BC (May 2014) and Richard Armstrong’s

Workshop (Roy Hart Method) in Banff, Alberta (May 2015) to record the use of language and terminology regarding psychological and physiological responses in these practical settings.

The implications of this research are as follows: (1) To identify common vocabulary for practitioners and teachers to reference the psychological/physiological responses observed in training; (2) To enable application of this language in condensed and cohesive descriptions of the work, thus opening up the field of inquiry; (3) To encourage further research into the applications of the psychological and physiological realms in voice and movement training, as well as related areas of study.

In this chapter I will seek to give an overview of the foremost methods and techniques utilized in voice and movement training for actors, as well as the history and lineages that link and differentiate them. Chapter two looks at the current research in neurobiology, neuropharmacology and cognitive psychology regarding effects of actor training, as well as recent studies and modern theories of emotions. In chapter three I will present and evaluate the research study that follows a group of ten acting students through a year of voice and movement training, charting effects, responses and personal reactions in the training. This chapter will also focus on the experiences and views of post-secondary voice and movement teachers interviewed from across North America.

Chapter four utilizes a practice based research approach to two distinct methods through a case study of articulation in Judith Koltai’s movement discipline (Embodied Practice™

) and Roy Hart Voice Method (as taught by Richard Armstrong). The final chapter, based upon the articulation of research in the former chapters, will evaluate the meaning and place of psychological and physiological responses in voice and movement training, its implications for the performer and address pedagogy for the teacher.

1.2 Methodologies and Techniques

The label of “voice and /or movement training” encompasses a very wide field.

The title itself can lead to confusion as this is often inferred to mean singing and/or dancing. This is not correct (although various methods may utilize singing or dancing as a portion of the training). Voice and movement training aims for an actor to be vocally free, technically adept, physically expressive, and able to access range in sound and motion. It also seeks to integrate character and emotion holistically with body and voice.

Voice and movement training is rooted in the explorations and discoveries of pioneers in the field throughout the past two hundred years (though its true roots go back to ancient

Greece). Master practitioners and teachers also draw from the fields of psychology, biology, physiotherapy, dance and singing; voice and movement training is often a combination of interdisciplinary knowledge. Thus before entering the work of articulating the fine details of the field, it is important to first define the overarching label

“voice and movement training”.

Voice is the study and practice of natural1 sound production and resonance, integrated with freedom of breath. Speech is the practice and study of articulation and dialect and formerly would have fallen under terms such as elocution.

Movement is the study and practice of natural alignment and efficient use of the body. It is also the development of moving in connection with impulse, character, and emotion with accessibility to range, agency, and expression.

1 “Natural” is used in this articulation to refer to the way of nature, or the original function of the body and voice and does not refer to the usual way of being – instead the word habitual will be used for this state. It is important to note that the habitual state is often not the natural one as it can lead to inefficient or even damaging use of the structure which over prolonged use has come to feel natural when it is not.

For this thesis, “voice and movement training” refers specifically to the foundational training for a performer that develops the voice and the body for work on the stage by increasing:

1. Range – vocally in pitch and tone, physically in spatial movement

2. Ease – efficiency of use in the vocal and anatomical body, without injury

3. Authenticity – truthful, emotional connection to sound and movement on stage

4. Projection and Clarity – this is specific to vocal training for sound, but also

applies to movement for projecting a physical action to extend to the limits of the

performance space with clarity of movement.

5. Accessibility – through technique to gain a reliable access to the full body and

voice on stage as needed

The methods to accomplish these goals are widespread. I will focus on North American methods in this thesis (with a specific interest in Canadian training), where the most common methodologies and techniques being taught in acting conservatory and degree programs are:

Voice: Linklater Voice Technique, Fitzmaurice Voicework, Lessac Kinesensic Voice and

Body Training, Roy Hart Voice Work, Patsy Rodenburg, Edith Skinner, Cicely Barry

Movement: Laban Movement Analysis, The Alexander Technique, The Feldenkrais

Method, Authentic Movement, Suzuki Method, Grotowski Physical Theatre, and a variety of combinations including yoga, modern dance and martial arts2

1.3 History and Context

Voice and movement training is not a modern phenomenon. Rather the oldest texts on the art of acting focus much of their attention on vocal quality and gesture. In

Benedetti’s Art of the Actor: The Essential History of Acting From Classical Times he describes how in The Poetics and The Art of Rhetoric, Aristotle gives attention to

“control and command of pitch, dynamics, stress, rhythm, range, flexibility, together with appropriate body language” (Benedetti 9) as being essential in the making of a great actor. Quintilian, a first century Roman writer, wrote 12 volumes of The Institutions for

Oratory, which were heavily influential for both orators and actors as late as the 18th century. Like Aristotle, Quintilian places a large degree of the weight of training the orator on specifics of voice and movement. He has entire sections written on the use of the hands and the fingers. Both of these classical writers also connect emotion to the training of the voice and movement. Quintilian writes:

If you wish to be moved by others, that which is most essential, to my mind, is to

be moved yourself. There are times when it would be ridiculous to appear to feel

sorrow, anger, and indignation merely by arranging our face and feel nothing in our

heart. How do we explain the fact that people who have suffered sudden loss are

2 After interviewing twelve voice and movement teachers from across North America I found that all taught a combination of methods and combined their own expertise from experience and experimentation. Therefore single methodologies are rare and are often still affected by other methods.

expressive in their cries? Why does anger make the uneducated eloquent? . . . I

have often seen actors, both in comedy and tragedy leave the stage in tears at the

end of a demanding role. (VI.2.25)

Remembering that the actors he references performed in large amphitheaters behind masks makes the connection of the vocal and physical performance surprising. Quintilian believed that the voice showed the true feeling and that movement could not be separated from emotion if it was to hold meaning and power.

In the 20th and 21st centuries, voice and movement training continues to swim into the same pools of inquiry — the expressive voice and freed body have an emotional component as well. To see the differences and similarities in these methods, it is important to explain not only their techniques and vocabularies but also the teaching lineages and histories. Some share a common thread while others have entirely different points of origin. Key methodologies are outlined here but it should be noted that work beyond the parameters of a master’s thesis would be required to fully flesh out a complete picture of the methods and variations being used today. Furthermore, some pedagogical approaches utilize methods from other disciplines such as yoga, dance, mime, circus, contact improvisation and combat.

The primary focus in this thesis is the manner in which each method approaches emotion, psychological responses and the articulation of both. Some methods integrate the psycho-physical, others note them as a byproduct, and some do not discuss them at all.

1.4 Movement Methods

The field of movement training has been the least defined of the acting disciplines. In 1988, Jewel Walker states in Master Teachers of the Theatre: “Movement for actors is a murky business. Despite many changes in the past few years, it remains the least defined, theoretically and practically, of the actor training disciplines: acting, voice, speech, and movement” (109). The combination of techniques that could be taught or may have been taught made the discipline diverse at best, and “murky” at worst. North

America, in particular, seemed to be behind the European evolutions in movement training. In the early 1970s it appeared to be catching up as Kristin Linklater writes of “a trend away from the use of formal disciplines of ballet, modern dance, and classical mime as exercises. Actors are turning to yoga classes, are being Rolf’d, are taking Alexander classes and Tai Chi” (quoted by Walker 111). She saw this as a move to find a psycho- physical connection with the body rather than an aesthetically pleasing one. This “trend”, as Linklater calls it, had begun in Europe more than a century earlier.

In Quintilian’s sentiments — that to move another, one has to be moved himself

— is the kernel for Emile Jaques-Dalcroze’s Eurhythmics. Born in Vienna in 1865,

Dalcroze was a musician who created a kinesthetic approach to music training that influenced movement to such a degree that his techniques are still evident in dance, music, acting and other fields today. Realizing that his music students often couldn’t hear the harmonies they were writing in class, he switched from traditional ear training to a kinesthetic approach. He wanted the music to move them. “He encouraged them

(students) to express themselves vocally…at the spur of the moment and experience music as a language of the emotions” (Caldwell 14). As Dalcroze experimented with

8 music he realized that the rigidity of the body was hampering the release of expression.

“He began to study ways in which music, movement, cognition and physical skills were related, and he realized the force that bound thought, imagination and physical skills, was kinesthetic” (13). This discovery of kinesthetics — which, literally translated from Greek, means “awareness of motion” (13) — led Dalcroze to create a set of exercises which he called ‘games’, to engage the musician in improvisational movement originating in feeling.

Dalcroze also saw the connection between the body and emotions. By inducing a physical and vocal state with the sounds and facial expression of crying, the students often experienced sad thoughts as a result. As Dalcroze teacher Tim Caldwell states in his book, Expressive Singing: Dalcroze Eurhythmics for the Voice, “(Dalcroze) realized that people experience emotions with their bodies through muscular contractions and releases” (39), and goes on to say “so movement and physical positioning can create affect, and vice versa” (40)3. Awareness of Dalcroze’s work spread when social reformers, the Dhorn brothers, supported his theories. At this time many of the reigning musical conservatories were still wary of Dalcroze’s “new fangled theories” (13), but the

Dhorns built him a teaching institute in Hellerau, Germany in 1910 to promote his work to a wider audience. Through a festival there which featured the Gluck’s opera Orfeo, his theories were prominently featured. All involved, from singers to choreographers, had been trained in his Eurhythmics. The event drew 5000 people including Stanislavski,

Nijinsky and G.B Shaw. From this point his methods spread quickly and Eurhythmics were taught at Hellerau and in theatres, schools, and studios around the world.

3 Alba Emoting or The Alba Method uses this connection of facial expressions and body positions to the emotions as a tool to create psychological states at will through external postures

As illustrated in Figure 1, Dalcroze is at the root of the lineage to Rudolph Laban

(as well as Mary Starks Whitehouse4). Laban Movement Analysis, along with

Labanotation (a notation technique within the method for recording and scoring movement)5, is arguably one of the best known movement techniques, with its effect reaching far beyond performer training.

Rudolph Laban was born in 1879 in Hungary and started his artistic life as a painter. He began to explore movement within his paintings and moved towards embodying it as a dancer around 1913, when he joined the artist community of Ascona, in Switzerland. Ascona was a commune of artists, philosophers, actors and dancers, including Mary Wigman who had also studied at Hellerau with Dalcroze. Wigman was both Laban’s peer and student. Laban went on to create and explore forms of movement at Ascona. Eventually Wigman left the music-centric Hellerau to focus on movement in dance while Laban begin to create group improvised movement pieces he called movement choirs and explore “ Tanz, Tan, Wort (Dance, Sound, Word” (Bradley 11).

World War I brought an end to the commune at Ascona but Laban would continue his lifelong exploration in movement, first in Germany with Duetch Tanztheatre, and later in

England through Kurt Jooss’s dance school and company. He developed a concise form of movement analysis that was based on body, space, effort and shape. One of the most commonly taught parts of this technique for actors is the states within Effort which are combinations of weight, space and time, as well as variations of shape. Laban’s

4 Starks Whitehouse is the founder of Authentic Movement, a practice that was passed down through Janet Adler to Judith Koltai. This connection will be expanded in chapter four, a case study of the articulation in Koltai’s work. 5 Labanotation is one of Laban’s most significant contributions to dance and movement as it allowed movement to be notated in a similar fashion to music on a scale, his notation method allowed not only dance but also pedestrian movement to be recorded in a precise way allowing it to be read, repeated, preserved and explored.

Movement Analysis is both specific and overarching in that it is detailed and exact in its articulation of each movement, but can be applied to all movement including pedestrian forms. This was a revelation compared to classical dance that held itself apart from everyday movement. It also allowed movement training for actors to actually have a curriculum as Laban states in his article “The Renewal of the Movement in Theatre” in

1929 for the journal Singchor and Tanz “It is necessary that every performer masters body and soul. In order to achieve that goal . . . young actors/performers should only be allowed to get onstage when they have achieved that mastery in movement. It cannot be some unrelated form. Gymnastics, sports and fencing can be done; it’s OK, but they are not sufficient” (Bradley 27). He goes on to write that at that time, theatres did not have a movement practice or movement teachers that could fill this need.

Laban believed in dance as a form of salvation for mankind. Whereas Dalcroze connected muscular contractions with emotion, Laban’s work often came from a desire to free the whole person, emotions, psyche and soul through movement. He writes in 1920:

“Dancing means overcoming indolence. . . . Dancing also brings release and I believe man has crossed the threshold where indolence prevails over the desire for freedom and light, everywhere in each individual . . . there is a dancer who wants to be released.”

(Bradley 16)

In 1939, Laban revisited the salvation-like capacity of movement in his opening night speech for a movement choir production entitled Tauwind, which opened the week before the Berlin Olympics: “What does faith consist of? What is its essence? We believe in a psycho-physiological way to health and happiness and on this we search for right functioning of our individual” (32). Naturally this view of movement also moved into

11 forms of early dance therapy with Laban, with some of his pupils notating the physical movements of those who were mentally ill. Biographer Karen K. Bradley articulates

Laban’s understanding of illness and movement as “behaviors and their patterns reveal what we are conscious of as well as what we are not conscious of, and through movement, the unconscious can be made visible, and recovered as part of the fabric of the self. (57)

Another key contributor in this period was F. Matthias Alexander, an Australian actor. Born in 1869, by his twenties Alexander was developing the foundation of what is now known as the Alexander Technique; a method that focuses on alignment and efficiency of movement. Alexander began his exploration when his voice began to fail as he experienced chronic laryngitis. He frequently lost his voice which, given his profession, was extremely stressful. Once, before a very important audition, he was advised to not speak at all leading up to the appointment so as to save his voice, but this only worsened his vocal problems. Believing that his vocal loss must be related to something he was unconsciously doing, Alexander began to explore what he was doing physically when he spoke. He discovered that his habitual positioning of his head was the cause of his strained vocal chords. He continued this self-study for the next nine years, studying function and movement in a three-way mirror and observing other people carefully. His study would become a lifelong practice of observation. He taught his discoveries for over 50 years and also began training teachers in his technique. More than

100 years later this technique has grown with certified teachers around the world that work within many disciplines.

The Alexander Technique focuses on the primary control (the head) and its relationship to the neck and the rest of the body through alignment. The Alexander

Technique seeks to bring organic change to the misuse or inefficient use of the body. This change is facilitated through lessons with a teacher who encourages student awareness, and offers observations and guidance through touch to bring awareness to habitual misuse. The Complete Guide to the Alexander Technique states, “the Alexander

Technique is a way of learning to move mindfully through life. The Alexander process shines a light on inefficient habits of movement and patterns of accumulated tension, which interferes with our innate ability to move easily and according to how we are designed” (alexandertechnique.com). In actor training the awareness of habitual movement, as well as the change to efficiency of function and alignment through the

Alexander Technique, contribute to the actor being able to access a fuller range of movement, a freer vocal system, and often a deeper emotional connection. This last component is described in Judith Stransky’s The Alexander Technique – Joy In the Life of

Your Body: “Free the body – free the person . . . we gradually become prisoners of our tensions, emotional and physical.” (37) Therefore a physically freed actor is also emotionally available — the training plays a role for both movement and the emotions.

Ron Kurtz and Hector Presetera further this connection in their book The Body Reveals:

“Ideally, the body is capable of allowing the free flowing of any feeling . . . a person with such a body is emotionally flexible and his or her feelings are spontaneous” (as quoted by

Stansky 38). This ‘body’ they mention is also ideal for the actor, as performing a character requires a free flowing channel of emotion. For F.M. Alexander this was found through the release and efficiency of the natural body, “You translate everything, whether

13 physical, mental or spiritual, into muscular tension.” (as quoted by Brennan 139). Many

North American acting schools continue to utilize Alexander Technique including TISCH

School of the Arts, New York University, Julliard, and many others including acting for film programs. 6

As evidenced by the lineage in Figure 1, the history of movement training is more of a web than a linear sequence. Many practitioners researched and furthered our understanding of body alignment and function similarly to F.M. Alexander. Figure 2 indicates through a timeline, the main individuals of the last century who worked to understand human functioning, movement, physical efficiency, health and freedom including Francois Delsarte, Francois Mezieres, Moshe Feldenkrais, Gerda Alexander,

Therese Bertherat, Ida Rolf, Bonnie Bainbridge Cohen. Simultaneously, a group of individuals (often overlapping with the above group in their studies of alignment and function) were exploring the role of cognition and awareness in movement. These include

Elsa Gindler, Charlotte Selver, Mary Starks-Whitehouse and many others. These individuals have contributed to an immense body of somatic knowledge (body-mind connection), form and function of the body, muscular release and physical (and often holistic) healing. From this breadth of field movement training, the actor draws knowledge and applies explorations that free, release and connect the actor’s body and movement.

6 Moshe Feldenkrais should be noted at this point in the history and context of movement methods for the theatre. Born in 1904, Feldenkrais was an Israeli scientist who studied F.M. Alexander’s work which influenced his own discoveries of functional use of the body after he experienced an injury – in this case his knee. Through a combination of his expertise in physics, knowledge of movement through martial arts, and a detailed study of the use of the body and its connection to brain he developed “Functional Integration” and “Awareness through Movement” (one on one and group based sessions of the method). Both F.I. and A.T.M. seek to integrate the brain’s communication to the body and vice versa through “improved motor functioning, widened self-awareness, and a more adequate self-image” (Rywerant 4). This method continues to be influential with practitioners in many fields including the performing arts.

1.5 Voice Methods and Histories

Within actor training the field of voice has traditionally been more defined methodologically than that of movement. This is due in part to speech and elocution classes which were common within both the British and North American educational systems. The British model has continued to place importance on voice and speech training within acting programs. In North America however, “historians refer to the elocutionists, the schools of oratory, and the acting schools from the 1890s to their decline in the 1920s, in terms of the demise of the interest in voice/speech study”

(Mennen 126). The emergence of Strasberg’s Method Acting in the 1950s and the preference put on an “authentic” sound, especially for film, contributed to a lack of focus on vocal techniques. By the 1960s, as Dorothy Runk Mennen states in her article “Voice

Training: Where Have We Come From?” in The Vocal Vision, “there was a need to be

“American” and to disavow the “classical” approach which “they” said was artificial and not believable” (125). Sir Tyrone Guthrie, who was instrumental in the development of theatre in North America over the past century, replies to this focus stating: “the search by actors for the truth within themselves has now gone too far . . . they have neglected the means of communication” (as quoted by Withers-Wilson 3). This lack of voice and speech training for the actor was a point of concern for Mennen, “as I became a part of the academia, the complete neglect of voice/speech, particularly at the national conferences, alarmed me” (125). Mennen, with the support of the American Educational

Theatre Association, arranged to address this need in 1968 at the National Conference.

