Month: November 2018

Movement Workshop in Response to Last Week’s Tree of Life Synagogue Shooting

JoAnne Tucker / / Movement Workshops

There have been many meaningful interfaith services that have happened following the Saturday, October 27th tragedy at Tree of Life Synagogue. The one in Pittsburgh at Soldiers and Sailors’ Hall stands out in particular: music and inspirational words coming from so many different faiths reaching out to comfort, mourn and remember the 11 who lost their lives, and to show support and affirmation that we care and stand for each other.

For some of us, dance/movement is our means of connecting, processing, and affirming.  This week’s blog is an outline for a dance workshop that I would conduct for teens, adults and seniors in response to events such as the shooting at Tree of Life Synagogue, Columbine, Charleston, the nightclub outside of Orlando or any one of the 297 mass shootings that have occurred just this year. That is nearly a shooting for each day of the year. (A mass shooting, according to the Gun Violence Archive, is defined as when 4 or more individuals are shot or killed in the same general time and location.)

The killing of 11 members of Tree of Life Synagogue was particularly close to home for me. Murray and I grew up in Squirrel Hill just a few miles from where it happened.  I find myself filled with a deep sadness.  With it has come an even greater empathy for all those closely affected by the many mass murders in recent years.

How can I take these feelings and design an appropriate “mending or healing” workshop? First, who are the participants? I imagine that the group is made up of different ages, economic backgrounds, religious beliefs, races and sexual preferences. I envision that we share the need to express our feelings and let each other know that we are united in wanting to overcome the violence that is increasing in the U.S. We realize that if it is violence to one of us it is to all of us.  Our strength can come from our unity.

Usually when I am planning a workshop I research any inspirational text, paintings, music or poetry that I might want to weave into the workshop or to just be aware of, to have handy should the need arise. Always I keep in mind that the outline for the workshop is just that… an outline. The workshop is always building in response to those participating and the energy of the group.

I would probably begin in a circle with each member of the group sharing their name and a simple movement that matches the rhythm of their name.  As each movement is done, the whole group repeats it.  This immediately lets each person know they can make up a movement, teach it, and learn other movements.  By the end of this activity a group energy, trust, and comfort has been formed.  (This repetition of movement can be done either with the group copying only the newest movement shown, or with the group repeating all of the previous movements, in a cumulative chain – like “The Twelve Days of Christmas.”)

Mass murders trigger our emotions ranging from sadness to anger.  Fear also plays a part – this might happen to me or someone close to me.  So my outline begins with addressing these emotions by asking the group what emotions they are feeling right now.  Each emotion is then expressed in movement. Some options for this are:

  1. Sculpt the emotion.  One person comes into the center of the group and takes a pose (without speaking). The next person joins them, relating to the first person’s conveyed emotion in a complementary way. The first person leaves and a third person now enters taking another complementary emotional pose.  This continues and at an appropriate time a different emotion is sculpted.
  2. Allow each sculpture to build until about 5 people have joined, one at a time (with no one leaving).  Let the rest of group (those not sculpting) suggest a title for the sculpture that has been created.
  3. Make one giant sculpture with the whole group participating and then ask the group to move together in slow motion creating another shape conveying either the first emotion or another one.
  4. Ask the group to spread out through out the space. Each person is then to draw an imaginary circle around him/herself. This is now the space they have to move in.  Ask everyone to express fear, anger or sadness in their own defined circle.
  5. Take each of the 3 predominant emotions of fear, anger and sadness and have the whole group move throughout space expressing it. They may relate to another person but they may not touch each other.

After expressing the emotion explore how that emotion could be changed into some kind of positive action.  Divide the room into three parts, one area representing each of the three emotions.  Ask the participants to go to the area that represents the strongest emotion that they are feeling.

Each group is to discuss how they can use the emotion in a positive way and then share that in dance.  Some examples are: turning sadness into compassion by reaching out to comfort those in need; turning fear into providing protection; turning anger into a “march” or call to action (such as the Parkland students have done).

Each group should create a 16-count movement phrase showing their new response.  When all of the groups have created a phrase, have each group show its phrase and teach it to everyone in the room. [This does not have to be perfect! Like the simple warm-up, the whole group, at this point, is trying together to copy movements, immediately, as closely as possible; sharing the general essence of the created movements is more important than capturing precise details.]  Now the whole group has a phrase that everyone knows. Depending on the size of the group, timing and needs of the group, this could either be the conclusion or used to expand into a piece such as The Avodah Dance Ensemble did with direction from Louis Johnson and me in Make A Change.  Here’s the link to the blog where I describe this.

Another totally different approach, rather than focusing directly on emotions, is taking an image from nature — such as water, trees or light — that finds expression in different religions, cultures and myths and building the workshop based on this.

Since the recent incident happened at Tree of Life Synagogue, right now the tree would be a natural image to explore.  Quick research at Wikipedia got me started.  Here is the opening paragraph:

Trees are significant in many of the world’s mythologies and religions, and have been given deep and sacred meanings throughout the ages. Human beings, observing the growth and death of trees, and the annual death and revival of their foliage, have often seen them as powerful symbols of growth, death and rebirth. Evergreen trees, which largely stay green throughout these cycles, are sometimes considered symbols of the eternal, immortality or fertility. The image of the Tree of life or world tree occurs in many mythologies.

