art, and discuss its realistic power.

 

Only when gesture is subordinated to the absorbing importance of the idea--a

spontaneous, living expression of living truth--is it justifiable at all; and

when it is remembered for itself--as a piece of unusual physical energy or as a

poem of grace--it is a dead failure as dramatic expression. There is a place for

a unique style of walking--it is the circus or the cake-walk; there is a place

for surprisingly rhythmical evolutions of arms and legs--it is on the dance

floor or the stage. Don't let your agility and grace put your thoughts out of

business.

 

One of the present writers took his first lessons in gesture from a certain

college president who knew far more about what had happened at the Diet of Worms

than he did about how to express himself in action. His instructions were to

start the movement on a certain word, continue it on a precise curve, and unfold

the fingers at the conclusion, ending with the forefinger--just so. Plenty, and

more than plenty, has been published on this subject, giving just such silly

directions. Gesture is a thing of mentality and feeling--not a matter of

geometry. Remember, whenever a pair of shoes, a method of pronunciation, or a

gesture calls attention to itself, it is bad. When you have made really good

gestures in a good speech your hearers will not go away saying, "What beautiful

gestures he made!" but they will say, "I'll vote for that measure." "He is

right--I believe in that."

 

_Gestures Should Be Born of the Moment_