On her panel she invited Kristen Linklater, Sue Ann Park (for Lessac), and Robert Parks

(to represent Edith Skinner). These individuals, and the methods they represented,

15 comprised the foundation for the revitalization of vocal training on this continent. Other contributors to this revitalization were international peers such as Roy Hart, Cecily Berry, and contemporary additions Patsy Rodenburg and Catherine Fitzmaurice, along with many other master teachers across Canada and the United States.

One of the most influential teachers in voice in North America over the last century, Edith Skinner, influenced not only her students, but also the pronunciation and articulation of American English in the general population. Her obituary in the New York

Times read: “Miss Skinner, who never revealed her age, was born New Brunswick,

Canada” (July 28th, 1981) and goes on to focus on her vast career as a faculty teacher at

Carnegie Mellon, the American Conservatory Theatre, Julliard and the University of

Wisconsin. The article praises her as “a speech coach and consultant to Broadway actors”. Skinner’s seminal work Speak with Distinction defined a dialect of speech that was both uniquely American and vaguely British. Referred to as American Standard, Mid

Atlantic or “Good Speech”, Skinner defines the dialect made popular in movies in the

1930s and 1940s by actors such as Cary Grant and Katherine Hepburn. She codifies the precision of each vowel sound to be used with description of oral placement and sound length. A story that has been told by more than one of her pupils in my interviews with voice teachers is that of her pedagogical approach to the first day of class. According to students, Skinner would always start the first day of class by having new students introduce themselves. After the students pronounced their own names she would follow up with her own pronunciation, thus showing the pupils the “correct” way to say their names.

Margaret Prendergast McLean at the Leland Powers School in Boston trained

Edith Skinner. McLean had been the assistant of William Tilly, a master teacher of

Australian birth. Tilly, who ironically was said to dislike the theatre, was a teacher of oratory based out of Germany. He was one of the first members of the International

Phonetic Association and founder of the Tilly Institute in Berlin in 1905. Much like

Skinner, Tilly taught with a rod of iron. Dudley Knight states in his article “Standard

Speech: The Ongoing Debate” in The Vocal Vision: “residence at the Tilly Institute was not for the faint of heart, or brain, for that matter. University graduates who had slid easily through the tutorial system at Oxford or Cambridge were abashed to encounter

Tilly’s rather more demanding teaching methods” (156). The start of World War I ended the institute as Tilly was interned by the Germans; he then went to England and later relocated to America. He started a teaching position at Columbia University in 1918 and remained there for the rest of his life. His contribution to language (which he taught to speakers, consuls, teachers, singers, actors and many others) is summed up in one former student’s recollection: “Just as Henry Sweet hued our great blocks of phonetic knowledge so has the Professor Tilly taken these blocks and broken them into chips so small they may be passed on to children. He has done more than any other to promote the practical application of phonetics” (DeWitt as quoted by Knight 158). But it was Edith Skinner who carried this work into the theatre, a natural progression as she had been trained herself as an actress at the Leland Powers School of Elocution. Skinner’s work can be categorized as the standard for speech training in acting programs throughout North

America over the last century. The rigidity of the American Standard Speech dialect has now fallen out of favour in many modern training programs as the elevation of speech is

17 no longer appropriate to many texts. However, many of the master teachers even today were directly taught by Skinner, or can draw a short lineage to her (see Figure 6), thus continuing to pass along elements of her work in the evolution of North American speech training.

Another key Figure to influence North American voice and speech training is

Arthur Lessac, from whom we have Lessac Kinesensic Voice Training. Lessac was born in 1909 in Haifa, Israel (then Palestine) and first began his voice training as a singer in choirs and quartets. He studied as a scholarship student at the Eastman School of Music from 1932-1936 and went on to gain his Bachelor of Arts in Voice and Speech Education at NYU in 1941. While his roots were in music, it was his voice and speech work that changed the way many schools approach voice in the theatre. His teaching is based on

“kinesensic” feeling, a term Lessac created and defined in his book The Use and Training of the Human Voice:

I coined this word in order to better describe for ourselves the neurophysical

“feeling” process; it refers to intrinsic, “self to self” sensation, perception, and

response: kine, for the movement or motion; esens, for the basic essence, nature,

spirit, and study of sensation; sens (or sensing), for the actual identifying and

dealing with internal cues, signals, language, and messages; and sic, for familiar

occurrence. (273)

Lessac aimed for a freed, pain free and strong voice through what he called

“organic instruction” (lessacinstitute.org). By 1937 he was asked to work on Pins and

Needles (A Broadway show by the International Ladies Garment Makers Union) where his use of these new techniques led amateurs to stage what was at the time the longest

18 running Broadway production (1108 performances). In 1939 he similarly worked on a production from Vienna with many immigrant performers. His coaching during this production was so successful that one critic noted after the show opened that the cast spoke better English than many native speakers. Lessac worked on self-awareness that would prevent and reverse habits (similar to Alexander, Selver and others), while maintaining a musicality in his approach to sound production and a specificity of vowel placement. A focus on sensation rather than intellectual analyzing led to his unique approach of vocal production.

Interestingly, in 1952 Lessac returned to NYU and gained his Masters of Science in Speech Therapy. This is particularly of note as many contemporary voice teachers sit on one side of the Voice/Speech paradigm while speech therapists sit on the other. This is not necessarily due to conflicting methods but rather differences of approach from the imagistic to the scientific. Having both science and performing arts methodologies meant

Lessac’s technique would have a unique integration of both approaches to the voice. (It should be noted that he taught singing as well as voice and speech; usually these fields require two separate experts, yet his technique bridged both worlds.) In 1962, a historically significant partnership was made when Elia Kazan and Robert Whitehead asked Lessac to join them as the voice, speech and singing teacher for the newly founded

Lincoln Centre Repertory Theater. With this new appointment, Lessac’s evolving techniques began spreading. Throughout his career he taught on faculty at the Stella

Adler Studio, the Jewish Theological Seminary and the State University of New York; he also served as visiting professor at the University of Puerto Rico, California State

University and the University of Virginia. Furthermore, Lessac was a guest teacher at

19 many facilities, including intensives taught at college campuses throughout the United

States, Germany, Yugoslavia, Puerto Rico, Canada and Mexico with attendees from

Australia, Japan, Korea, Portugal, Greece, South Africa, Ghana, Chile, Brazil, Israel,

Lebanon, Iran and Nigeria. The Lessac Institute now has over 50 certified teachers and practitioners worldwide, and remains a key teaching method taught in post-secondary acting programs, especially in the United States.

One section of Lessac’s work that is of special interest to this thesis is that of his work using voice methods as therapy. Lessac worked with patients in Bellevue Hospital examining the use of the voice as therapy. Lessac, while working alongside the doctors at the hospital, used his voice methods to bring sensation back into the face (eg. patients who had suffered Bell’s Palsy) and restored speech for other patients. As stated in his biography from the Lessac Institute:

In addition to further study in speech and voice education, he investigated clinical

therapy extensively, in such subjects as speech pathology, physiology, and

psychology. He studied anatomy and neurology at Bellevue Hospital and did a

clinical internship at St. Vincent’s Hospital, as well as studied at a

psychoanalytical institute for one year. Mr. Lessac found that his ideas were

beginning to form a unified and systematic method of training. He gained insight

into the use of the voice and the body, a philosophy of total communication that

grew naturally out of his concept of speech and voice as an inner physical action.

(lessacinstitute.org)

The third method that Dorothy Park Mennen represented on her panel at that historic 1968 National Conference was the Linklater Technique. Scottish born Kristin

Linklater was trained in England at the London Academy of Music and Dramatic Arts under Iris Warren. Warren, in addition to the Alexander Technique, influenced Linklater and what would later become the Linklater Technique. In her book Freeing the Natural

Voice; Linklater outlines her method of returning to the “natural”7 voice and breath. The technique, based on breath awareness, release and control combined with connection to sound and speech is a departure from the traditional school of elocution exemplified in the work of teachers like Edith Skinner. Instead, the focus in Linklater is on release of and authenticity of sound connected to an internal source. As stated in Freeing the

Natural Voice she believes, “basically, the problems all stem from the separation of the voice from the person, and that their root causes can be found in psycho-physical conditioning by family, education and environment” (192). From this statement a psychological component of her voice technique can be identified, which is also seen in her earlier writing when she conjectures, “easily triggered defense mechanisms develop early in life to make the most revealing part of the voice the best guarded” (98). It is the dismantling of those mechanisms in Linklater technique that enable the free voice to be revealed. In her article “Thoughts on Theatre, Therapy, and the Art of the Voice” in The

Vocal Vision, she reflects on her decades of work and states: “we are training the person who will become the actor and therefore we are inevitable inhabitants of therapeutic territory because we are restoring a lost sense of illimitability” (7).

Kristin Linklater moved to the USA in 1963 and began working with theatre companies, shortly after becoming the voice teacher for the graduate theatre program at

New York University until the 1970s. She then went on to found and work with

Shakespeare and Company in Massachusetts (which still continues its month long

7 Refer to footnote 1.1 for clarification on “natural”

Shakespeare Intensive based on Linklater principles). Before retiring, Linklater taught on faculty at Boston College from1990-1996 and Columbia University from 1997-2013. She currently continues her work from her private voice studio in Orkney, Scotland.

Linklater work is incredibly influential in modern actor training programs, most notably in Canada where master teacher David Smukler, one of the first students to train with Kristin, leads the York University MFA in Voice, and founded the National Voice

Intensive (Canada’s leading intensive for voice training). Through him many current voice teachers have carried on his evolution and explorations of the Linklater Technique

(Figure 6).

Two contemporary teachers whose work has been influential in modern training programs are Patsy Rodenburg, an English voice teacher, and Catherine Fitzmaurice founder of the Fitzmaurice Voice Work8. Both Rodenburg and Fitzmaurice were trained at the Central School of Speech and Drama in London England. Rodenburg did act, but is known most for her work in voice. She has authored ten books on voice including: The

Actor Speaks, The Right to Speak, The Second Circle, Speaking Shakespeare and The

Need For Words. Her work, rooted in the intrinsic right to speak, the technical resonance and articulation of text, as well as emotional connectedness and presence, is well known beyond theatre circles. Her TedTalk “Why I Do Theatre”, which revolved around an experience of a vocalization in a theatre production which disturbed an audience member

8Due to brevity it is impossible to include all the master teachers of the 20th Century, but Cicely Berry must be noted here as a key teacher. Now 88, Berry attended the Central School of Speech and Drama in London and later returned to teach there for many years and has been the vocal director for The Royal Shakespeare Company since 1969. She has taught workshops all over the globe with students ranging from prison inmates to A-list celebrities. In her own words Berry states that the focus of her work is “When going into a workshop, my primary objective is to get people to feel something in the language . . . to make the words active” (When Words Prevail) Author of five books on voice and theatre including Voice and the Actor, Berry is considered one of the most influential teachers of Voice in the 20th Century.

22 and led to his eventual recognition of personal past trauma, received over 200,000 combined views (youtube and Ted.com). As the head of voice at the Guildhall School of

Music and Drama in London since 1981, her experience (coaching professionals at theatres like The Royal National Theatre, Royal Shakespeare Company, Stratford

Shakespeare Festival and others) is rooted in the pedagogy of her post-secondary actor- training program.

Much like Alexander and many other masters, Rodenburg arrived at voice work due to her own difficulties with it. As she states in The Right to Speak: “when I was younger, I always thought of speaking as one of the most frightening and revealing processes” (xi). Perhaps that is what made her sensitive to the vulnerability good voice work required. In Rodenburg’s book The Second Circle she affirms: “I want to tell you about the voice you were born with, the free voice that calls out with certain expectation of being heard and answered. This is your unique, vigorous, healthy and wondrous voice, that for many of you has been knocked, squeezed, ripped out, or hidden within you . . . you have to trust that you still have this voice” (79). With that maxim and others like it she has influenced not only pedagogical practice in the theatre world, but also crossed disciplines working with voice as an agent of healing, reconciliation and source of transformation. Rodenburg’s work is summed up in this statement: “she has developed methods along with the treating-psychiatrists to rehabilitate child murderers through poetry and Shakespeare. Patsy understands the relevance of Shakespeare in contemporary times to communicate with, and release, the marginalized and disenfranchised voice”

(michaelhowardstudios.com). Rodenburg has taught her work to many people in countries around the world including: poverty-stricken areas of India, women in Northern

Ireland (Catholic and Protestant together), in Gaza, the West Bank, prostitutes in

Amsterdam, tribes in Africa and Aboriginals in Australia. Indeed, “Her passion for communication and the spoken word has broken down racial, religious, and class barriers the world over.” (michaelhowardstudio).

Rodenburg’s contemporary, Catherine Fitzmaurce, has similarly been influential for the pedagogy of voice in actor training programs. Founder of Fitzmaurice Voicework, she began acting at an early age and in her teen years had the same acting and voice teacher -- Barbara Bunch -- as the renowned Cicely Berry. Later when she went on to train at the Central School of Speech and Drama, Fitzmaurice would be taught by Berry herself. An accomplished student, she returned to teach at her alma mater. Her explorations in voice, which led to the method she is now known for, started with her discovery of Wilhelm Reich’s work9. Fitzmaurice adapted some of his work regarding muscular tension for her voice students and also integrated parts of yoga, shiatsu and bioenergetics with her classical training in voice.

Fitzmaurice Voicework (which now has over 275 teachers worldwide) focuses on physicality (this is where the signature ‘tremorwork’ is utilized for release), breath, vocal production, practical results and vocal rehabilitation. In her article in The Vocal Vision,

“Breathing is Meaning” Fitzmaurice outlines her work: “ in studying breathing I have recognized something of its spiritual and transformative potential, but in teaching actors my aim has been to demystify the process whereby presence and power may be achieved, offering pragmatic exercises which may be practiced by anyone” (247). The work

9 Dr. Wilheim Reich (1897-1957) was an Austrian psychoanalyst both celebrated and contested in his day. His writings regarding ‘muscular armour’ have influenced body psychotherapy, Gestalt Therapy and Bioenergetic Analysis. His work later in life came under attack, and he was charged with fraud for which he was imprisoned in 1956. Many of his writings were confiscated and burned. He died of heart failure one year later in prison.

24 focuses on a process labeled ‘Destructuring/Restructuring’, whereby the body’s tendency

“to vibrate involuntarily as a healing response . . . is replicated by applying induced tremor initially through hyperextension of the body’s extremities” (249). Restructuring of the voice through traditional breathing techniques follows Destructuring. Fitzmaurice

Voicework (now based out of Los Angeles and New York) is currently taught at Yale

School of Drama, Harvard University/American Repertory Theatre's Institute for

Advanced Theatre Training, New York University's Graduate Acting Program and the

University of California-Irvine, as well as being integrated in part at many programs worldwide. Indeed, a large part of the influence of this method is due to the sheer volume of certified teachers through whom the work spreads.

1.6 Conclusion

In this brief summary of the history of voice and movement training it should be clear that the current context is diverse, intertwined and vast. Many methods share common roots while others seem to have developed simultaneous similarities without a common source. Furthermore, some practices conflict in their methods while others have been integrated to create hybrids and continue the evolution of the work. Almost all of them, with the possible exclusion of Edith Skinner’s elocution, share in the ongoing conversation regarding emotional responses to voice and movement training. Indeed, the conversation appears to be growing as pedagogical approaches vary to whether encouraging these student responses is advisable. But, it is clear that not only are the psychological and physiological responses occurring in the studio/classroom, they are

25 also becoming more frequent. As Kristin Linklater writes in “Thought on Theatre,

Therapy, and the Art of the Voice” in The Vocal Vision:

Acting teachers, voice teachers, and movement teachers are finding that exercises

which they have used for years in successful pursuit of theatrical ends have, in the

past five or ten years, been triggering responses in their students of an

increasingly emotional nature, and sometimes stimulating memories that may

seem inappropriate to the training task at hand. (5)

Therefore, the continued evolution of voice and movement and the corresponding pedagogy must include this issue at its forefront. If something has changed in the fabric of society that endows old exercises with new responses, those responses must be considered, articulated and understood. Indeed, perhaps it is this embodied and expressive work of voice and movement that is now most needed in training to counteract the isolating and sedentary effects of a technological culture on students. In the following chapters this will be attempted through various means: by evaluating the current available research on the emotions and the body in both psychology and neurobiology, through observing and evaluating a group of undergraduate students taking voice and movement over a complete school year, through interviewing Master teachers from across North America about their viewpoints on the issue, and in Practice Based Research articulated through two case studies10 engaging the two methods, Embodied Practice™ and Roy Hart Voice.

10 The Roy Hart Voice Method, the Centre of which is in Malérargues France, is a key influence in voice pedagogy and would typically be included in a summary of current methods. However, due to the Case Study in Chapter 4b the discussion of lineage, history and practice is held within that chapter.

Figure 1, Lineages 27

Figure 2, Timeline of Methodology Founders

Chapter Two: The Relationship of Neurobiology and Cognitive Psychology to Actor Training

2.1 Introduction

An Alexander teacher works with a class of 20 students, giving them introductory instruction on body alignment. The instruction involves placement of the head in relation to the spine and first vertebra; the “primary control”, as it is labeled in Alexander work.

With each adjustment there are noted changes in the student’s posture and walk, but there is one more thing: the face in a quarter of the cases changes as the head is corrected; changes as a wash of feelings unexpectedly come to the surface. In one particular case the student’s eyes mist, his face drops and by all observations he appears to be experiencing an emotional shift. His particular habit was that of holding his chin down and back so that his head appeared to sit on his larynx with his head held slightly behind the body. This workshop class was a two hour introduction to the Alexander Technique; it was to correct and bring awareness to posture and position. In addition to these is an affect I am highly interested in: the emotional and psychological appear to have been adjusted just as much as the physical.

I ask the instructor if she encounters emotional responses when she works with aligning the head. She responds, “yes, very frequently.” In Alexander they call it the

“psycho-physical connection” (Minnes Brandes). Rodenburg talks about the voice as a

“revealing process” (Rodenburg ix), referencing the emotional capacity of voice and movement training, while other master teachers touch on the vocal and physical connection to memory, past injury, family habits and more. Although labeled with

29 different monikers, existence of emotional and psychological responses to voice and body work are not questioned. Both in movement training and voice work there is a general acknowledgement of this side effect of a personal emotional response.

What, then, is this response? If within the diversity of methods and techniques for voice and movement training there consistently remains a response outside of the intended goal of the work, what is the nature of this response? What is it that the training is touching on? Is it beneficial? Is it harmful? And where is it rooted: in the body, the brain, the soul?

