In art, we often strive for perfection or something as close to perfection as we can get. In dance, the choreography must look effortless, as if it were improvised from the dancer’s soul. Even improvised dance should seem calculated and choreographed to the rhythms and meanings of a song. With so many rules to follow, the pressure to create something good and to perform well can be as present in the studio as the dancers themselves. But what if you decided to do everything wrong? What if, on purpose, you messed up the dance and moved out of time and in terrible form? You know the rules. What if you broke them?
In 2001, Jon Spayde published an article in the March/April edition of Utne Reader magazine, explaining how he and his wife, Laurie, did exactly that, but with arts and crafts. In “The Miracle of Mediocrity,” Jon describes weekly “Bad Art Nights” at his house. He describes a collage of different materials from oil pastels to chalk and a chatty group of “Bad Art Nighters” making art for its own sake. They don’t know what they will create or why, they just know that on Bad Art Night, there are “no standards, no expectations, and very high self-esteem.”
Jon describes how liberating it is to make bad art on purpose and suggests it’s a solution to burnout. “Paint an ugly, sloppy mess, and see how you feel,” he wrote. Bad Art Nights started as five minutes of collage before bed and became weekly hangouts with friends. At one point, Bad Art Night even blossomed into a community event, drawing friends and strangers to a rented studio. During the COVID-19 pandemic, Bad Art Night moved to Zoom.
People were drawn to the conversations and the ridiculous things they could create with miscellaneous supplies. The art was intentionally bad, and when they felt they were onto something good, they would destroy it, coloring over a good painting or adding mismatched details to an otherwise sensible composition. For Bad Art Night to work, no one can make good art, even by accident.
Imagine going to the studio with a few friends to dance badly. You could play your favorite music or play your least favorite songs. Every incorrect move or bad form would be something to enjoy and laugh about. On stage, you can’t miss a beat, but at Bad Dance Night (or Day!), the rules must be broken. Well-choreographed routines and sensible improv will be destroyed by spontaneous song changes and suprise duets.
Any well-loved skill can suffer from being overdone or over cared for. Dance might feel like your instinct. Every move you make has just a little bit of choreography. It’s how you interpret the world. But like misunderstandings and incorrect test answers, bad dance moves are good for growth. You can make mistakes on your own. You can, of course, make them accidentally. But making mistakes on purpose and in front of others? That’s a brand new avenue for letting go and building your confidence.
Gather your friends, let the music take you, and refuse to dance well. Bad Dance Night won’t last long enough for you to build any bad habits, but it will help you loosen up for intense studio days. Dance an ugly, sloppy mess, and see how you feel.
