A World Without Touch
By Caitlin McCarty
Recently, I read an article written in 2010 by Dacher Keltner about human touch. Keltner starts the article writing, “A pat on the back, a caress of the arm—these are every day, incidental gestures that we usually take for granted...”
Keltner goes on to express the importance of human touch and how it connects us, how it is “our primary language of compassion, and a primary means for spreading compassion.”
I think touch is something we have all taken for granted, and the last year in a COVID reality has been a wakeup call, on many levels. Touch is so important for me, in so many different parts of my life. I’m a hugger - always have been and always will be. I like to greet people and leave people with a hug to show them I care deeply about them. I enjoy holding my husband’s hand and hugging my parents long and often.
Images/Caitlin McCarty.
Touch is an integral part of my existence and if I’m being honest, the last year has felt lackluster without it. Touch even plays a role in my professional life. My dance company, Collateral & Co., began rehearsing in-person in January 2021 for our next show. Six feet of distance is our new norm in the studio and touching is non-existent. In this project, a series of dance films will premiere at the Nevada Museum of Art on July 16, 2021, with another showing at The Virgil this July 21, 2021, we use a wing-back chair as a prop for each of the soloists. The wing-back chair reminds me of the chair my Grandfather used to sit in. As a child I would crawl into my Grandfather’s lap, and he would run the back of his hand up and down my cheeks. My Grandfather passed when I was 10 years old, but I still remember the moments of solitude we would share in that chair.
I have been creating dance in the Reno community for the last four years. My choreographic work explores the intricacies of the human experience, and I am inspired by the small, seemingly inconsequential moments, as well as the large, awe-inspiring moments. I find that I echo these instances in my choreography, acceding to small moments and exploring the inevitable, drastic changes presented by the human experience. Working without touch has been a completely different experience, however. It has felt drastic, but at the same time it has felt small and inconsequential. You can still make dance without touch, right?
Before the pandemic, during rehearsals I would walk my dancers through contact improvisation games— games where they pair up and manipulate one another’s bodies in order to generate choreography. These games are a way for us to not only create more interesting and personal choreography, but a way for the dancers to connect physically, mentally, and emotionally. I find the more choreography we make without touch, the more it feels incomplete or like there’s something missing. How can I portray the human experience when touch is such a large part of that experience?
Keltner explains, “The benefits [of touch] start from the moment we’re born. A review of research, conducted by Tiffany Field, a leader in the field of touch, found that preterm newborns who received just three 15-minute sessions of touch therapy each day for 5-10 days gained 47 percent more weight than premature infants who’d received standard medical treatment.”
And who’s to say that this need for touch doesn’t continue as we grow older? Touch is a way to connect, to express emotion, to show compassion. And when we dance on stage or screen and we physically touch one another, this touch is translated to audience members. Not only do you see this connection, but you can feel it as it happens between two dancers. Dance, like touch, creates connection, expresses emotions, and shows compassion without having to say anything at all.
So how do we remedy this lack of touch in our choreography, or do we? In our newest show, Felt Like Five, we attempt to bring to life the feelings of the pandemic through film, dance, and poetry at five different locations. We have used the same choreography at each location and have slightly altered it to make it mimic the challenges of the last year— this feeling of slight change and movement forward, only to be dragged back to square one. Much like the last year, the choreography feels slightly redundant in a way that keeps you on your toes, hoping there will be change. We use poetry to bring each location to life and focus on this last year that has felt like five. The dancers manipulate their own bodies and soloists run their hands up and down the wing-back chair. In our videography, we focus on the hands, the camera moving closer to the dancers to focus on that feeling of touch and closeness to which we all have become sensitized.
I’m wondering where we go from here. When will it feel normal to sit closely to someone again, to touch in rehearsal, to create in a way that is physically and artistically satisfying? Is it as simple as getting back on a bike or will it be like ripping off a band-aid, slowly and then all at once?
Touch is like reading a poem that envelops you. Touch is like creating connection through a dance shared with an audience. Touch is integral to breathing, to communicating, to moving forward. A world without touch is no world at all.
Double Down Blogger image/Elspeth Summersgil.
Caitlin McCarty is a choreographer, dancer, and writer based in Reno, Nevada. She is the Founder and Artistic Director of Collateral & Co., a contemporary dance company that explores the intricacies of the human experience and investigates the nuances of everyday life through the exploration of written word, dance film, physical and emotional experiences, and bodily expression. Caitlin is currently pursuing her Masters in Business Administration at the University of Nevada, Reno.
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