One place to look is science. While teachers and practitioners will speak to the experienced and intuitive theories of what is going on, some studies in psychology and neurobiology are catching up to explain them more fully. These studies are relatively new; earlier studies involving actor training have focused on verbal skills and memorization as in Noice and Noice’s work in 1997 on script memorization techniques

(Goldstein 19). But recent studies that look at the actors’ interaction with trauma, empathy, and on the body itself are shedding light on the inner neurobiological workings of the actor. Furthermore, the often overlooked study of emotions that has in decades past been discarded as too insubstantial for scientific research has come back to the forefront, thanks partly to the work of scientists like Candace Pert, Antonio Damasio, Joseph

Ledoux and other neurologists who are doing research into the make-up of emotions.

Cognitive psychologists have also been making headway on the interaction of emotions, the body and acting. Psychologists Thalia Goldstein and Paula Thompson have been doing groundbreaking work individually on research concerning acting training and the effect of acting on the actor. Social Psychologist Amy Cuddy’s discovery of body

30 positioning affecting neuroendocrine levels is also useful to unravel how and why voice and movement training is affecting actors.

2.2 History and Context

Emotions have lived on the outskirts of science for almost a century, with early breakthroughs from Darwin (who stated emotions were part of biological evolution) and

William James (who explored an early version of somatic scientific understanding) being passed over by neuroscience in favor of pursuits with measurable material such as attention or language. A hundred years ago, science was already acknowledging that the body might be the key to the “mind-stuff” of emotions. William James asserted “If we fancy some strong emotion, and then try to abstract from our consciousness of it all the feelings of its characteristic bodily symptoms, we find we have nothing left behind, no

"mind-stuff" out of which the emotion can be constituted” (Damasio 19). Neurologist and researcher Antonio Damasio at the University Of Iowa College Of Medicine, holds this statement as the clue towards the actual substance of emotions—as he states in his article

Toward a Neurobiology of Emotion and Feeling: Operational Concepts and Hypotheses,

“I believe William James actually seized upon the mechanism essential to the process of emotion and feeling” (19).

Damasio goes on to write, however, that James’ proposal “fell so short of the complexity that needed to be addressed.”(19) One of the complexities Damasio sees is the variance of emotions in the course of human experience. Early emotions appear (in

Damasio’s view) to be more connected or dependent upon the body, whereas the complex emotions experienced as an adult may bypass the bodily response. A child’s body has

‘gut reactions’ to stimuli that cause anything from fear to comfort. As the child matures she collects a variety of experiences that can now be stored for future understanding of stimuli that are similar, thus allowing emotions to become more cerebral and less focused on stimuli at an automatic survival level. Adult emotions can also be triggered “after an evaluative, nonautomatic, mental process” (Damasio 19), therefore there is a level of mental and conscious involvement in some mature emotions. Damasio posits that these complex emotional responses may have once been based on a primary bodily emotion in reaction to stimuli that an adult may now filter through the mind’s experience of similar stimuli to choose the emotional response. For example, a tiger in the zoo may have triggered fear in a child, whereas an adult seeing the tiger remembers the former experience, has the knowledge that there is nothing to fear due to the cage and chooses not to be afraid after a cognitive process. In both cases, however, the starting point remains in the body, making emotions literally an ‘embodied’ substance. As Damasio states, “feelings give us a glimpse of what goes on in our flesh” (Damasio 23).

2.3 Research and Recent Case Studies

Candace Pert (1946-2013), a renowned neuropharmacologist, came to the forefront of the American Science circles after discovering the opiate receptor in the brain in 1972 while doing her PhD work at Johns Hopkins University. Formerly, the only receptors that had been discovered were for chemicals naturally produced in the body

(such as insulin). Her discovery, a breakthrough in understanding how drugs such as morphine worked on the brain, would give her information that led to her research on how emotions function in the brain and body.

In the mid to late 20th century, the brain was still commonly understood only as an electrical system. Neurotransmitters firing electrical impulses through the synapses were considered the main system of communication in the human brain (Pert 26), and chemical reactions were seen as secondary. Furthermore, the word ‘mind’ and ‘brain’ were often synonymous, with the brain being both the figurative and literal “head” of the body.

Pert’s work on receptors led her to believe that the mind should more accurately be defined as the whole of the body, not just the brain. She believed that the brain was just as affected by the body, that “emotions and bodily sensations are thus intricately intertwined, in a bidirectional network in which each can alter the other” (Pert 142). This observation came after Pert’s discovery that the chemical interaction in the body (and brain) was just as communicative as the electrical. Furthermore, the brain was not always the initiator of the emotion or response, but rather it could happen in reverse with a chemical reaction in the body affecting the state of the brain.

A brief summary of her work on receptors is necessary to properly understand this body-brain relationship—or rather to understand how the body and the brain are together the “mind”. Human cells have receptors dotted along their surface. These receptors, which are proteins, act as a lock that only the right ‘key’ can attach to. The ‘keys’ are called ligands and, when fit and bound to their exact receptor, initiate dramatic change within the cell. Pert puts it another way: “a more dynamic description of this process might be two voices—ligand and receptor—striking the same note and producing a vibration that rings a doorbell to open the doorway to the cell”(Pert 24). The relationship of this receptor-ligand interaction to emotions is in the biochemical activity of the cell that follows a ligand-receptor bond. As Pert states in Molecules of Emotions, “the life of

33 the cell . . . is determined by which receptors are on its surface and whether those receptors are occupied by ligands or not. On a more global scale, these minute physiological phenomena at the cellular level can translate to large changes in behavior, physical activity, even mood” (24).

Ligands are divided into three categories: neurotransmitters, steroids (which includes hormones), and peptides. Peptides, which are the main focus of Pert’s research, are responsible for regulating many of life’s processes and are what Pert refers to as “the molecules of emotion” (25). In her research she notes that these receptor-ligand bondings happen throughout the body, not just the brain. This is contrary to the theory that neuroscientists long held of the limbic system11 being the control centre of emotions. 12.

Pert theorized, “that repressed emotions are stored in the body . . . via the release of neuropeptide ligands, and that memories are held in their receptors” (147). This hypothesis based on her work with peptides is of particular note in voice and movement training where body work releases habitually held muscles in order to access freer vocal and physical range and depth. Understanding the emotional mind as an interconnection of brain and body is an important shift from believing the mind performs a brain centered

“thinking” process only. It reinterprets the nature of emotional responses as being rooted in the body, explaining emotional triggers that seem to have no cognitive relationship to the vocal or movement exercise being done.

11 The limbic system, is a grouping of structures in the brain including the Hippocampus, Amygdala, Thalamus, Corpus Callosum, Cingulate Gyrus and Hypothalamic Nuclei. Formerly it was credited with motivational and emotional processes, today is understood to be responsible for autonomic processes. 12 Joseph LeDoux, a neurologist at the Center for Neural Science, at New York University in his article “A Neuroscienctist’s Perspective on Debates about the Nature of Emotion”, discredits the Limbic System model proposed by Paul Maclean. Ledoux states, “this anatomical foundation of the limbic system theory has been discredited by modern comparative neurobiology . . . finally there is little evidence that areas identified as components of the limbic system function as a unified emotion system”(375).

A recent study by psychologist Amy Cuddy can also be linked to Pert’s work in ways pertinent to voice and movement training. Cuddy developed a study to see the connection between posture and emotion as described in her research report for the

Association for Psychological Science: “the goal of our research was to test whether high power poses (as opposed to low-power poses) actually produce power” (Cuddy et al.

1363). To test this, Cuddy and her colleagues randomly assigned 42 participants high or low status physical poses. The participants were then told these postures were to test electrocardiography electrode recordings above and below the heart, and that in order to test the electrocardiography machines participants were told they needed to be in specific postures (and as such had no emotional information about their pose).

Each participant held two poses for 1 min. each. Participants’ risk taking was

measured with a gambling task; feelings of power were measured with self-

reports. Saliva samples, which were to test cortisol and testosterone levels, were

taken before and approximately 17 minutes after the power-pose manipulation

(Cuddy et al. 1364).

The poses of high power were expansive and open whereas the poses chosen for low power were closed and took up less space. The study found that testosterone levels increased and cortisol levels13 decreased in high power poses, but that the opposite happened in low power poses: cortisol increased and testosterone decreased. The high power posers were more likely to take risk and focus on rewards (86% vs. 60% of low power posers), and felt significantly more “powerful” and “in charge” than their low pose counterparts. “Thus a simple 2-min power-pose manipulation was enough to significantly alter the physiological, mental, and feeling states of our participants. The implications of

13 Stress hormone

35 these results for everyday life are substantial” (Cuddy et al.1366). The implications of the results are also of particular relevance to voice and movement work where certain postures are held for extended periods of time for release, range and awareness. If, as

Cuddy has indicated, physical postures can trigger moods and emotions based simply on the state of the body, it would follow that some exercises in voice and movement training may also be impacting emotion and mood as well as the intended release or purpose of the exercise.

The change of hormones enacted by physical posture in Cuddy’s research also relates the mood change in this study to Pert’s work on emotions. Hormones are in the steroid classification of ligands, and also use receptor bonding to cause change in cells.

Therefore the receptors-ligand reaction throughout the body could be interpreted as being initiated by the positions of the body, furthering Pert’s theories regarding molecules of emotion working throughout the body as a whole.

In the last decade, cognitive psychologists have also begun to study the effect of acting on the actor, shedding light into an area with little research. Thalia Goldstein, a psychologist whose doctoral dissertation at Boston College is titled “The Effects of Actor

Training on Theory of Mind, Empathy, and Emotional Regulation”, has been one of the key players in shedding that light.

Goldstein, whose academic studies include a BA in Psychology from Cornell, an

M.A. and PhD in Developmental Psychology from Boston College and post-doctoral work at Yale University, was herself a professional actress and dancer in New York City.

From this background she queried why “actors have long drawn on findings from psychology and physiology . . . however, there has been little research that directly

36 explores the process and pleasures of realistic acting” prompting her to state “it is now time for cognitive science to take the stage” (Goldstein and Bloom 142).

In one study, Goldstein tests emotional regulation in actors, an important skill set in healthy adults, and particularly important in acting and acting training where an individual is continually asked to experience heightened emotional states, embody their character, and then to release these for their own stasis. Goldstein states, “emotional regulation is defined as individuals’ knowledge of and control over their emotions

(Gross, 1998; Gross, 2002), and is separate from the ability to understand emotions

(Larsen, To, Freidman, 2007)” (35). Emotional regulation specifically looks at an individual’s ability to change one’s attitude to a situation to prevent or stop an emotional response or the ability to suppress the outward expression of an emotion. It is important to note, however, that while this regulation is a necessary skillset in the maturation of an individual, the complete inhibition or avoidance of emotions can “prolong suffering, whereas engagement with one’s emotions can alleviate it” (Goldstein 38). Therefore a balance of emotional regulation and emotional acceptance is necessary for emotional health.

Goldstein’s study is the first of its kind to look at how actors regulate their emotions and whether they are more adept at doing so than the general population. In her study she had 32 non-actor undergraduates majoring in social sciences, and 18 undergraduate actors from a Bachelor’s of Fine Arts program. Through a set of tests designed to assess emotional regulation in daily life, emotional experience and regulation before a performance (actors only) and emotional experience and regulation before a presentation (non-actors only), the following results were found:

Actors were less likely than non-actors to avoid their emotions when they

perform. However, the two groups did not differ in emotional avoidance in daily

life . . . actors were more likely to accept their unpleasant emotions when

performing compared to daily life. This pattern was less pronounced for non-

actors. (Goldstein 42-3)

Goldstein’s findings could not be “explained by the context-dependent differences in emotional experiences nor by the differences in the dispositions of actors and non-actors”

(44) leading to the result that it was their work as actors that had changed their ability to accept difficult or unpleasant emotions on the stage. In general she also found actors to value their emotions more; 9/11 labeled themselves as sensitive as children, whereas only

4/10 lawyers would (44).

In another study Goldstein, along with colleagues Ellen Winner and Maya Tamir, tested Expressive Suppression in actors. Expressive Suppression occurs when a person consciously inhibits an emotion they are feeling. While this is part of the aforementioned emotional regulation and can be an important skillset as there are situations not appropriate for emotional expression, a habitual pattern of Expressive Suppression can, as Goldstein outlines in her article “Expressive Suppression and Acting Classes”,

“prolong suffering (Carver, Scheier, & Weintraub, 1989; Hayes, Strosahl, & Wilson,

2003), inhibit relationship formation (Butler et al., 2003) impair memory (Richards &

Gross, 200), and have a negative affect on well being”(191). It also has been shown to lead to higher levels of depression and anxiety (191).

In this study Goldstein tested whether actors were less likely to suppress emotions due to their work where emotional expression is both necessary and valued on stage. Her

38 hypothesis was that the training of expressing emotions would translate into their personal lives, making actors less likely to suppress their emotions.

For the study, Cuddy tested adolescent actors through the Emotion Regulation

Questionnaire (Gross and John 2003), which looks at Expressive Suppression and

Cognitive Reappraisal. The first has already been defined and the second referred to a cognitive change in thought to affect emotion. Cuddy also had subjects complete the

Affect Intensity Measure, which rates the intensity of the emotion, and the Berkeley

Expressivity Questionnaire, which looks at the frequency that an individual expresses emotion. For this test there were 28 adolescents majoring in theatre, and 25 non-actors majoring in either music or art. The results were as follows: “As predicted, adolescents trained in acting used suppression as an emotion regulation technique less often than did adolescents trained in other art forms” (Goldstein 193). Furthermore, there was not a notable difference in affect intensity, meaning that the results could not be attributed to the intensity of the expression of emotions. (I also find of note that the acting group scored slightly higher on BEQ positive emotions than the non- actors, but slightly lower scores on BEQ for negative emotions than non-actors , leading me to question if actors express positive emotions more easily than negative emotions in their personal lives. Regardless, the primary results indicate that actor training produces less Expressive Suppression, which could relate into healthier emotional regulation.)

While certain aspects of emotional regulation—specifically lessening of

Expressive Suppression—is evident with actor training, psychologist Paula Thomson studies the way actor training affects actors’ resolution of personal trauma. In her recent

39 studies Thompson examines the effects of actor training on resolution for past mourning and tests if actors display increased psychological autonomy. Her hypothesis for the study was based on the actors’ work of distancing self from “other” when working on a character. Thompson believed this skillset would help actors with resolution on past mourning more than non-actors. As she states in her article “Holding a Mirror Up to

Nature: Psychological Vulnerability in Actors” in the journal Psychology of Aesthetics,

Creativity and the Arts:

“Given this practice of monitoring and regulating, we speculated that many actors

would cultivate a sense of autonomy, self-other awareness, and security within

themselves in order for them to publicly reveal the truths inherent within the

character. Furthermore, through the practice of portraying character in conflict,

we wondered if actors would indirectly gain more resolution for their own

personal experiences of trauma and loss.” (Thomson and Jacque 361)

Thomson defines psychological autonomy as the freedom to explore thoughts of the past while engaging with the interviewer in the present, to be able to remain aware of interviewer relationship in the present while discussing/recalling past trauma and events of loss. Unresolved mourning is evident when the speaker has moments of incoherence or becomes entangled in the events of the past and displays a disorganized state of mind.

To test her hypothesis, Thomson interviewed 41 actors and 31 non-actors individually with the Adult Attachment Interview (Main, Goldwyn, Hesse, 2003). The

AAI “a semi-structured interview, is considered to be the gold standard for assessing states of mind regarding past experiences of attachment, trauma, and loss” (Thomson

363). The interview is not concerned with the event of loss, or types of trauma, but rather

40 assesses the participant’s state of mind, coherence and self-regulation while discussing past traumatic events. After the 19 point interview, participants are classified as one of the following: 1. Secure-autonomous 2. Insecure-dismissing 3. Insecure-preoccupied 4.

Disorganized state-of-mind.

The participants also completed DES-II, ICMI, and the TEQ. The DES-II

(Dissociative Experience Scale) is a self-reporting test that measures the frequency of dissociative experiences, then categorizes participants on a scale of pathological to normative in regards to dissociation. The ICMI (Inventory of Childhood Memories and

Imaginings) tests fantasy-proneness through a self-report test. The results are then categorized as high fantasy-proneness, medium fantasy-proneness, and low fantasy- proneness. The final test, the TEQ (Traumatic Events Questionnaire), tests what trauma an individual has been exposed to.

The results of the tests contradicted Thomson’s hypothesis that “actor training and professional experience would inoculate actors from the psychological distress of unresolved mourning” (Thomson 365). Instead, the actor group showed higher levels of unresolved mourning in the results of the AAI, and more actor participants were classified in the grouping for potential dissociative disorders. In both the DES-II and the

ICMI, actors’ scores were significantly different from the control group in both dissociative experiences (DES-II) and fantasy-proneness (ICMI). Interestingly, the TEQ did not differ, indicating that both groups experienced similar levels of traumatic/loss events in their lives.

This led Thomson to question why the actors displayed higher unresolved mourning and categorizations of dissociative disorders. Indeed, 40% of the actor group

41 had scores indicating further screening for dissociative disorders, whereas only 2.7% of the control group had scores that would indicate further screening (367). From these results, which show actors to be at greater vulnerability to psychological distress,

Thomson queries, “perhaps the specific demands of creating and portraying a character may have increased unresolved mourning in the actor group. This finding raises concerns for the psychological well-being of actors and adds support to the theory that enhanced engagement of traumatic memories into a personal narrative may be indicative of greater post-traumatic stress symptoms” (Thomson and Jacque 367).

2.4 Conclusion

While these studies are by no means comprehensive of all the emotional risks and benefits of actor training, they do shed light on an area that requires more research. What is clear is that actor training and becoming an actor impacts the emotional habits and experiences of an individual. In Goldstein’s research, adolescents in actor training display higher levels of emotional regulation on stage than in their personal lives. They also have the positive benefit of utilizing Expressive Suppression less than their non-actor peers.

Paula Thomson’s studies on trauma and the actor indicate some potentially harmful aspects of actor training. While Goldstein’s studies show actors more open to and embracing of their emotions than their peers (Goldstein 44), Thomson’s research shows that they may also be affected by repetition of narratives of trauma and loss to the extent that it inhibits their ability to reach resolution on past mourning. Furthermore, the worrying statistic of 40% actor vs. 2.7% non-actor in the screening for potential

42 dissociative disorders in Thomson’s study indicates the psychological cost of emotions on stage may be greater than realized.

The advances on the embodied nature of emotions in science lend important information to actor training, specifically voice and movement training. With an anatomical and neurochemical understanding of emotions, emotional responses in voice and movement may begin to move from mystery to a relationship of cause and effect.

