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Having
a Fling With Highland Dance
By
Darrah Carr
 Scottish traditions keep dancers jumping in North America
Dancing to imitate a stag frolicking on the hillside. Dancing
over the sword of a vanquished enemy or on top of a shield
pierced by a spike. Dancing to keep warm outside of church
while waiting for the priest to arrive. Dancing to kick off
the hated English trousers and return to the beloved Scottish
kilt. Such are the colorful stories surrounding the origins of
Highland dance.
Highland dance, an athletic solo form, is preserved today
through a series of strict competitions. During Highland Games
(large outdoor gatherings to celebrate Scottish culture),
Highland dance competitions are found alongside contests
in piping, drumming, and sporting events such as the caber
(pole) toss. Scottish country dancing, a social form of couple
dancing, is also commonly performed during the Games. But the
genteel country dances should not be confused with the
strenuous Highland dances, whose origins lie with ancient
warriors and whose present-day participants debate whether
their skill should be classified as a competitive sport or an
art form.
Originally Highland dances were exclusively the domain of men.
Although it is difficult to separate folklore from historical
fact, these dances are widely believed to have originated as
tools for combat, as a form of military drill. Women did not
begin competing in Highland dance until the late 19th century.
Today, however, approximately 95 percent of all competitive
Highland dancers are female and the form suffers from the
common stereotype that dance is a girlish activity.
Nevertheless, men and women compete side by side during
Highland Games—a rarity in both dance and sports.
Since 1950 the Scottish Official Board of Highland Dancing (SOBHD)
has governed the competitive circuit, standardized the dances,
and certified Highland dance teachers and adjudicators.
Today’s dancers compete in four categories: the sword dance
(or gillie calum), Highland fling, Highland reel, and
seann triubhas (pronounced shawn trews),
which means “old trousers”; the dance celebrates the return to
wearing the kilt. Two character dances, the Irish jig
and the sailor’s hornpipe, have been included as competition
categories since 1986. All are solo forms; even the four
dancers in a Highland reel are judged on an individual basis.
Traditionally, all of the dances are performed to the
accompaniment of bagpipes. Each dance has a finite number of
steps, and the sequence of those steps is mandated by the
SOBHD. That means that Highland dance competitions are based
on the precise execution of specific steps rather than the
interpretation of individual choreography. Anne Sutherland,
owner of Sutherland Studio of Dance in London, Ontario,
Canada, for more than 40 years, describes the main criteria
for judging as “timing, or the ability to execute the correct
rhythms within the dance; technique, or the ability to have
one’s arms, feet, and head in position on the count; and
deportment, or one’s costume, posture, and carriage.”
Like ballet, Highland dance requires an erect, vertical
carriage, rounded arms, a wide turnout, and pointed feet.
According to Jennifer Pierson, who founded the Lakes Area
School of Highland Dance in White Lake, MI, four years ago,
“many of the terms used in Highland dance are the same as
ballet; for example, pas de basque, assemblé, and relevé.” The
shared characteristics are thought to stem from the “Auld
Alliance” between Scotland and France that joined the two
nations against England. Today, ties between the two dance
forms are more physical than political.
Sutherland’s competitive Highland dancers take four classes a
week: two Highland, one ballet, and one stretch and strength.
“I package these classes together to encourage
cross-training,” she explains. “In Highland we’re constantly
jumping and landing on the ball of the foot with a bent knee.
So the teacher has to make sure that the students do lots of
balletic pliés with the heels grounded in order to counter
that landing.”
Highland dance requires a huge amount of strength and stamina,
says Pierson. “No matter how much jumping we do, our heels
stay off the ground. [Some people] say that performing the
Highland fling is the equivalent to running a mile.”
Given the constant jumping and the unique landing position
required for Highland dance, shin splints, injuries to the
Achilles tendon, and stress fractures are potential hazards.
“Injuries are common. [Highland dance] is something that young
people do well,” notes Hannah Ramsey, a physical therapy
student at Massachusetts General Hospital’s Institute of
Health Professions and modern dancer who grew up
competing in Highland dance in her native Tennessee. For
Ramsey, this form of dance was appealing for several reasons,
despite the risk of injury. “For me, it is like gymnastics. I
think of it as a sport. I had a competitive drive from all of
my years playing sports and Highland dance became an outlet
for that drive,” she explains. “It also represents the culture
that I come from. It was my only outlet for my Scottish
heritage. It was so much fun to go to the Highland Games,
these huge gatherings that had so many different things going
on, not just dance. I met people from all over the country and
I always felt very excited. I didn’t feel the pressure that I
felt in ballet or modern. It was a cultural experience for
me.”