The understanding of the body as an important part of the emotional system—rather than just the brain—changes emotional responses from a ‘thinking response’ to a physiological response connected to the muscles, brain, memories and experiences of each individual. Pert’s work on the “molecule of emotion,” namely the peptide-receptor relationship throughout the body, gives new ways of understanding how emotions are communicated through the brain and body, as well as how they may be triggered.

Cuddy’s work on the relationship of physical posture as an initiator of mood, both reinforces Pert’s work on the body’s ability to initiate an emotion and change a mental state, as well as opens up discussions on the nature of voice and movement exercises and poses and how they contribute to the student’s emotional state.

Chapter 3 – Research Study

3.1 Introduction

In order to ascertain the effect, frequency and articulation of psychological and physiological reactions to voice and movement training, I conducted a two-part research study14 over the 2014-2015 university school year. Part one of the study follows a group of ten students through a year of required voice and movement classes, taken as part of their Bachelor of Fine Arts degree at the University of Calgary. Part two is a series of interviews collected from twelve post-secondary voice and/or movement instructors from across North America. Both studies first seek to identify the language used to articulate the psychological and physiological experiences arising from voice and movement training, noting both similarities and variances. Secondly, the studies observed what brought on these reactions, how they were responded to pedagogically, and how the students and teachers felt about them afterward.

3.2 Methodology – Study Part One: Students

Out of a class of thirteen, ten students gave consent and signed up for the study.

The ten students completed an online survey at the beginning and end of the study (with an option to do it in hard copy if desired, see appendix page 118-120) and were observed for more than 60% of the classes, including midterm and final presentations in both fall and spring semesters. Observations were recorded by note taking, tracking individual student’s progress throughout the year, and making specific note when a physiological or psychological response occurred. Exercises and explorations were also notated to ensure

14 Approved by The University of Calgary Conjoint Faculties Research Ethics Board

44 that there was a record of students’ experience that could be linked with class material.

Due to assisting in the classrooms the previous school year (2013-2014), my presence went largely unnoticed as I often participated in the work myself and came to be an accepted and unobtrusive additional participant in the classroom.15

3.3 Study Part One, A. – Class Observations16

My notes begin on September 26th in the voice section of DRAM 400. The professor spoke at the start of this class about the emotional side of voice work. She requested that as a class rule, students stay in the classroom as a matter of safety if they experience an emotional or physical response. She gave an example of a former student who had been physically unwell and for whom she needed to call medical help, adding that she needs to know where students are in order to provide them with help or call support if required. Her rules are to sit down before you fall down (in case students feel faint), and to stay in the room. She also told students that as the work was personal and often emotional they had the right to decide for themselves to participate in an exercise and to draw their own boundaries within the work. She explained that sometimes things come up which are too big to deal with at the time, and others are important to return to.

She stressed student choice, safety and boundaries. In the past she has walked students to counsellor or medical services when needed.

15 It should be noted that the voice and speech professor for Drama 300 and 400 was the same for these students, but the movement professor that had taught them 300 was on sabbatical during 2014-15 and therefore a sessional instructor taught movement for Drama 400. 16 While I did witness a series of emotional and physical responses in the voice and movement classes I was observing, I did not inquire with individuals for more information than what they were already sharing with the class. As such, my notes state what occurred and what training was being performed when a response happened. I do not have information into the private lives of the student beyond this, so factors such as personal trauma, family and relationship stress, tiredness, and general health and wellbeing were often unknown.

This introduction to the emotional element of the work proved important as many students experienced emotional responses this day. For one hour, students worked individually and in partners on rib and brachial chain work, opening up breathing space.

The curriculum then moved on to text work. Prior to class, each student had selected a

Shakespearean sonnet. They were told to choose a word from their sonnet. Then, sitting in a circle, each student was to say that word, tell a story or speak about a personal connection to the word in first person present tense, repeat the word again, then speak the sonnet.

While the students had no direction to choose an emotional story, more than 80% of the students told a story or personal experience that brought up visible emotions including tears, shaky breath, cracks in vocal production, tipping the head up to control emotion, tightened shoulders, changes in eye contact and often, following intense sorrow, laughter. For some, the experience of emotion led to vocal resonance and depth when the sonnet was spoken afterward, while for others the controlling of the emotion left the voice small and tight.

One student, who shall be referred to as Student D, resisted the emotions inherent in his own story stating, “I do not cry” multiple times. However, the emotion he was experiencing appeared to remain in his body as he was visibly tense and agitated, fidgeting and repositioning his body as he avoided eye contact. After all the students had spoken their words, stories, and sonnets, the professor allowed time to check back in with the class, inviting them to express their thoughts and feelings on the exercise. At this time

Student D allowed his physically held emotion to surface. He was overwhelmed at the strength of the emotion and wept with large breaths in between sobs, still finding it

46 difficult, stating, “I don’t cry.” He detailed his fear of aging, of one day being at his own father’s funeral, as he had witnessed his father at his grandfather’s years before (this memory is connected to his chosen word from his sonnet). The professor checked that all students were feeling able to move from these experiences back into the rest of their day.

I asked the professor about what she sees as her role during these emotional responses.

She responded, “to be the container . . . to keep breathing.” She believes students implicitly feel a steady breath and mimic it. She also pays attention to shaping the direction the class is going providing safety by maintaining the container and structure of the class.

Two classes later, during a partnered rib cage stretch, Student A articulated that she had images of a past memory when she sent breath to an area that felt “dark.” In the same exercise, Student B expressed that the stretch made him feel very calm.

In the following class, students were asked to lengthen the muscle chain on the back of their body by lying on the floor with their bums against the wall and legs extended up the wall and then do a series of pointing and flexing of the feet and toes.

Then the students moved into humming while lying on their backs on the ground next to a partner, followed by humming on the ground with their heads in a circle, which allowed them to feel their own and each other’s vocal vibrations through the floor. They then continued humming with their eyes open, sitting upright. After this exercise, they moved into speaking their sonnet to a partner. After they spoke their sonnets, Student A and

Student C, who were partners, cried and hugged. Student E verbalized, following the explorations that for her the moment of sitting up and making eye contact was overwhelming and frightening from the deeply connected breathing place that had been

47 established through the humming on floor. This was a new experience for her. Student F stated, “I don’t know what I am feeling, I feel like it is wrong.” She then took in a gulp of air and cried.

In the October 24th class, students were led through a Feldenkrais sacrum exercise while toning a vowel sound on the exhale. This was followed by body work with a partner, which included exercises that focused on limbs, ribs, head and neck. Student A stated afterward, “when my limbs were being held I felt joy, in ribs I wanted to cry.”

Many of the students expressed that they felt “relaxed” following the exercise and

Student D described a sense of “drugged release,” referencing the looseness in his body.

In the fall semester there were a number of external responses to the training, ranging from tears to frustration to prolonged laughter. The students’ final presentations

(which included their sonnets and two other poems of their choosing) demonstrated their progression into text being connected to their emotion and breath. For many of them, the willingness to choose poems that showed vulnerability and risk also showed a progression in the openness to share themselves. This occurred over a twelve-week class which was held once a week for two hours and fifty minutes.

In the winter term, DRAM 400 students moved into the movement section of their training. They had a sessional instructor take over for the regular movement professor who was on sabbatical. The sessional instructor focused on yoga and dance as the basis of the movement training.

By the first class, a student experienced an emotional response in the form of tears occurring after a series of sun salutations and a movement exercise titled “the wave.” The students worked on the following ways of moving for a number of weeks: flow, staccato,

48 chaos, lyrical and stillness. On February 12th they used these forms of moving for their midterm. They had to choose one minute of music per style and perform it as a five minute solo improvised piece moving through all five movement types.

While most of the pieces showed areas of progression in the individual student’s movement, Student G’s piece stood out to me as I had often sensed in the fall voice term that he unconsciously masked himself. His work felt forced and lacked vulnerability. He had often resorted to comedy or shock tactics and was muscularly and vocally very tight.

In his movement midterm, however, there was grace and gentleness; the piece felt very centered, simple, honest and real.

By the movement final in April, the students had moved into text work combined with movement. They warmed up through yoga before performing a four to five minute story through movement, which could include vocalization and text. Students A, C and H broke into extended fits of laughter during the warm up and seemed unable to get themselves under control for a couple of minutes. Student stress and exhaustion is a likely cause for this emotional outburst.

In their final presentations, three of the students vocalized the word “risk” in their piece. In her piece, Student F retold the story of the day in fall term when she allowed herself to experience the fullness of grief, anger and sorrow in her sonnet. She retold this story with the largeness of voice and movement that the actual event opened for her.

Student D also referenced his breakthrough in the fall voice class, speaking about time, family and risk. His piece did not rely on humor, which had been a previous pattern; instead, he spoke about fear. The majority of the students referenced breakthroughs from the fall and winter terms of voice and movement in these finals, performing the ways the

49 class had affected them and vocalizing their shifts in perceptions. There was a very clear progression in almost every student in the room from a year previous. They had greater access to their bodies and emotions and a greater willingness to be seen in a place of vulnerability. This has been most obvious in their acting work, but also in their daily interactions with each other and faculty.

3.4 Study Part One, B. – Student Results, Survey September 2014

Out of the thirteen students in the Drama 400 class, ten students gave consent to be observed and to take part in the study. The survey that composed the first section of part one of the study was completed by eight students, with one student entering his responses twice into the online system.

The students entered a handle to maintain their anonymity while allowing me to connect the survey they filled out at the start of the fall term and the survey they filled out at the end of winter term. I will continue to refer to them in this section by a single initial assigned alphabetically, and with no reference to either their handle or actual identity.

Survey 1

Question 1.1: Why are you taking this training?

Eight out of 8 respondents included the phrase, “to be an actor” or, “to be a better actor/performer.” Three out of 8 respondents indicated that the training also had application to their personal life outside of the classroom, with responses including:

“develop skills that can help me in multiple aspects of life”, “because it helps me to improve as a person”, “to take care of my body and voice not only for everyday situations but to learn how to prepare myself emotionally and physically for any role I may take on in my life.” Four out of 8 respondents indicated that the course was taken due to it being a requirement of the BFA program. It is of great interest that 38% of the respondents

50 indicated this training was taken with the anticipation that it would affect their personal life, with 1 respondent specifically noting that there would be emotional and physical growth.

Question 1.2: Have you previously taken any voice and/or movement training? If so, what have you taken?

Eight out of 8 respondents had previously taken Drama 300, which included a movement component in the fall term and a voice component in the winter term.17 One out of 8 respondents did not cite taking the 30018 class and stated: “I have not taken any serious training in voice or movement before university. Any voice training would be in terms of singing for musicals or choir in high school situations. Any movement stuff would be through any dance class I may have taken in life.” These responses show that the students were coming to the class with very similar, if not identical, previous training.

Question 1.3: While doing vocal training have you experienced a significant emotional response to an exercise? If yes, what words would you use to describe that experience in:

A. your body B. your thoughts and feelings

Eight out of 8 respondents said yes to this question, with the physical responses listed including: “stopped breathing for a bit . . . my body started to vibrate and convulse the further my cries worsened”, “feel heat spreading to my face my breath shortened”, “I get shakey sometimes” and, “my body felt open and wide like a huge cavern. Breath moved freely through my whole being, and I felt an energy in my being.” The emotions listed included: fear, anxiety, sadness, peace, happiness and vulnerability. The feelings

18The University of Calgary starts first year level courses at 200; as such, 200 is the introductory acting course in the drama division of the School of Creative and Performing Arts, and 300 is the first level with a voice and movement component.

51 listed included: exposed, important, safe, relaxed, overwhelmed and confused. Of particular note was the number of times the word “open” came up. In 38% of responses, students used this word to describe both physical experiences and psychological states.

For example: “I felt I could open up my feelings.” For students only having one previous semester of voice work (approximately twenty four hours of instructed class time), the fact that 100% responded to having an emotional experience in vocal training is significant.

Question 1.4. While doing movement training have you experienced a significant emotional response to an exercise? If yes, what words would you use to describe that experience in: a. your body b. your thoughts and feelings

The results for this question, which focuses on movement rather than voice, were quite varied. Two respondents skipped the question and of the remaining 6, only 3 said

“yes,” they experienced a significant emotional response. For those three, their responses are described as “relaxed”, "out of body", “available, able to express” and, “I felt an energy in my body”.19 The three other responses included, “not that I remember,” a

“maybe” that described a sense of physical freedom from an improvement in alignment and a “not yet.” I found the “not yet” to be of interest as the student appears to be anticipating a significant emotional response as something that will happen with continued movement training.

Question 1.5. What do you think are the benefits of voice and/or movement training (if any)?

19 It should be noted that it had been 1 full calendar year from the time students had taken their first level (Drama 300) movement class, whereas they had taken voice in the winter term so it may have come to mind more readily.

With 1 skip, 7 out of 7 respondents identified the benefits of the training in a variety of phrases to be their growth in effective, efficient and healthy use of the body and voice for performing. The word “connected” was frequently used in describing benefits, as in “helps me become self-aware and connected to myself.” Similarly, the words “grounded” and “centered” are used: “I feel more grounded on stage” and, “I think some serious benefits to this training is to really find your center”(sic). The most repeated term is “aware” or “awareness,” which comes up four times, with respondents linking benefits of an awareness of the body and voice with an awareness of self. One respondent also listed a personal benefit of the training as “allows me to strengthen and have better control in my relationships with other people.”

Question 1.6. What do you think are the emotional or psychological risks of voice and/or movement training (if any)?20

Two respondents did not think there were any risks, one did not know, and one listed the physical risk of pushing past personal physical limitations. Fifty percent (4 out of 8) of students listed psychological risk inherent in the work. This is of great interest.

The risks were stated as: “a lot of vulnerability,” and “I think there's a risk of treating voice class like therapy, when if you need help you should see a professional instead of just relying on voice class. There's also a risk of tapping into something that you didn’t know existed and if you lose control of that, you can spiral into depression or something like that. I think it's very possible to experience emotional responses in voice class that

20 Risk is defined in the Merriam-Webster Dictionary as: “the possibility that something bad or unpleasant (such as an injury or a loss) will happen or : someone or something that may cause something bad or unpleasant to happen.” In this case, risk will also include psychological trauma, or re-traumatizing, feelings of psychological harm or loss or, as in the above definition, that the voice or movement work is causing a bad or unpleasant experience that leads to real or perceived harm for the student. It should be noted that the students were not given this definition of risk when they took part in the questionnaire which in the future would clarify the results.

53 could change you permanently.” There was also one response specific to pre-existing mental illness: “If you have some mental illness creeping in the back of your mind, this work can really bring it forward. Because I feel this work unlocks parts of the person that aren't always present. But I guess it would also mean a first step to getting help”.

Question 1.7. Have you experienced an emotional or physical response from voice work

(or movement work) before? If yes, can you recall what brought on the response and describe the response?

Two respondents noted that when massaging the jaw they felt vulnerable; 1 respondent noted negative emotions as a response to jaw work but did not name the emotion. Another student identified work on the ribs as bringing the sensation of pain and also a lot of emotions. One student referred to a sense of “openness” after dropping shoulders and 1 student “wanted to cry and then laugh” when the sternum was massaged.

One other student mentioned that certain exercises would trigger muscle memories but did not identify the exercise, location in the body, or memory.21

Survey Two – April 2015

After observing the students for two terms, I was interested what changes there would be in both the articulation of experience and the experiences themselves. The final survey contained seven questions, with six of the seven directly mirroring the above questions but with an added emphasis on the current year of training. The ninth question is added to gather a statistic on the carryover (if any) of voice and movement training to an individual’s personal life. Nine out of the ten students in the study completed this survey.

Question 2.1 Do you feel taking this training was important for you? If yes, why?

21 Question 8 asked for any additional information and did not include anything pertinent to this study.

100% of respondents answered “yes,” that this year of voice and movement training was important to them, with 8 out of 9 attributing this importance to their training as an actor. Two out of 9 also indicated that it had importance in “life as well,” with 1 respondent noting only the personal life importance, stating the training was important for him “because it helped me discover who I am as a person as well as all of my insecurities and habits.” The word “grounded” was used by 2 respondents to describe an effect the training had on their bodies, and the phrase “my center” occurred twice as well.

Question 2.2. How has your experience this year differed from previous training in voice and movement? (i.e. in what ways did you progress or develop, if any)

Seven out of 9 respondents described progress in terms of vocal and physical proficiency as well as gaining greater understanding of their voice and bodies. The following words were used to describe the students’ experiences in class this year: “in depth/deeper”(33%), “intense/intensity” (22%), “explore” (22%), with “emotional”,

“vulnerable” and “personal development” each appearing once.

Question 3: 3. This year, while doing vocal training, have you experienced a significant emotional response to an exercise? If yes, what words would you use to describe that experience in: A. your body, and B. your thoughts and feelings

Eight out of 9 respondents answered “yes,” with 1 respondent replying “no.” Of the emotional responses, 1 described the experience as “a surge of energy from my body, almost like I'm on fire, especially when I am about to cry or go through or share something really emotionally taxing for me, I can feel it right away in my body . . . I have always let it happen because I felt I was in a safe environment and felt ready to share it.”

Four out of 9 describe tension being released in their breath and from their muscles with the following emotions accompanying the physical sensation: “when I let myself be open and allow things to affect me, instead of always being in my head, all that energy poured out of me . . . my vocal quality, and freedom, tears, and it was messy but beautiful,” and another student described the release as feeling like “a huge black hole was released, and that heavy sitting feeling was way lighter with every breath I took. In my thoughts and feelings I experience catharsis. I felt clean, and my thoughts became clearer to me.” One respondent found “working on specific parts of my body (especially breathing) would bring up a lot of emotion. . . . I found myself crying and not knowing why.” Another student identified difficult circumstances in their life outside the classroom as a catalyst for emotional responses frequent within the classroom. This is an important note: how much do personal circumstances influence responses to voice and movement exercises?

Question 2.4: This year, while doing movement training, have you experienced a significant emotional response to an exercise? If yes, what words would you use to describe that experience in: a. your body, and b. your thoughts and feelings

Three out of 9 respondents answered “no.” Of the 6 who answered yes, the nature of the response was cited as feeling “free” or full of “energy,” and partner work was the instance of emotional response in 40% of the cases, with 1 student writing, “yes, when we did partner work I felt connected to the people around me and I felt extremely vulnerable. My body felt very lost and my mind and inhibitions were released.” Another student felt the emotion may have been coming from their connection to the music that was played rather than the exercise itself. One of the respondents who indicated she had not experienced an emotional response wrote: “movement for me this year did not allow a safe place for taking any risks and therefore wasn't a place where I experienced any significant emotional response to any exercise,” which refers to S.1 Q.4 with 1 respondent replying “not yet” to a significant emotional response. This implies that the student’s had an expectation that an emotional response would happen with continued training.

Question 2.5. What do you think are the emotional or psychological risks of voice and/or movement training (if any)? Did you feel you experienced risks this year in your training?

Eight out of 9 respondents felt there was risk. Two felt the risk was physical

(citing a lack of warm-up or potential strain from lack of physical awareness), 7 felt that the risk was emotional (there is overlap as 2 noted both physical and emotional risk), and

2 respondents acknowledged risk but did not feel they experienced any. Of those who felt

57 they had experienced risk (emotional in all cases), the risks were noted as positive, with 1 respondent stating, “I was forced to confront or draw from past experiences or thoughts that have been a hindrance for me as a person and as an actor.” Another wrote: “I feel that the only real psychological risk is that the work may bring up past/present problems that you may not have wanted to deal with, but I think the risk of bringing them up outweighs the potential risk of never dealing with those problems. I feel like I experienced the risk of understanding myself deeply. Sometimes we don't want to know what we are or why we are the way we are but I feel it's better to go through that and understand yourself deeper than to let those feelings well up inside of you. It was so relieving to delve into the deeper reaches of who I am.”

Question 2.6: Is there anything else you would like to add?

Responses to this question that pertained to the nature of this study reiterated the psychological component of the work. One respondent stated, “all this work is hard, and some of the hardest emotional work I have ever done, but it's worth every blood, sweat, and tear,” while another said, “voice and movement were crucial to my development as a person and artist.” Interestingly, another student was frustrated with “a focus on the

‘artsy’ rather than the ‘practical’ aspects of voice and movement, preferring to have worked on “accents, dialects, voices . . . dance.”

Question 2.7: Do you feel that taking voice/movement classes this year as part of your

Drama degree has affected you personally beyond your training as an actor (ex. emotionally, physically)

Question 2.7 100 90 80 70 60 50 40 30 20 10 0 Not at all In little ways Somewhat Yes, it has carry over Absolutely, I notice a into my life real difference

Percent of Students

Figure 3, Questionairre 2.7

3.5 Summary and Comparison of Survey One & Two:

In comparing the two surveys, questions 1-6 of Survey 1, and 1-5 and 7 of Survey

2, can be simplified into the bar graphs presented on pages 63-64. The reasons for taking the training and value placed on the training (S.1.1 and S.2.1) remain consistent, with students unanimously taking the training for their career pursuit (“to be an actor”) and unanimously agreeing it was important. Secondly, the students came in with similar training (DRAM 300) and 7 out of 9 students indicate on S.2.2 that they left with further vocal and physical ability. Similarly, column three on the graphs show comparable

59 results, 100% of students cited previously experiencing a significant emotional response to an exercise in voice, and by the end of the year, 8 out of 9 students had experienced a significant emotional response again in voice class that school year. In column 4, the answers to the same question about movement did differ, with only 3 out of 8 students in the fall previously noting a significant response to an exercise, while 6 out of 9 students by year end indicating experiencing a significant emotional response—an increase of

29%. The most interesting deviance from S.1 to S.2, is the assertion of risk in column 5.

In S.1 risk had been accessed at 50% psychological risk, and 12% physical risk, with 3 out of 8 respondents indicating there was no risk. In S.2 taken two terms later, 8 out of 9 students indicated risk, with 77% citing psychological risk and 11% physical risk, with only 1 respondent accessing no risk. However, the students who indicated risk also indicated the nature of this risk to be positive and bring beneficial results. One student noted however, that it could cause damage if “people are not ready to access certain emotions and they have to” and then clarifies that she did not experience this. Another student in S.1 writes: “I guess if you have some mental illness creeping in the back of your mind, this work can really bring it forward. Because I feel this work unlocks parts of the person that aren't always present. But I guess it would also mean a first step to getting help,” citing both risk and benefit again. Another student in S.1 writes: “I think there's a risk of treating voice class like therapy, when if you need help you should see a professional instead of just relying on voice class.” Both of these notes relate voice and movement work responses to changes and developments in the psyche that require professional support outside of the Drama department. This concept will be further developed in part two of the study, where teachers also reference counseling and medical

60 services as part of their risk management. The final column on the graph indicates that the unanimous agreement of benefits in voice and movement work (8 out of 8 students), despite risk, may also be seen in the unanimous agreement of voice and movement work affecting students in their personal lives.

Figure Figure

, Questionnaire , Summary1

Figure Figure

, Questionnaire , Summary2

In reviewing the articulation in the student responses, the following words were used most frequently: grounded, open, center/centered, release/unlock, letting go, energy, aware/awareness. The uses of these words were varied and could have multiple meanings. For example, in S.1.7, two students use the word “released” but the usage could be interpreted in several ways: “I also remember experiencing a lot of pain in movement class when we were releasing the ribs,” and “stretching certain parts of my body have released certain emotions.” In both instances, “release” indicates a change, but the change could be both physical and emotional, just emotional or just physical.

Furthermore, the change itself is not articulated: did the ribs move when they were released? Was the pain physical? Was there an awareness of emotion being held prior to the release? Release is one of the more concrete words utilized and yet it is still enveloped in a cloudiness of meaning. A word such as “center” was used to mean anatomical mid-section, internal sense, balance, emotional stability and more. As the students spoke in class and wrote in the survey, there was often an obvious struggle to find a way to articulate a felt experience. Words, and sometimes gestures, were used until a level of meaning was reached that satisfied the respondent. The meaning of the articulation itself, though, can still be unclear, leading to two students using the same word to indicate completely separate things. On a micro scale, this can lead to confusion within an individual about what is happening in the work, and a lack of understanding of their peers’ experiences. On the macro scale, the articulation that is cloudy for an individual becomes magnified for a group, therefore what one methodology means by

“center” or “release” may be different from another methodology. It is of great

64 importance for practitioners and teachers to continually ask “what do you mean by that?” as clarity of articulation is sought.22

3.6 Study Part Two – Teachers

While part one of this study is key to recording participants’ responses and articulation of actors at the start of their training, it is equally important to focus part two of this study on teachers. Unlike the above students, the teachers have had years of experience, both as students and teachers, with a wealth of stories and insights based on their observations in their own classrooms. Furthermore, while the students may have questions regarding the physiological/psychological responses that arise from voice and movement, the nature of their studies push them on to the next class and once questions are satisfied for themselves, they move on. Teachers, on the other hand, have chosen to specialize in this area and these same questions drive their practices and individual pedagogies. Not a single teacher was surprised by the questions regarding the emotional and physiological responses to voice and movement work, and many had spent time in the classroom and in dialogue with other teachers and practitioners about this topic.

Teachers are key, not only to the present discussion but also as a link in the lineages and practices detailed in chapter one. Moreover, due to the tendency towards “silos” in this field, that is, groupings of expertise and knowledge separated from one another both by geography and methodology, a teacher can represent years of research that has not been disseminated in writing but has continued to be developed and explored in the studio. In this way, interviewing teachers becomes a way to gather the depth of knowledge from

22 In Case Study A in Chapter 4 Judith Koltai demonstrates a method of clarity in articulation through her rigor with language in Embodied Practice.

65 one silo of learning and link it to many others. In these interviews the main focus is to: 1. observe the use of language in articulating the physiological and psychological responses,

2. record the experiences that the teachers had with such responses and 3. track pedagogical approaches to the responses within the work.

3.7 Methodology

In order to gather participants from a large geographic and pedagogic base, recruitment was done through VASTA23 Vox, an online group that enables members to connect and dialogue with one another. I received replies from 20 participants from North

America, 9 of whom followed through with the interview. I contacted 4 movement teachers in Canada and received 3 interviews. The interview (see appendix page 121) was composed of 14 questions and participants had the choice of responding to it in one of three ways: 1. in writing, 2. by phone and 3. in person (if geographically possible).

Participants were given the choice to remain anonymous in their responses or to be credited. As such, some quotations will be followed with a name while others will not.

3.8 Summary

The mean years of teaching experience in this study group is twenty four, with the newest teacher holding four years of experience and the most senior holding forty years.

The combined experience totals 288 years of teaching experience. This expansive teaching record and diversity has meant that responses I have collected include artists who have trained in each of the last five decades (1960s to present). Along with insight

23 VASTA (Voice And Speech Trainers Association) is a non-profit organization with over 500 members from 15 countries, with the largest membership coming from North America and the UK.

66 into their students, they have given viewpoints on their own training and how that has evolved to create their pedagogy.

As evidenced in Figure 6 these practitioners fall under lineages discussed in

Chapter One. Methods that have been studied and are taught by this group include:

Alexander, Cicely Berry, Grotowski, Fitzmaurice, Roy Hart, Authentic Movement,

Embodied Practice™ -Judith Koltai, Laban Movement Analysis, Edith Skinner,

Linklater, Lessac, Patsy Rodenburg, Belle Canto-Singing, Sensory Awareness-Charlotte

Selver, Dance, Martial Arts, Feldenkrais, and Knight-Thompson Speechwork. As noted in Figure 6 all of the teachers, including those who are certified in one particular method, had more than one method in their own training and now utilize more than one

(sometimes upwards of four to six) methods in their own teaching. The overwhelming trend shown in this study group is that pedagogy is drawn from a series of methods and evolved with studio experience into an individual methodology. This evolution furthers the question of articulation as the vocabularies of more than one method are often used together or melded together to form something new.

Teachers were asked if their study of voice and/or movement has affected them outside of the studio. Twelve out of 12 teachers responded “yes.” The ways in which the work had carried over differed from Jan Gist, Professor of Voice and Speech of undergraduate and graduate Drama at the University of San Diego, who notes that she is

“aware of details of functioning anatomy” daily, noting that she also “listens in many different ways, different levels” and that essentially she is “developing my whole being” through her practice. This was similar to how Leslie French, Instructor of Movement at

George Brown College in Ontario, Canada describes transfer of work to life as “I am

67 teaching a way of being in the world, it carries over into my life and relationships.” Eric

Armstrong, Associate Professor at York University in Toronto, furthers the relational element saying “self-knowledge has impacted my use of my body, my emotional regulation and interaction with loved ones and peers.” Noah Drew, Assistant Professor at

Concordia University, went as far as to say that due to the body being a shared instrument of both personal life and this work “then in a sense, there is no real distinction between training and life,” echoed by National Voice Intensive faculty member Gerry Trentham, who states, “the work in the studio essentially changes my entire life, I don’t separate them.” Through these responses it appears that work on the voice and body cannot be contained in the studio. The nature of work that involves the whole self consequently affects the whole self.

The study group was then asked if they felt there was risk in their own training as students24. A quarter of respondents did not feel there was any risk in their training; they did clarify that this was true, however, because “my teachers were very careful,” (Gist), or in other cases, individual agency within the classroom provided a sense of safety. I find it of note that while the question was answered with “no” by four individuals, they seemed to actually be answering “did you experience negative consequences from risk in your training?” as none actually negate risk occurring, they just refute it turning into harm. In this way their answers are very similar to others who stated “yes,” but clarified that the risk was beneficial. Amy Caffee, a speech and dialect coach, states, “if it wasn’t risky there wouldn’t be any growth”.

24 It is important to reiterate that due to the diversity of age and experience, many of these teachers trained in different decades at schools spread geographically across North America and Great Britain.

However, in a couple of cases, extreme risk partnered with unsafe environments made training damaging. Lester Shane is currently an adjunct professor and instructor teaching voice and speech at the American Academy of Dramatic Art, New York Film

Academy, and Pace University. He studied at Carnegie Mellon University in the 1970s and experienced one acting teacher that made the classroom “pretty brutal,” with a hierarchical environment that allowed the teacher blanket permission to do or say anything to a student; including stating "I will make it my business to see you never graduate from this institution". Because of this, individual agency was non-existent.

Rather, it was understood that if a student was truly committed to becoming an actor they would do what was necessary. Shane states it took a long time to overcome that form of training, and he focuses now on being a nurturing rather than the cruel teacher that he had encountered (though credits that education with giving him excellent voice and speech training). This risk that comes from power structure is also commented on by Jane

MacFarlane, Vocal Coach at Theatre Calgary, who states the training needs to be about

“how does this help me get on stage, as opposed to ‘well you have father issues’.” She goes on to say, “I am not equipped to deal with that in the class,” and references the importance of acknowledging that students see the teacher as being in a “position of power.” Glenda Stirling, former movement instructor at Mount Royal University and a certified Laban Movement Analysis teacher, notes that there is a danger in “teachers trying to trigger students to feel like a catharsis is happening.” Noah Drew sees the issue of teacher-student relationship as key in the formulation of positive or negative risk:

“intense but fickle student-teacher bond which triggers abandonment stuff. Often incredibly potent teachers and students are attached to them . . . a personality type I run

69 into – extremely insightful, outgoing person with no boundaries, causes harm.” Drew is not the first to notice this potentially dangerous teaching style; Patsy Rodenburg refers to it as the “guru” phenomenon, wherein teachers gather disciples rather than students. In

The Right to Speak she states, “the voice teacher should become redundant in anyone's life.” (18)

This leads to questioning the ways in which teachers access risk in their own classrooms. The teachers were asked, “Are there risks physically or psychologically you perceive in this training in the classroom?” Eleven out of twelve teachers answered

“yes”25. Few mentioned physical risks, and those who did noted that the physical risk was not a significant threat as it was obvious or easy to prevent. Stirling notes, “physical risks are explicit, emotional risks are greater and implicit.” This could be explained in that undergraduate students who typically fall within an eighteen to twenty five year age bracket may be better at assessing and communicating their physical risk and physical boundaries than psychological ones, as evidenced by the surveys in part one of the study.

Gist feels this is true in her work, where she teaches both undergraduate and graduate level students: “undergrads are not as good at assessing risks, are not as aware of themselves.” Trentham feels that in extending past habitual patterns, “you extend beyond what you know and you have to release the ego – the ego keeps you safe . . . when you let go of your ego you risk never having it again. That’s very traumatic in that moment.”

Responses to this question were far more detailed than the risks the teachers had described from their own training. One teacher, who had previously responded “no” to

25 The one teacher who responded “none” did detail in question 12 a significant emotional experience of a student in the classroom and stated, “I have learned that interceding before a student is ready seldom produces results. The only time I would intercede without permission is when someone is in danger” (Ufema). So the responses are there even if they would not be articulated by Ufema as “risk”.

70 risks being present in his own training26, was very clear to risks being present in the classroom now, and writes:

Deep physical work that frees the voice can also unleash psycho-physical energy

from past trauma, and voice teachers are by and large untrained to deal effectively

with trauma management/therapy. I’ve seen cases (though never in my class)

when students have become dissociative. In at least one such case, they seemed to

pose a potential physical risk to themselves/others. This is an ongoing concern for

me and something that needs more research/training. (Anonymous B)

The point on trauma is reiterated by Amy Caffee, who also feels there is a chance of “restimulation of trauma.” In her understanding, working with the breath can stimulate the parasympathetic nervous system, triggering the body to want to heal itself, which brings about the visible symptomatic emotional reactions in the classroom. Noah Drew, who draws on and has trained in the Somatic Experiencing Therapeutic Modality27 and is also a voice teacher, says there is a “spectrum of trauma (disruption of the nervous system) preventing us from being in the here and now,” based on an understanding that trauma lives in the body as a charge that hasn’t completed its impulse through the nervous system. This modality supports the belief that breath work is one way trauma might be triggered and potentially completed. Thus, working with the breath can induce the body to restore equilibrium to the autonomic nervous system.

Drew has had an acute response in his classroom triggered by a simple breathing exercise. One student was getting drowsy, another appeared to be getting agitated until he

26 Which was first and foremost classical singing training. It is unclear if he felt there was no risk in his voice and speech training as well. 27 A type of therapy aimed at survivors of trauma and post-traumatic stress, which utilizes a focus on bodily sensations (or ‘somatic experiences’) to relieve symptoms for patients.

71 was hitting his mat with a fist and exhibiting rage. Drew diffused the situation with the agitated student and moved on to the next exercise. The drowsy student was difficult to wake up, but shortly after getting up was bent in half, mewling under a table face down.

It turned out that the agitated student had earlier in life killed a woman in a drinking and driving accident; lying still and breathing deeply had stimulated deep feelings of rage and this memory. The drowsy student had been bullied as a child to the point that he had one violent encounter that tore his hip ligaments, causing him to be hospitalized. After he recovered, he became very focused on extreme sports and his body was particularly athletic and tense. Drew notes, “the act of releasing had put him in contact with the trauma of that incident”.

Many of the teachers report experiences of students feeling agitated or upset during similar exercises. Drowsiness and avoidance (wanting to leave the room or getting up and walking around) are also common. The level of the response seems to be determined by the student’s own history, with some students continuing with the class, others needing to stop or be supported individually by the teacher, while in some cases medical services are required. Lester Shane sums it up as “when we allow voice and breath to drop into the body there is held ‘stuff’ that we armor ourselves with.”

On the other end of the acute response are the more common emotional responses of crying or anxiety surrounding the unknown elements an exercise brings on. Stirling finds “emotions are the visible manifestations of what’s happening neurologically, chemically, electrically in your body . . . emotions are a by-product of the work.” This sentiment is echoed by Jane MacFarlane who adds, “what we do is not drama therapy, doing voice work to provoke that response is unethical, the emotional response is a

72 byproduct of the work.” Noah Drew refutes that, stating “emotion is not a byproduct . . . is a signal something important is happening.” He feels that there are two common approaches to emotions in voice and movement training: one that sees emotion as a byproduct, and the second, that pushes for students to “touch deep emotional intensity” in order to accomplish the exercise. He is dissatisfied with both, stating, “emotions need to not be undervalued or fetishized.” Lester Shane feels for his pedagogical approach,

“emotional response is not a goal, it’s a possible result of freeing the voice and breath.”

3.9 Study Two Conclusion

The study clearly shows psychological and physiological responses to be a part of the teaching experience of everyone in the study. These experiences ranged from mild: emotional outbursts, dizziness, drowsiness, agitation; to moderate: hyperventilating, fainting, avoidance of task; and acute: panic attacks, spasms, deep and continuing emotional states, hysteria and in two cases, verbal and physical aggression directed at the teacher. Interview questions 12 and 13 ask for examples of these experiences in the classroom: “in a class situation where a student has a significant personal emotional/physical response during training how do you deal with it with the student? If you have experienced this, how do you put it in context to the class who has witnessed it?

Pedagogical approaches varied, but responses made it clear that there is specificity and flexibility needed from student to student.

The line between therapy and training is a continued point of discussion. Shane approaches the work with acknowledgment: “I know that it can be risky—I try to make it safe. I am aware that possibility exists.” This is reiterated by Macfarlane, who also has a

73 very direct approach to acute cases, “huge psychological risks, I argue that the student must be healthy, and if they are not, I will literally take them upstairs to counseling.”