Highland dance has not yet experienced mainstream
globalization like its Celtic sister, Irish dance. The
majority of its participants are still of Scottish descent.
Given the history of Scottish emigration to North America, it
is not surprising that Highland dance is more popular in
Canada, which has approximately 5,000 registered competitors,
than in the United States, which can claim only about 1,000
competitors. Highland Games proliferate across both countries,
however, and the most serious dancers travel frequently to
compete. Scotland’s Cowal Highland Gathering, home to the
World Highland Dance Championship since 1934, is a pinnacle
yearly event.
In addition to the competition circuit, Highland dancers can
be found performing on Scottish holidays such as St. Andrew’s
Day (honoring the patron saint of Scotland), Burns Night
(commemorating Robert Burns, Scotland’s most famous poet), and
Tartan Day (celebrating Scottish descendants overseas).
Dancers are also in demand for Scottish weddings as well as
for the occasional concert with Scottish traditional
musicians. Many dancers quit competing when they graduate from
high school, while others become teachers and adjudicators.
But pursuing a performing career as a professional Highland
dancer is a road that has only recently begun to be traveled.
Ontario’s Scottish Dance Company of Canada, founded in 1996 by
Sandra Bald Jones, Joyce Kite, and the late Gladys Forrester,
seeks to provide professional performance opportunities for
champion Highland dancers. “After all of their years of
training, there wasn’t anything out there for competitive
dancers to do when they retired. They weren’t ready to stop
dancing, but they didn’t want to compete anymore. That’s why
we established the company,” says Jones. “We’ve been fortunate
to perform on TV specials, in large theater venues, and with
some of the top Scottish artists in our area.”
The New York Celtic Dancers, under the direction of Allison
Fippinger, are also creating alternative avenues to the
competition circuit. “We are a performing group that holds
classes in order to support our performances and to engage
people in Scottish dance,” Fippinger says. A typical
performance might include Highland dances, Scottish national
dances, and hard-shoe step dances. “We choreograph so that we
can use all of the traditions in one dance. We reenvision
older dances so that they are fresh for performance now,”
continues Fippinger. “Highland dances are solo dances that are
done on the spot; there is not a lot of movement. I try to
make them more dynamic so that the energy translates to the
audience.” By alternating figure dance patterns with Highland
dance steps, Fippinger makes greater use of the space and
physically moves the dancers around the floor. She also
researches older Highland dance steps that are not currently
used in competition. “Finding steps that are not known
increases my vocabulary as a choreographer,” she says. “Not
only do I use older Highland steps, but I often use more
modern music, choosing from a wide variety of Cape Breton
tunes or songs with lyrics. It will always be within the
Celtic realm, but it won’t necessarily be Scottish.”
Multimedia artist Laura Carruthers, a two-time Cowal
championship winner as well as a former soloist with Ballet
Arizona, finds inspiration in the music of renowned Scottish
fiddler Alasdair Fraser, cellist Natalie Haas, and guitarist
Mike Hoffmann. She and the musicians are currently
collaborating on the creation of Fire and Grace 2, to
be premiered at the Tempe Center for the Arts in April 2008.
Both a reference to Carruthers’ 1998 dance work Fire &
Grace as well as Fraser and Haas’ 2004 album by the same
name, the title of the production alludes to the image of the
warrior-poet. “Both fire and grace pervade the Celtic arts,”
says Carruthers. “There is the high energy that comes with
being fiery in spirit. Yet, the landscape, literature, and
people are delicate, beautiful, and soft.”
As with other dance forms, Highland dance can have life
outside of strict competition and traditional dictates.
Carruthers draws on her by-the-book training but uses Highland
steps and influences in nontraditional ways, melding them,
along with elements of contemporary ballet and jazz, into her
choreography and film projects. “Highland is a very distinct
and unusual part of my background,” she says. “It naturally
comes into whatever I do. It is indelible.”
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