Trentham discusses encountering this boundary as a young teacher: “as a teacher in graduate school with my third year class, I know the line now because I went over it. I have to make sure the edges of the room are completely in line.” Gist sets up expectations on the matter by articulating to her students, “it is up to you to take care of yourself and set boundaries,” and does exercises on boundaries at the start of term. She continues, “I try to prepare my students with the psychological depths we are going to be working on.”

When someone is triggered beyond what is happening in class, Gist focuses on keeping their focus in the room, saying things like, “touch the table, I am here right now” and getting them to focus on the present. Anonymous B’s approach is that “matter-of-fact emotional acceptance helps to create an environment where emotion is allowed but not fetishized. In most cases, the student is allowed to move through the experience with relative privacy—alone or with one or two people for support if needed.” “I’m not sure that I call it a risk . . . students who are willing to explore their own thinking/feeling process . . . cannot hide from personal ‘issues’,” says Armstrong, who feels “this work doesn’t force students to confront those aspects of themselves, but does invite a kind of examination.” Similar to Mcfarlane, Stirling and others, Armstrong feels it necessary for students to have outside help, “sometimes that exploration reveals things that need to be addressed, by the student in consultation with a professional.” Due to this element of psychological risk for the students, one interviewee pointed out that teachers require

“attuned intuition” (Anonymous). Leslie French states, “students get very used to emotional experiences, I encourage them to stay, (emotions are) part of the work. I’m

74 there to become a witness, each situation calls for something of its own.” In the same vein, Anonymous C continues, “I believe that personal, emotional and physical, student responses come with the territory in our work. No need for these occurrences to be considered scary, out of line, or a big deal.” She does, however, note that exceptions of

“mental illness, unprovoked aggression, or blatant disrespect are different matters. They are endemic, and need to be dealt with by professionals beyond our theatre faculty. Thus having a strong referral network is crucial.” Trentham reiterates this, stating that in extreme cases of mental illness there can be a limit to the work: “there is a line for those with depression, bi polar etc., that the work triggers . . . they might not be able to do it.

Maybe they can but I am not capable of keeping them safe. (This is) very sad and really hard,” and goes on to say, “I couldn’t take responsibility for my students’ psychological health—that’s for their psychiatrists.”

While there are variances in pedagogical approach, all recognize a flexibility for each student and situation. There continues to be a general acknowledgement that the psychological reaction that can be the greatest risk can often be dealt with in the classroom. However, severe responses have many of the teachers referring students to medical help, including walking a student directly to counseling services or calling an ambulance.

Much like the student responses in part one of the study, risk was associated more readily with benefits than negatives in teacher responses. “I see it as a benefit of the work, but it is often difficult, challenging and can be overwhelming for the individual,” says Armstrong. “You have to take risks in this training for it to be of benefit” adds

Leslie French. “These human responses/reactions are to be expected, and can become a

75 valuable part of their training and growth as human beings as long as the student feels safe,” relates Anonymous C, a Professor.

Articulation28 was also touched on multiple times as a means of establishing safety and boundaries within the classroom: “I’m very specific that they don’t hurt themselves . . . I am very clear that people shouldn’t be talking about each other,” says

French. Anonymous B uses language to prepare his students: “preliminary discussion of emotions is vital.” In the case of an emotional response, MacFarlane uses articulation as a means of framing the event and bringing understanding to the student: “I make them speak from the first person and get them to ask questions,” she says. “I will take the time to say, ‘this is a response from the release, it is clearing the fog, it is a byproduct of the work. It’s never about what I do to them and then they own it.” “I tell them we get these feelings to protect ourselves from the big feelings underneath,” states Shane. Amy

Caffeee also feels the use of language can change pedagogical function, where she feels teachers have a “tendency to be corrective and prescriptive rather than holding the space and being descriptive.”

Through interviewing these twelve teachers, the responses to psychological and physiological responses in voice and movement training in North America can be seen a little more clearly. The main point that resounded over and over is that teachers are very much aware of the physiological and psychological responses that can arise out of this training. As teachers, there are various levels of risk assessment in the classroom but the presence of risk is unanimously acknowledged. Those with backgrounds in psychology as well as in drama seemed to be more content for the responses to remain in the classroom,

28 Articulation in this thesis refers not only to the act of piecing together successive sounds and words to formulate and idea, but also the overarching act of clarifying verbally and in writing a theory, method, or experience.

76 while others felt very clearly that acute responses should sometimes be placed in the hands of medical and counseling professionals. Furthermore, teachers agreed that this

“risk” (in quotations as one teacher was hesitant to call it risk) is very much connected to the benefits and growth that voice and movement training can bring.

3.91 Conclusion

There is a commonality between many of the teachers’ responses and those of the students. In both groups, the majority identified psychological risk, and to a much lesser extent physical risk, to be part of the training experience. Moreover, benefits were assigned more readily as a result of this risk than harm or injury, though there were cases of both. Language was a key factor for teachers as a preventative measure (articulating the role of emotions at the start of the semester to dissipate undue anxiety and create a safe space), even though the actual role of emotions—whether by-product or integral— was disputed. One of the most resounding points in both study groups is that this work doesn’t stay in the classroom; the majority agreed that carry-over into personal lives and relationships was implicit. Furthermore, the language used to articulate remained most cohesive among those who had trained in the same programs or used the same methods

(see Figure 6). This made the silos of language very clear and could also explain a commonality in the students’ language which came out of training together for multiple semesters.

The agreement on occurrences of psychological and physiological responses in the classroom paired with the variance on how to respond to them shows that continued research on psychological and neurological level in this field is needed. However

77 language could prove to be a first step in not only continuing the articulation of the relationship of the emotions and body in the classroom but also of connecting these responses to those of other teachers in other studios so as to build a widespread experiential research base of what is happening when participants have unintended psychological and physiological responses to the work.

Furthermore the issue of trauma which came up multiple times is a very pertinent one and requires a different pedagogical response as it predates the training with a past physical and psychological memory and response mechanism. As such, re-stimulation of trauma causing harm can be unintentionally triggered if not known. Gerry Trentham similarly touches on this saying with some forms of mental illness the training (though he states he wishes it were otherwise) hinders rather than helps. With the healthy system though, voice and movement training seems to improve well-being through awareness and muscular release and freedom. It also seems to be connected to undoing psychological blockages as the student becomes vocally and physically free.

Figure 6, Lineages with Teachers

Figure 7, Lineages with Teachers

Chapter 4: Case Study A, Examining Articulation in Judith Koltai’s Embodied Practice™ through a PAR Methodology

4.1 Introduction

Founded by movement pedagogue and master teacher Judith Koltai, Embodied

Practice™ is a synthesis of Syntonics, a practice combining Sensory Awareness and

Anti-Gymnastiques methods, as well as Authentic Movement, a movement discipline originating in dance therapy. Koltai’s own background in theatre and psychology has brought both disciplines—through the integrative Embodied Practice™—to actor training. Koltai’s work is incredibly important to consider when looking at articulation in a movement practice. Koltai has taught at the annual National Voice Intensive for over two decades as the movement instructor, as well as coaching at The National Theatre

School of Canada. As the founder and initiator of Embodied Practice™ she constantly and consciously researches both the work on the body and the articulation of that work.

Approached through a PAR (Practice As Research) methodology as outlined by

Robin Nelson in his book Practice as Research in the Arts, this case study will examine the use of language, structure, exploration in Embodied Practice™ and the use of structured articulation as a means of dissemination and discovery. The ways in which the two disciplines support and differ from one another to form Embodied Practice™ will be addressed.

The Embodied Practice™ Masterclass, an annual and required class for members of the Embodied Practice™ Guild, is a week-long intensive of teaching and research29. In a serene loft on the grounds of a retreat centre, from morning to night a small group of practitioners from across Canada engage in Syntonics and Authentic Movement. Judith

Koltai begins the week with the statement that she is here to study with the guild members. A reversal of the traditional method of studying under a teacher, this emphasis of study happening in the present tense turns the loft into a research lab where embodied speaking is not only practiced, it is explored. The struggle for “what word fits?” is a frequent occurrence. One participant’s discovery within a Syntonics exploration becomes fodder for all to experiment and experience as the participants study with one another.

Authentic Movement at the master class moves fluidly from practice to articulation of practice. The line of researcher and artist practitioner blurs in true PAR fashion. In Robin

Nelson’s seminal book, Practice as Research in the Arts, he offers this definition of the evolving PAR methodology: “above all it asserts the primacy of practice and insists that because creative practice is both on-going and persistent; practitioner-researchers do not merely ‘think’ their way through or out of a problem, but rather they ‘practice’ to a resolution” (10).

Koltai’s methodology and application of research within the study predates the past decade’s focus on PAR within western academia, and yet in many ways her work is an elucidated example of how it can be undertaken. Judith Koltai’s Embodied Practice™ is a laboratory of an evolving understanding of somatic work, a finely examined study of the anatomical human structure in Syntonics and the body poetic in Authentic Movement.

29 The Embodied Practice Guild refers to the group of practitioners who have committed to studying with one another and Judith Koltai in the disciplines through the yearly master class as well as communications throughout the year. Some members have been practicing together for more than two decades.

Through articulation the practice moves from simple exploration to a constant, localized oral dissemination, every detail and experience a step on the decades long journey of somatic learning within Koltai’s “school without walls” (Embodied Practice™). Koltai has been meeting annually (and at times bi-annually) with the Guild members for the

Embodied Practice™ Masterclass since 1996. It functions as a time of intensive research and practice, as well as a time for Koltai to pass on evolutions and changes in the practice that she has discovered over the year.

4.2 History

The late 19th century and the beginning of the 20th marked a dynamic shift in the approach to, and understanding of, the body in movement. The start of the 1900s was “a turbulent period of extraordinary creativity in dance, physical education and body culture

. . . nurturing all these systems was a progressive intellectual climate that honored movement as a complex phenomenon, questioned Cartesian conceptions of mind/body separation and rejected physical training practices rooted in mindless, repetitive drill”

(Matt 1). Indeed, within this era Mary Starks Whitehouse, Francois Mezeires and other bodywork and somatic pioneers emerged to form the lineage that stretches across a century to Judith Koltai.

Koltai, born in Hungary in 1937, emmigrated to Vancouver, Canada in 1964

(following training in theatre and masters work in French Literature in Sweden). She continued her work in theatre in Canada, most notably studying developmental theatre and gaining a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Theatre and a Masters in Counselling Psychology.

After reading physiotherapist Therese Bertherat’s book The Body Has Its Reasons, she

82 went on to study with and obtain a diploma from Bertherat in her Anti-Gymnastiques work. At this time Koltai also attended sessions from Betherat’s teacher, Francoise

Mezieres, a French physiotherapist who invented a revolutionary method of body alignment. She advocated a diametrically opposed approach to the classical physiotherapy training of the day. The Mezieres’ Method viewed the body as a whole organism and addressed the body as a series of muscular chains, each affecting the other.

Mezieres’ assertion was that the posterior chain was the source of posture problems and that treating it was the only solution. She held that lordosis, kyphosis, and even scoliosis were based on an excessive shortening in different regions of the posterior chain. To treat these muscular-skeletal problems, she developed a series of positions to both diagnose and cure the problems through elongation in the posterior chain. Therese Bertherat then developed this same work for a classroom setting and Judith Koltai uses that format as the foundation of her Syntonics practice.

4.3 Syntonics

In Syntonics, Koltai synthesizes Mezieres’ and Bertherat’s methods with Sensory

Awareness, a practice developed by Charlotte Selver. Koltai studied with Selver for three decades until Selver’s death at 102 years of age. While sensory awareness as a term is defined simply as “the ability to receive and differentiate various types of sensory stimuli” (Medical Dictionary for the Health Professions), Sensory Awareness as a practice developed “simple sensory experiments to help them [students] become more deeply attuned and responsive to the felt sensations and dynamics of gravity, breathing, balance, energy, movement” (Sensory Awareness Foundation). Selver states in her book

Reclaiming Vitality and Presence, “It has to do with waking up, with getting spirited to the last molecule” (120).

The combination of a physiotherapy approach to bodywork synthesized with

Sensory Awareness places Syntonics’ locus of understanding and growth within the individual. Whereas Mezieres’ Method is reliant on the hands and guidance of the physiotherapist, Syntonics’ foundation of Sensory Awareness encourages the participants to sense their bodies for themselves. The participants’ awareness of their embodied experience becomes the source of knowing. As Koltai stated in the master class, “your body knows long before and long after your mental knowledge.” The practice of

Syntonics is articulated as somatic work “guided by educational, rehabilitative and aesthetic principles. The goal is elimination of unconscious dysfunctional muscular and movement habits and recovery of harmonious balancing of effort in action and in rest”

(Embodied Practice™ ).

A typical 90 minute session begins with “quiet self-guided observation”

(Embodied Practice™), with participants lying on the ground. This is followed by a test position such as the Quadripedique Plantigrade, a folded over posture where feet and hands are on the floor with the bend coming from the hips, with attention being paid to lengthening the posterior chain. Then come the “preliminaries,” a term Bertherat defines as “the movements which are designed to prepare the whole living organism for full and pleasurable functioning” (Bertherat, Embodied Practice™). Preliminaries are precise actions that invite fuller awareness both kinesthetically and psychologically, while affecting change in the tonus of the body. A central preliminary is chosen for the session, and is most often followed by the beginning test position to observe the differences or

84 changes in the body over the course of the session. The work is precise, as specific as a shoulder muscle, hip socket, baby toe, etc. The focus is placed on tonus rather than tone.

Tone is the observable constriction and shortening of a muscle into a firm form, whereas tonus is the continuous responsive action of the muscles between contraction and expansion. Greater tonus allows greater range and movement, whereas tone is defined by a specific movement and resulting shortening (e.g. bicep curls to tone biceps).

The work in Syntonics with its foundation in Anti-Gymnastique work is opposite to a typical fitness approach. The preliminaries are not created in order to firm the

“problem areas” or other such phrases associated with gym training; rather, the goal is to allow for responsive tonus, which will bring the body into more efficient alignment. Also, in terms of both actor training and dance, the focus on tonus rather than tone comes out of the belief that “tight muscles cannot feel” (Stern), a phrase coined by choreographer Eric

Hawkins. Therefore, over-constriction and tightening of muscles to create tone restricts the practitioner in range of feeling, whereas tonus accommodates and responds to changes.

4.4 Authentic Movement

The lineage of Authentic Movement similarly stretches over the past century.

While recognizing Mary Starks Whitehouse as its pioneer, the work started with Emile

Jacque-Dalcroze’s kinesthetic awareness in Switzerland in the 1800s. He taught notable choreographers and dancers such as Rudolph Laban. Laban famously founded his self- titled movement methodology and taught German dancer, choreographer and improviser

Mary Wigman. Wigman taught German born Mary Stark Whitehouse, who pioneered

‘Movement in Depth’, which would later be known as Authentic Movement.

Whitehouse developed the practice by combining movement and Jungian depth psychology; she believed that “ the physical condition is in some way also the psychological one” (Whitehouse 242). Authentic Movement was born out of

Whitehouse’s training as a Jungian psychotherapist and her movement training as a dancer and choreographer. Whitehouse worked one on one with patients and students, serving as a witness to their movement. She posited that “the body is the unconscious, and that in repressing and, more important, disregarding the spontaneous life of the sympathetic nervous system, we are enthroning the rational, the orderly, the manageable, and cutting ourselves off from all experience of the unconscious” (Whitehouse, 245).

Janet Adler studied with Whitehouse in 1969. She expanded the practice beyond the one-on-one format to a group format. It was in this form that Koltai first encountered

Authentic Movement. She had established a relationship with Whitehouse through correspondence and was set to study with her directly, but she was not able to because of

Whitehouse’s failing health. Importantly Adler’s work in Authentic Movement created the role of witness participant, a role previously reserved for the therapist or teacher.

With this expansion of the role of witness came a focus on language and the ability to express the experience. John Weir, a clinical psychologist who was part of the Human

Potential Movement and with whom Adler also studied, states, “it is essential that participants share their experience with others. . . . the sharing . . . performs a kind of witnessing . . . Witnessing seems to be extremely important in connection with many ritualistic and ceremonial activities. Witnessing, and sharing for that matter, seem[s] to

86 validate the event and to give it and the participant public sanction and acceptance” (Weir

321).

The strength of the lineage is clear in the discipline itself. Taught experientially in studio, the growth of each practitioner’s discoveries marks the structure and directs the practice. The studio is at once a creative environment and a lab, a locus of expression and research. (A combination which connects back to Nelson’s assertion that in PAR the line between researcher and artist practitioner blurs). For instance, a leader may intervene with a mover only to find that the mover did not require his or her assistance and that the intervention was detrimental. This becomes a moment of research discovery passed on to other practitioners.

Authentic Movement, unlike Syntonics, is not a synthesis of practices but a physical discipline rooted in Jungian psychology, based on spontaneous or “authentic” impulses causing one to be moved to move. Waiting with eyes closed in what is referred to as ‘closed eyed consciousness’, the impulse to move literally ‘moves’ the practitioner both physically and emotionally.

The practice of Authentic Movement includes movers and witnesses. The mover is most often inside a circle of people witnessing,. The witness or witnesses form a seated circle around the movers and remain with eyes open. Witnesses participate equally through seeing a mover or movers, and being present with the experience in their own bodies. Following the circle, there are a variety of forms of structured sharing to articulate the experience.

Authentic Movement has a number of forms and structures such as solo practice, breathing circle, long circle, dyad practice, speaking circle, and gesture circle30. The practice begins standing in a circle, wherein each participant makes eye contact with the others before moving into the session. The circle ends with a lead witness striking a chime or series of chimes to bring the time to a close. It is a silent practice for witnesses, though speech and sound can be made by the movers. The long circle, as the title suggests, can go on from 40 minutes to several hours, and participants may transition from mover to witness and vice versa as they feel moved. In dyad practice, a partnership of a witness and a mover remains constant throughout the circle, the witness focusing only on their partner rather than the whole group of movers. The mover remains so for the entire length of the circle. Often this is followed by the same partnership switching places. In the breathing circle, those who feel led to move are movers, and those who feel led to witness are witnesses for the length of the circle. Gesture and speaking circle are forms of articulation of a session of Authentic Movement and will be addressed in the following section in articulating the practice.

Over Koltai’s decades of teaching and practicing the evolution of structures and forms within Authentic Movement has translated into articulated guidelines. Guidelines such as movers opening eyes during rapid movements, ways to initiate touch and contact with other movers, and the witness’s role are all developed and continuously evolve based on what happens in the circle and what best moves the practice forward.

4.5 Articulation

30 It should be noted that the term ‘circle’ in Authentic Movement refers to the participants creating a container for the work and not a geometric shape.

Articulation in both Syntonics and Authentic Movement is built into the practice.

While the content varies in these two practices, the similarities of type and form of articulation connect the two and aid in their synthesis in Embodied Practice™.

Articulation within Syntonics is twofold: naming the work happening, and defining the work’s effect on the individual experience within the body. The first is done by Koltai, who names the specificities of the evolving practice, shares her personal research and brings research relating to Syntonics from other fields such as sociology, neurology and theatre to the guild members. The second form of articulation is that of the practitioners verbalizing and defining their evolving work in Syntonics which, at the master class, often takes place simultaneously with the session as they work at speaking the felt experience with clarity and precision.

Authentic Movement has a defined articulation structure called the speaking practice or gesture circle. In a typical speaking practice, participants will move into a tight seated circle. Each person speaks his or her experience one at a time, and everyone witnesses silently without discussion. To signal that a participant has finished speaking, both palms are pressed on the floor (or legs if seated). Until this signal is made, no other participant begins to speak. In the gesture circle, there is often no speaking. The participants share their experiences of the circle by embodying a gesture or a series of movements they witnessed or experienced. Other participants can join in, share their variation of the remembered gesture or witness the remembered experience. In a reading circle, the participants sit in a circle and read from writings that may have been written following or in response to participating in a circle, following the same principle of “I read what I feel moved to share”.

Both Syntonics and Authentic Movement have a focused, intentional and evolving practice of articulation. In both practices, the language of articulating the felt experience is spoken in first person present tense language, and is specific to sensory occurrences. The foundational guidelines of embodied speaking are, articulation of the direct experience through suspension of projection, interpretation and judgment. For example, in Syntonics a participant may say “I am lying on the ground, I place a pillow under my head, my neck lengthens, I drop the weight of my right shoulder into the ground, I exhale.” As compared to “I am really tired.” Both statements may be true, but the spoken sensory experience not only brings the participants’ awareness to the experience, it makes it conscious and creates clarity for the listener. In Authentic

Movement the same sentence may be said by a mover: “I am lying on the ground,” followed by a witness who, reporting on their experience, may say, “I see a mover lying still on the ground, I hold my breath, my hand goes to my heart, I am sad.” The experience may be completely different, despite both being present for the same physical action. However, through the foundation of sensory language, both are connected by what is happening in the body and not just in the individual interpretation.

This language of self-differentiation, with a focus on individual experience and an awareness of the tendency towards transference, was developed by John Weir. Weir called this vocabulary “percept language,” which is based on his percept orientation theory. Philip J. Mix defined a theory in his article in the Journal of Applied Behavioral

Science on Weir, as “the percept orientation theory is an epistemology that challenges individuals to accept maximum responsibility for how they experience themselves in the world. The percept language reinforces the epistemology by communicating acceptance

90 of personal responsibility.” (Mix 278). Rather than reporting about what happened, an individual gives feedback from their experience, as demonstrated in Mix’s example, “I upset myself with your words,” rather than, “You upset me with your words” (278).

In Embodied Practice™ , percept language is used to focus the cynosure of experience in the individual, and to verbalize it through perceptual terms. In both

Syntonics and Authentic Movement this language clarifies the experience as one’s own, allowing the other participants to remain the “other” and acknowledge different experiences.

As a practicing researcher, the rigor of articulation, for me, was akin to learning a second language. To name the felt experience was a constant struggle, as at first I lacked the vocabulary. Like others in the group, I would often bring the experience back into the body; through embodying the memory, I could often then find words that would at least partially name the kinesthetic experience I was attempting to articulate. In this linguistic struggle, habitual language tendencies also emerged; I often slipped into “we” instead of

“I”, referred to my body as parts separate from myself, and relied on intellectual knowledge alone rather than trusting the embodied mind. After seven days of every word being calculated, weighed and tried on before bestowing it on an experience, I felt like a toddler wobbling on her first steps. When my articulated steps landed I could feel the resonance of “yes, yes, that is exactly what I felt” tingle through my whole being. I could equally feel the frustrations of the wobbles and falls where I was left in the struggle without immediate verbal resolution, and felt devoid of language in my descriptions. The act of articulating, even in my infant stage, solidified my learning; when I could name something, it was then I truly knew it. Articulating also validated my sensations; as I

91 spoke the unseen internal experience into being, the unseen was brought into tangible reality. Lastly, it created community in my experience. While the experience was often internal, the act of sharing made it external as well, taking my individual struggle into a communal understanding. The form of articulation, particularly that of one person sharing at a time and indicating the end of their articulation by placing their hands on the floor, allowed me to slow down in speech. When I was not worried about being interrupted or misinterpreted I took more time to speak, to find the words, and in giving myself that time I found a greater depth of knowledge, specifically somatic knowledge.

When I rushed in conversation, my words quickly became intellectual. This focus on language spilled over into my personal life during the week with a heightened awareness of what I was saying, why I was saying it, and mindfulness of the frequent times of projection, interpretation and judgment in my speech.

Koltai’s focus on verbalizing the felt experience is a focus on connected truthful language. As she expresses in her article The Pleasure of Text, “the need to articulate experience from a deep inner organismic truth is the primal impulse behind the appearance of language in the human species. Because experience is rooted in the perception of oneself and the world around oneself, the language of experience is first and foremost physical, spatial, and sensory/kinesthetic” (378). This focus on truth in expression, combined with her use of percept language, (the specificity of experience rooted in kinesthetic experience) and her rigor to overcome clichés, (over psychologized jargon and disconnected language) in the articulation of Embodied Practice™ , shapes the disciplines. Through her PAR approach, this ‘shaping’ is interwoven with the practice.

The naming of a discovery is as important as the research that led to it. It is through this

92 rigorous focus on language, on speaking in the first person versus the second or third, on the specificity of the felt experience, on her gentleness in coaxing words for things unsaid such as a participant struggling to voice the experience of a muscular sensation that synthesizes both disciplines into a single practice. Through this rigor the creative practice and research is simultaneous. Embodied Practice™’s active articulation names the unnamed, speaks the unspoken, and makes clear the felt experience.

Chapter 4: Case Study B, Examining a Vocabulary of Emotional Integration in the Roy Hart Theatre through Richard Armstrong’s International Voice Workshops

The vocal ‘method’ of the Roy Hart Theatre is based on an extended vocal range

able to reach beyond the normal musical concepts of bel canto singing. . . . All

sounds are explored; no aspect of human experience is excluded. Simply put, the

focus is on singing the totality of self (Kalo et al., 186)

Continuing in the practice as research (PAR) modality utilized in the previous case study, Case Study B seeks to explore the integration of the emotional and psychological responses in The Roy Hart Theatre’s vocal method. A focus will also be placed on the vocabulary utilized in articulating this connection as observed during the

2015 International Voice Workshop taught by Richard Armstrong at the Banff Centre in

Banff, Alberta Canada May 17-21st.

The 2015 International Voice Workshop was attended by 16 participants from across Canada and included classical opera singers, rock singers, dancers, actors, teachers and speakers. It was an introductory level workshop for participants who had previously never worked with Richard Armstrong and the Roy Hart Method. Richard Armstrong, who is on faculty at the Tisch School of the Arts at NYU is an original company member with the Roy Hart Theatre and continues to have strong ties to the Roy Hart Centre in

Margulies, France.

4.6 History

The history of the Roy Hart Theatre and vocal method truly starts with Hart’s mentor and teacher Alfred Wolfsohn. Wolfsohn, born in Berlin in 1896, was a Russian

Jew who, after pursuing music as a musician and singer in his youth, was conscripted into the German Army in 1914. It was here in the trenches that he discovered the seed of truth about the human voice that would lead to the vocal method that is now known internationally through the Roy Hart Theatre. As a soldier, Wolfsohn heard the cries of dying and injured soldiers—sounds that he had never heard before. In pain there was a range and tone that he had not previously thought of as part of the human voice. One voice called out to him for help, as he writes in Orpheus, or the Way to Make a Mask: “I hear a voice incessantly calling; ‘Help! Comrade. Help! Comrade.’ I close my eyes, shaking with terror, thinking ‘How can a voice utter such a sound’.” (as quoted by Pikes

30). Wolfsohn, who keeps crawling for twenty hours, leaves the screaming soldier and is found alive the following morning in a pile of corpses. He is forever changed (and guilt ridden) from this encounter. Following the war he has symptoms of what would now be called shell shock or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Following the war, psychiatrists seem unable to help him but singing does:

“Wolfsohn felt his recovery began when one of his teachers let him shout out his agony.

It was through this experience that he realized that a new way to sing was needed” (Pikes

34). As Laura C. Kalo states in her article “The Roy Hart Theatre: Teaching the Totality of Self” in The Vocal Vision, “eventually on his own, he began to seek relief by reproducing the very sounds he had heard in the trenches. What Wolfsohn discovered was that making audible these hidden or wounded areas of his soul actually led him to the

95 inner healing he sought. He began to accept pupils and to apply what he discovered in his own vocal development to them” (187).

Wolfsohn began teaching his own students, developing new ways of accessing the range of the human voice from behind his piano. Along with his belief that the human voice could stretch 8 octaves, he began to search for a way to “find the united as opposed to the split voice” (Wolfsohn as quoted in Pikes 38). Wolfsohn noticed the vocal ability of an infant both in volume and pitch that was created without vocal cord damage and began to posit that the adult has lost this natural ability through inhibitions: “The grown- up has forgotten how to open his mouth in a natural way; by adjusting to the world around him he has forgotten how to scream. And thus, after losing this primitiveness, the voice is exposed to all sorts of deformations”(39).31 Wolfsohn’s use of the word primitive is clarified by Pikes to be referring to not just a natural state, “but of a return to soul, through Nature” (39). In this way Wolfsohn’s approach to the voice was clearly psychological (as well as spiritual). He did not just strive for an end result for performance but for a “complete healing of the voice and soul through singing.” In an excerpt from Orpheus he writes: “I live by breathing in and breathing out. I sing by transforming this breath into sound, the sound which in turn forms the material for the contents of the soul” (as quoted by Pikes 39). Wolfsohn had to flee from Germany to

England due to the Nazi regime taking power. In London he continued his work (as well as serving for a time in the British Army Pioneer Corps). It was here that in the 1950s a young Roy Hart came to study under him.

31 Pikes goes on to clarify that Wolfsohn is not referring to the “primal scream”, which is attributed to Arthur Janov decades later.

Roy Hart, born in 1926 in Johannesburg, South Africa, came to Wolfsohn after already having trained at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art. Hart, while achieving much success within RADA, became disillusioned with his training. Hart writes in “How a Voice Gave Me A Conscience”: “there was a serious philosophical flaw in the approach to Theatre in Drama schools in those days. I was interested in the relationship between the actor and his personal life. I became concerned with the relationship between voice and personality” (as quoted by Kalo 188). Hart left his emerging performance career and became Wolfsohn’s protégé for 16 years until his mentor’s death in 1962. During this time Hart took on more and more teaching responsibility and slowly changed the one on one coaching format into a small group studio structure. The therapeutic roots from

Wolfsohn evolved into an artistic approach, giving birth to performance and eventually the Roy Hart Theatre. Gunther (a member of RHT) describes this evolution in The

Human Voice as “Wolfsohn’s psychological need to find answers concerning his own voice and which had developed into a good therapeutic/artistic tool . . . now underwent a careful change in bias: from the therapeutic/artistic studies to the artistic therapeutic application” (as quoted by Kalo 189). This shift maintained the psychological components of the work while directing it towards artistic performance.

With Roy Hart at the helm, the group was observed with curiosity and caution by outsiders. Hart focused on an “eight octave approach to life” (Kalo 189), which started in the studio but was inclusive of the company members’ personal lives, and even dreams and nightmares. It was a communal form of living with members working out of the

Abraxes Club in London. Hart also had strong ties to the Jung Institute and lectured at

97 conferences (Wolfsohn had also recognized the connections to Jung from this work)32.

The company’s first work, Euripides’ The Bacchae and Eight Songs for a Mad King

(composed by Peter Maxwell-Davies specifically for Hart), met with favorable reviews with critics being equally amazed and disturbed by the range and quality of the sounds coming from the group. Peter Brook and Jerzy Grotowski (among many others) were influenced by the company’s work. Though Harold Pinter would note after observing

Hart with the company: “He had a remarkable presence and what he did with his voice was an extraordinary gift and skill . . . But I wouldn’t touch it with a barge pole because of the power he assumed and was invested in him. It seems he was using it to investigate .

. . [pause] the souls of those around him” (Pinter as interviewed and quoted by Pikes, 82).

Pinter went on to question, “the role of therapist is a highly responsible role, and this worried me. What right had he to make these investigations?”

The Roy Hart Theatre moved in 1974 into what is now The Roy Hart Centre in

Margulies, France. Less than a year after the move, Hart died tragically in a car accident.

The group, however, would go on to further the work while many original members, including Richard Armstrong, continue the work through both the center and their own teaching practices.

32 It is of note that in the previous case study, Mary Starks Whitehouse also derived her work in Authentic Movement from her foundation as a Jungian Psychologist. This strong connection to psychology and therapy modalities will be addressed more fully in chapter 5.

4.7 Practice As Research: A Method Observed, Richard Armstrong-International

Voice Workshops

Day 1

The workshop begins with Richard Armstrong having us sit in a circle on the stage of the theatre at the Banff Centre. Along with introducing ourselves, we are asked to describe how we feel about our voices. This launches people quickly into stories of injuries, insecurities and limitations that they experience with their voice. One woman cries, describing a current issue with her voice that seems to be connected to personal loss in her relationships. Others have stories of judgement, mistakes and failures. The question levels the playing field as all, from the completely inexperienced student to the classical singer, express vulnerability. Armstrong says a phrase he will repeat many times throughout the workshop, “the voice is the audible manifestation of who you are”.

The group then moves into the first exercise: rolling. We lie down on the floor and roll slowly to the other end of the theatre. We do this multiple times with the entire stage becoming an undulating mass of bodies moving from one side to the other. We then lie still on the floor and learn “dark breathing”; a term that refers to a full breath that holds the sound of the air inside it—sounding much like the wind as it moves across a plain in a storm. We lie there and breathe this deep connected breath until being asked to add a half roll movement from side to side in time with the breath. Our bodies move from lying on one side to flat on our backs to the other side and repeat. We are then paired up, with one partner remaining in the dark breath and side to side roll while the other assists by matching his partner’s breathing and scooping the other person’s body into the fetal position when he or she rolls to each side.

After a break, the dark breath is again utilized in partnered work with one partner across from the other. When partner A breathes a dark breath and vocalizes, the other partner is instructed to encourage them with phrases like “you’re doing great”, “yes”,

“wonderful”, “more”. While this initially felt contrived and a little puerile, the encourager actually made the exercise take on a very nurturing feel and participants gained greater comfort and confidence. This greatly assisted the transition into voice work with complete strangers, as next we worked on resonators with Armstrong at the piano.

(Armstrong seamlessly crafted the next three days in a similar fashion, flowing from one exercise to the next. He ultimately took a nervous group of participants to a final performance that none of us anticipated. In this way Armstrong’s creative pedogogy prevents nerves and encourages vocal risk.)

Resonator work with Roy Hart distinguishes sound regions of the body using the metaphor of violin, viola, cello and double bass. Armstrong begins this work through character. The violin is an elf, the viola a diva, cello a duchess and double bass a gangster. The character work is first physical: for violin we move silently like a gremlin before adding a vocalization in the sinus resonators. This pattern of embodied, silent, and then vocalized work is repeated for all the resonators. Armstrong also uses it to continue the work as an ensemble, while allowing each person to vocalize alone (i.e. everyone else continues the silent character acting while each member of the group has a chance to vocalize the resonator sound alone, thus taking away the sense of performance and continuing to engage the entire group in the exercise).

On this day we also work on dynamics. Armstrong has us circle the piano he is playing, and run as a group towards and away from the piano while singing “pian-O” at

100 his leading. The distance and speed of us running to and fro creates a variance in dynamics and serves the dual purpose of also loosening us up around the piano

(preventing anxiety in anticipation of singing). The next technique Armstrong introduces is to embody a character through mime, then vocalizing while doing this acting as we sing scales. This time the acting exercise operates on an impulse of suspicion; participants point at someone in suspicion, wavering between certainty and doubt all while sustaining a note. The notes Armstrong plays become sustained longer and longer, requiring further breath support but the exercise remains playful due to the character element.

Next, pitch is introduced. Armstrong tells us all to sing a sustained note on whichever pitch we desire, then by listening to the group around us we are to slide up and down the scale until the entire group is on the same pitch. The first and second times we do this, everyone but one male arrives at the same pitch. The group stays on the common pitch while many people look at the individual to indicate he needs to correct his pitch.

Armstrong points out that it is the group who actually failed to continue to slide down to meet his pitch. It also leads into a discussion of the “historical male” and “historical female” voice. The individual who was at another pitch was actually singing one octave below the group note and could not hear he was on a different pitch. Armstrong explains that this is due to male conditioning to sing an octave below a woman’s melody line.

Armstrong then plays for us the typical male and female sung ranges which only differ by a few notes indicating that the male and female voice are more similar than they are different and don’t need to be put in such restrictive boxes.

Day 2

101

The morning begins similar to day one with the group sitting on the floor in a circle. Armstrong inquires about our dreams the night before. This interest in dreams and their relationship to revealing the voice is mentioned by Pikes in his book about the Roy

Hart Theatre as well. Hart similarly felt that it was important to touch on the unconscious realm to understand the voice, resonating with his connection to Jungian psychology. In our group there was one pupil who had experienced a significant emotional response to our voice work the day before and had excused herself from participating in the afternoon explorations. Her dream seemed to be incredibly pertinent to her response the day before, and held some discoveries of her voice moving forward. I hesitated to share as I had experienced a nightmare the night before which prevented me from feeling rested, and I had spent the morning in a lingering residue of the anxiety it had produced. After everyone else had shared I mentioned my fearful night. Instead of dismissing this (as I was doing internally), Armstrong immediately addressed it, going so far as to get volunteers in my hall to whom I could turn to if a similar event occurred. This discussion continued the connection of the psychological to the voice in this method of voice work. I resonated with this as the inclusion of my individual experience the previous evening allowed me to be fully present without fighting hidden baggage. Armstrong operates in such a way that the personal is an obvious realm to be included with voice work; he repeats, “the voice is the audible manifestation of who you are.”

The morning explorations focus on an exercise about an X each of us had marked somewhere on the stage floor with red tape. This X becomes a point of departure and return as Armstrong has us imagine that X as our breath, meaning that to take a breath we must physically return to it. Sound is incorporated with the X so that we can sing and

102 move as much as we want, but must return to that X to take in the next breath. This exercise brings up different responses as some encounter sensations and fears like drowning, and others come to feel attached to their “point of inspiration.” This term is used for the X as Armstrong has us explore the breath as a point of impulse and creativity. As a “point of inspiration,” the X is literally and metaphorically the inspiration for the voice and body. The exploration is furthered by imagining the X on another student as we all move around. This prevents the point of inspiration from being predictable as often the chosen person will be moving on their own journey so finding him or her creates a sense of urgency in and of itself. We then divide into groups and

Armstrong gives each group a theme or motive (e.g. trying to finding a word to speak as a group). There is immediately a drama and occasionally a desperation in these vocal narratives. Most notably, we are by this point improvising vocal scores as a group with narrative without an awareness of performance. In the afternoon the work returns to the piano. Range and passagio are explored and Richard stops to talk about this “break” in the voice. This is one of multiple times when Armstrong takes issue with classical nomenclature; he sees the break not as a negative but as a “bridge” or a sound to be explored and even played with, noting that in some forms of singing (such as flamenco) the passagio is purposefully utilized instead of avoided or smoothed over as it is in classical music. As we sing through our ranges in cyclical fashion, going over this bridge multiple times, we hear the falsetto on the high end of the notes. A number of the men have difficulty with this, with two unable to pass over the “break” and enter head voice.

One man has a particular emotional memory response recalling his sisters taunting him in childhood when his voice would “crack”. Armstrong notes that this is a very common

103 issue within the male voice and often originates in puberty with the voice accommodating by remaining below the falsetto. He renames it “truesetto”, stating it is just as much a part of the true voice as the rest of the range. After discovering the root, the man is able to access his falsetto the rest of the day with another male hitting high into the soprano range. Classifications such as Soprano/alto/tenor are also dismissed as proven by the male student singing within the soprano range. Instead, in the Roy Hart work there is a focus on the unity of the “unchained voice”, which can fill 8 octaves and not only be expressed through classically accepted sounds. Armstrong also frees up the idea of being on pitch by joking that “notes don’t like to be hit.”

For the rest of the day we work on pitch in combination with resonators. The four resonators introduced the day before (violin, viola, cello, double bass) are used with different pitches, allowing us to separate the idea of pitch and resonator so that a high pitch in falsetto can still resonate low in cello or a low pitch resonate high in violin. We pair up, with one partner conducting pitch on one hand and indicating resonator on the other. This exercise is at first incredibly hard but immediately new sounds are found.

Richard encourages us to explore these “nooks and crannies” often ignored in our voice.

We are left with the homework of playing with these resonators in a new way with a familiar song.

Day 3

Day three is a culmination of the work on range, resonators and inspiration introduced in the two previous days. We now are working on a song of our choosing, playing with different resonators all at once so no one is performing and the theatre is a cacophony of sixteen songs being sung simultaneously. As this is our first time singing a

104 song instead of improvisation and call and response formats, the nerves and pressure of singing seem to edge back for many of us. I sing my piece in the corner of the room with my back to the group, allowing a sense of privacy and safety. I feel Richard’s hand on my shoulder pulling me around as he invites me to sing to the group (even though they are all immersed in their own work and not looking at me). He says, “What you are doing is lovely; share your voice.” I immediately begin to cry, the deep vulnerability of sharing my singing voice immediately apparent to me, but I sing, helped by the fact that everyone is busy focusing on their own song. I find this emotional response particularly interesting as not even a month previous I sang this same aria as a performance for my Opera final without tears. Yet now, with this new raw sound and without the rigidity of an outside in technique33, I feel naked, the song completely new. Armstrong moves us into partners to sing our pieces (still exploring resonators) to each other, then into groups of four, and finally dividing us into two groups of eight for our final project. In these groups we are given thirty minutes to sing our pieces to each other and come up with an order for the pieces that makes some sort of arc with transitions between the pieces, utilizing movement, resonators, pitch, dynamics learned over the past two days and including at least one new sound in each, exploring the nooks and crannies of the voice, including the group chorally in each other’s pieces, and then returning to sing these for fifteen to twenty minutes for the other group. Yes, somehow this man has formatted this three-day workshop into solo performances with group movement, and choral pieces without any of us even realizing it. Somehow, the same people who three days earlier admitted the deep and secret judgments on their voices, are now singing with confidence, range and risk.

33 As opposed to the method that Richard speaks of wherein technique is formed through experience, an ‘inside out technique’, where technique is formed over time.

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The two group pieces are full of discoveries and beauty. I recognize a newness in my own sound but also in my enjoyment of singing as performance. We are all elated and congratulatory afterwards. When another pupil mentions how strong the structure of the workshop was to bring us all to this point, Richard is pleased, noting that part of his goal is to distract students away from the fact that they are in fact singing. In this way, technique is formed through experience.

4.8 Conclusion

From the beginning, Roy Hart voice work has broken the boundaries set up by classical and traditional voice and singing methods. This has also meant that the original company and the present work often dismissed former nomenclature and re-articulated the work, taking away set classifications of voice types (soprano/alto/tenor/baritone), instead focusing on the unity of the voice and its malleability to be all these types. It also rejects the separation of male and female voice teaching, proving in performance that gender can cross between these vocal classifications. The boundaries into the psyche are similarly crossed, with “technique” being mentioned less than dreams and emotions. The primal sound that Wolfsohn first heard in the trenches is transformed into a way of approaching voice that attempts to express and experience the whole range of humanity and sound from breath to breath, from baby’s wail to final exhalation.

IV Case Study Summation

Both case studies exemplify the importance of active articulation integrated into practice. While Embodied Practice™ and Roy Hart voice work differ in the form of language utilized, the need to clarify, expound and evolve with words in order to define

106 the practice and the experience of the practitioners is common. Furthermore, Jungian psychology is a common influence on both practices. Indeed, psychological approaches in general are a common thread woven through much of voice and movement training.

While from this side of the research it is clear that voice and movement training bring up memories, emotions and psychological blocks, it is also true that much of this work—

Embodied Practice™ and Roy Hart included—actually originated from a therapeutic method and was later applied to the performer. As such, the psychological and physiological responses are not only possible but to be expected. It is vital, as both Koltai and Armstrong have employed, to have an active and ongoing articulation of the work and the responses to allow participants a level of understanding and agency in work that is far deeper than mechanical technique; it requires openness of heart, mind and soul in an endeavor to further the range and expression of the body and voice.

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Conclusion: The Implications of Language used within a Pedagogy for an

Emotionally Responsive Medium

Voice and movement studies are essential in actor training, perhaps today more than ever, as technology and lifestyle have reduced a former historical frequency of pedestrian movement and oral communication to computer based messages and sedentary positions. According to Statistics Canada, undergraduate students are on average between

18-24 years old (Dale), and as such the elements of youth, psychological maturity and personal development are issues that come into play in the classroom. Voice and movement teachers have an important but challenging job of guiding young actors through exercises that aim to increase their range, expression and connection vocally and physically for their roles and characters. Yet at the same time, this very work can often bring up individual psychological and physiological responses in the students that are unique to each student’s history, upbringing and personality. The teachers are then tasked with the job of instructing in a field that inherently contains the emotional, without crossing the line into becoming the students’ therapists.

The first point that is important to recognize is that many of the founders of current voice and movement modalities recognized the therapeutic crossover of the work.

In chapter one it is apparent that a number of the master teachers and founders were also therapists or psychologists (Whitehouse, Koltai, Lessac), while others were clear in their therapeutic application of techniques (Wolfsohn, Hart, Laban), and still others acknowledge the psychological result without the intention to create it (Rodenburg,

Linklater, Alexander). The emotional aspect of voice and movement work has been acknowledged and often built into the methodologies since their creation. As such it is

108 fruitless to enter the discussion as a teacher within these methods with an attitude of denial or distance towards the psychological and physiological responses of the work.

Furthermore, Figure 1 and 6 show the century long trend for the methods themselves to influence each other and often to intermingle. Rather than lineages forming single vertical lines, the chart shows how they intertwine with only a few degrees of separation connecting them to each other. This is not to diminish the individuality of each and the often contrasting if not conflicting methodologies present. But the interviews with teachers from across North America show very clearly that practitioners, even when specializing (and being certified) in a single discipline, often teach from a self-made conglomeration of many methodological influences. Not a single teacher claimed to only teach one technique, and many named between four and seven as parts of their regular curriculum. As such, the method lineages, while being respected as their own practices and histories, can also be seen as a funnel. This funnel in a modern day context means two important things: 1. There is a commonality among practitioners and teachers despite the use of different techniques, and 2. Language may evolve in unintentional or unconscious ways. The first point, I believe, is a healthy one and allows students to be exposed to a wider variety of approaches, enabling them to find what fits them individually. The second point is a problematic one. As methods interact so do their vocabularies which, without rigorous attention to articulation, leads to a greater generalization of meaning. Even worse, beyond generalization meaning can be lost all together as the understanding of a specific term within one practice may be misused within the context of another practice. To add further complications, many undergraduate students are not taught the history of the methods they are coming in contact with and

109 may perceive a third meaning devoid of methodological context. This cycle inevitability leads to a point where articulation is individual rather than acknowledged across the field, leading to great difficulties in clear communication regarding experiences in the work, including physiological and psychological responses in the students. A focus must be placed on clear and consistent articulation within individual practices in order for dissemination to occur that can be understood with clarity across the methods.

Furthermore, this rigor of articulation must be utilized within the classroom so that students will gain an understanding of meaning, context and experience within their training.

Another element that this thesis has explored is the neurobiology, neuropharmacology and psychology inherent in voice and movement training. Through key discoveries over the past century, the chemical and biological workings of emotions are beginning to be defined. While there is a great wealth of knowledge yet to be discovered in this area, Pert, Ledoux and others have found that the body, not just the brain, can be considered the locus of emotions. This relationship is summed up by cognitive neuroscientist Aaron Seitz as “the two (brain and body) are an indissoluble union. The implication is that we literally think with our bodies” (as quoted by Caldwell

52). The late neuropharmacologist Candace Pert in her book The Molecules of Emotion, posits that “the body is the unconscious mind” (141) and that memories, through a series of chemical processes, may be stored within the body. Amy Cuddy’s work on the power of body positions to alter mood and hormones (and decision making) reveals yet another layer of the science of the exercises practiced in the voice and movement classroom.

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Based on this scientific research there are great pedagogical responsibilities for voice and movement teachers. First, teachers have a greater responsibility in understanding the implications of their work. Judith Koltai, for instance, speaks to this by planning body work that naturally stabilizes the student. For instance, she would spend time working with the feet in order to ground participants before moving on to delicate work on the head and neck. Many experienced teachers know this intuitively through years in the studio, but it is important that the information moves to both conscious and common knowledge for all practitioners. This means that not only is it their pedagogical responsibility to create curriculum around an understanding of the physiological and psychological responses—which are biologically connected to the positions and breathing of the exercises—but also to articulate this information to students. For many students, articulating what is happening in these responses on a concrete and biological level can reduce, if not remove, the fear from the experience, allowing the response to move through them. This then allows them to continue on with the work.

Through the research study with students and teachers in chapter three, there is statistical evidence that the majority of students are affected personally by voice and movement training. The great benefit is that it appears that for most students this affect is positive. However, the depth of emotion and psyche that are being affected must be respected by the teacher. Also students must be informed about the nature of the work as well as their right to set their own boundaries. As the classroom is by its nature hierarchical, care must be used by the instructor to empower students to have a sense of personal control in their training. Furthermore, there are a number of situations that require additional resources. As mentioned by a number of the teachers interviewed,

111 having access to the counsellors on campus, and in extreme cases emergency medical services, is essential.

Not only are these responses occurring in classrooms and on occasion inducing acute physiological or psychological stress, but they are also occurring more frequently.

In her chapter in The Vocal Vision, Kristin Linklater states, “acting teachers, voice teachers, and movement teachers are finding that exercises which they have used for years in successful pursuit of theatrical ends have, in the past five or ten years, been triggering responses in their students of an increasingly emotional nature, and sometimes stimulating memories that may seem inappropriate to the training task at hand” (5). Why this is could be hypothesized around many changes in society, but these responses nonetheless are increasing and as such require research and articulation to have an informed and prepared pedagogy. Teaching the work without resources and understanding of this is negligent and could potentially harm students.

In the case studies in chapter four, this awareness and articulation is already in place. Both Koltai and Armstrong exemplify contrasting, though equally effective, modes of articulation. Both acknowledge the deep psychological and physiological connections in their methodologies and articulate this understanding in their teaching. Koltai is frequently researching recent developments and passing on cross-disciplinary breakthroughs in her master class. When I attended, for instance, we read articles and discussed discoveries regarding mirror neurons. Both Koltai and Armstrong have decades of experience and shape their classrooms into safe environments. In this way they are both exemplary, and show the amount of rigor and dedication that needs to be adhered to in order to create safety and growth for students.

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The articulation of the role of physiological and psychological responses by participants in the classroom is key for them to understand and claim their own experience. Equally important is the teachers’ articulation of these responses not only for their students but also so that they are able to communicate their teaching experiences and findings with clarity to other practitioners, and disseminate it to the wider community. Disseminating this knowledge has far reaching implications beyond performance training into cross disciplinary research in psychology, medicine and rehabilitative therapies. Further articulation would lead to greater clarity within and between modalities of practice in voice and movement training. It would also serve students as a strong foundation of body awareness paired with the language to communicate it. This could lead to enabling individual emotional boundaries within acting, helping actors avoid negative retraumatization (as seen in studies by Paula

Thomson outlined in chapter three). Greater articulation could also allow further interdisciplinary and cross disciplinary communication. Currently there are very few scientific studies based on actors and actor training. Specifically noted by Goldstein (in chapter 3) visual artists and musicians have oft been the subject of research by psychologists, but the field of drama has lacked the same study. A greater clarity of articulation within the field would allow outsiders, such as psychologists, a point of entry.

Furthermore, the more that is known about the psychological and physiological responses in actor training, the greater the ability for this work to be used in therapeutic applications outside of performance.

Voice and movement training matters, it is key to developing the actor but as this thesis shows, it also develops the artist as an individual. This is a great gift. It is also

113 fragile territory, to be tread on with care and expertise. Pedagogy must include a detailed articulation of the psychological and physiological responses in voice and movement training to support and explain the felt experience. Furthermore, as indicated by

Linklater, if these responses are increasing in the classroom, resources must be directed to the issue through research and treatment. Especially in a university or college environment, counselling services must be available when needed. Lastly, articulation is an exploration—one that requires bravery and persistence. It will not emerge overnight.

However, if motivated by curiosity and disciplined with great rigor, voice and movement can be strengthened through an articulation that safeguards the students, brings clarity to the pedagogy and allows the great discoveries within the studio to be disseminated.

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Appendix

Student Questionnaire 1 – Fall Term

Your responses are confidential and will be kept anonymous; you do not have to answer any question you do not wish to answer. This study, which is part of a graduate thesis, is to look at the ways voice and movement training affect students and the language it is described in.

1.Handle: Please create your own false name that you will remember for the next questionairre. This allows your responses to be collected anonymously.

2. Are you studying Voice or Movement?

3. Why are you taking this training?

4. Have you previously taken any voice and/or movement training? If so what have you taken?

5. While doing vocal training have you experienced a significant emotional response to an exercise? If yes, what words would you use to describe that experience in: A. your body B. your thoughts and feelings

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6. While doing movement training have you experienced a significant emotional response to an exercise? If yes, what words would you use to describe that experience in: a. your body b. your thoughts and feelings

7. What do you think are the benefits of voice and/or movement training (if any)?

8. What do you think are the emotional or psychological risks of voice and/or movement training (if any)?

9. Have you experienced an emotional or physical response from voice work (or movement work) before? If yes can you recall what brought on the response and describe the response?

10. Is there anything else you would like to add?

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Student Questionnaire 2 – End of Spring Term

1. Handle Please type the handle that you used at the start of the school year so that your results can be grouped together.

2. Did you take both Voice and Movement this year?

3. Do you feel taking this training was important for you? If, yes, why?

4. How has your experience this year differed from previous training in voice and movement?

(ie. in what ways did it progress or develop you if any)

5. This year, while doing vocal training have you experienced a significant emotional response to an exercise? If yes, what words would you use to describe that experience in: A. your body B. your thoughts and feelings

6. This year, while doing movement training have you experienced a significant emotional response to an exercise? If yes, what words would you use to describe that experience in: a. your body b. your thoughts and feelings

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7. What do you think are the emotional or psychological risks of voice and/or movement training (if any)? Did you feel you experienced risks this year in your training?

8. Is there anything else you would like to add?

9. Do you feel that taking Voice/Movement classes this year as part of your Drama degree has affected you personally beyond your training as an actor (ex. emotionally, physically)

Not at all In little ways Somewhat Yes it has carry over into my life Absolutely, I notice a real difference

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Teachers - Interview Questions

Interview script for Voice and Movement Educators and/or Professionals to be asked in person, over the phone or by email.

Your responses are confidential and can be kept anonymous by request; you do not have to answer any question you do not wish to answer. This study, which is part of a graduate thesis, will look at the ways voice and movement training affects students and the language used to describe both the impact of training and student responses.

1.How long have you worked in the field?

2.How long did you train first? In which methods did you train (e.g. Linklater, Laban etc.)?

3. For what reasons do you choose to study and work in this field?

4. Has your study of voice and/or movement ever affected you outside the studio? In what ways specifically: emotionally, psychologically, and physiologically?

5.What do you see as benefits of your training in terms of your non-professional life

(personally) if any?

6.Do you feel there were any risks physically or psychologically in your training? If yes, please describe.

7.Is there anything else about your voice and/or movement training you would like to comment on?

8.What aspects of your training do you utilize most commonly in your teaching?

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9.In your classroom do you perceive personal change in your students in connection to their training in voice/movement? If yes, could you give a specific example?

10. What risks, physically or psychologically do you perceive in this training in the classroom (if any)? Can you share an example?

11. In your curriculum what goals do you set in terms of actor development a.physically b. psychologically c. emotionally?

12. In a class situation where a student has a significant personal emotional response during training how do you deal with it with the student? If you have experienced this, how do you put it in context to the class who has witnessed it? In such a situation how has your understanding of the work evolved? Please provide an example.

13.In a class situation where a student has a significant personal physical response during training how do you deal with it with the student? If you have experienced this, how do you put it in context to the class who has witnessed it? In such a situation how has your understanding of the work evolved? Please provide an example.

14.Is there anything else you would like to add?

Thank-you for your time

Certificate of Institutional Ethics Review

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