I probably would not read this to the group. I am only using this as a way to get started.  Perhaps I would bring in lots of different paintings of trees from my collection of art magazines or from my favorite photographer (Murray!), and we would explore some of the trees in movement, paying attention at times to the roots of the tree, the strong trunk, branches that are reaching in different directions (straight or twisted) and leaves that bud, bloom and fall.

Tree at Lake Abiquiu, New Mexico. Photo by Murray Tucker.

Bent Tree, outside of Ushuaia, Argentina. Photo taken by Murray Tucker.

Winter, Bosque de Apache, New Mexico. Photo taken by Murray Tucker.

Oil Painting by JoAnne Tucker of a damaged Aspen Tree.

The image of the tree in seasons is also very powerful in the quote from Wikipedia – growth, death and rebirth. Depending on the group these three words as they relate to the tree could be very strong motivators for dance.

Wikipedia also mentions a world tree. This could be used to create a large group improvisation where everyone creates and dances this world tree.  How can we support each other as part of this tree and move together helping each other to keep our balance and wholeness?

Going in another possible direction for the workshop (or to incorporate in the previous approaches), these quotes from Nelson Mandela have potential.

The greatest glory in living is not in falling, but in rising every time we fall.

I learned that courage was not the absence of fear but the triumph over it.

No single person can liberate a country. You can only liberate a country if you act as a collective.

If you want the cooperation of humans around you, you must make them feel they are important and you do that by being genuine and humble.

If you want to make peace with your enemy, you have to work with your enemy.  Then he becomes your partner.

Another quote that can be incorporated powerfully into the workshop is one that I first heard (a variation of) from Canon Lloyd Casson during a service at The Church of Saints Andrew and Matthew, when The Avodah Dance Ensemble participated one Sunday morning in the 1990’s. The quote is by Matthew Fox.

Create harmony and healing together. Celebrate, praise, and thank together. Cease using religion to divide. Use it for its purpose, to reconnect to Mother Earth, to blessings, to the underground river that I am and that you all share. And cease scandalizing the young by your indifference to these awesome blessings, by your competition, and your boredom. Praise one another. Praise the earth. In doing so, you praise me.

Focusing on Mother Earth and/or the underground river can provide excellent motivation for movement.

To conclude, in planning this workshop as in many others, it has been helpful to have the collaborative input from Kezia.  Finding someone to brainstorm with can make the planning of a workshop much easier and richer.  In conducting a workshop, I find having the assistance of a trained dancer familiar with my approach  builds momentum, especially for a large group.  And I would also ask Newman to bring his collection of percussion instruments to accompany us.  Having an accompanist such as Newman, who allows the participants’ movement to help motivate the sound, reinforces and further shapes the energy of the group.

Thinking about what I would do in dance at this time, in reaction to the Saturday, October 27th event, even if I don’t get to lead the workshop I’ve outlined, has had a calming and healing effect for me.  For some of us, our connection is through the creative sphere.  Thinking about dance, writing about dance, and of course dancing is my connection to the deep underground river.

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Feminism Meets the Bank: Building a Dance Studio

JoAnne Tucker / / Tallahassee

Tallahassee is a wonderful “lab” for me.  By this I mean, since there are no available academic positions — which is what I thought I was preparing for in earning my doctorate — I have to forge my own way.  This means finding opportunities and places to use my talent and add some  income to our household.  In the past blogs I’ve shared how Avodah developed, but I was also involved in other dance activities.  In this blog I’ll share some of my other dance endeavors culminating with designing, financing and building a dance studio.

I found work with the Tallahassee Arts Council particularly satisfying, presenting dance programs at local schools using local adult dancers or students from the dance program at Florida State University.  Among my favorite schools were the very small rural schools.  In the Tallahassee Democrat I’m quoted as saying, “When we went to places like Chaires or Concord (small rural schools), the children would laugh at us at first.  But after we started dancing, they were swept away.”   I also received grants from the Florida Fine Arts Council to take a dance and poetry program to counties surrounding Leon County where Tallahassee was located.  These school tours provided a good education for me that served me well later on.  Among the more humorous learning moments was when the male dancer, a new dance student at FSU, in his first performance on a school tour was not wearing a dance belt.  I’m not sure that many of the young children noticed but the faces of many of the teachers made it clear to me that I needed to speak to him as well as to some of the women about properly covering their anatomy.

One of my favorite collaborations was with a ballet dancer/teacher Carolyn Davis.  We did three projects together.  In the summer of 1974 we ran a three-week dance program for 6 to 16 year olds at the Jr. Museum.  It was a beautiful setting and may have influenced what I would soon look for as a setting for the studio I wanted to build so I could have my very own place to teach, choreograph and rehearse in.

Carolyn and I undertook a major collaboration in creating a ballet for the Tallahassee Civic Ballet. As Board members of the TCB we wanted to see it offer more challenging opportunities to the dancers and more stimulating programs to the audience.  We decided to work together setting our version of Midsummer Night’s Dream to Mendelssohn’s music. On another occasion we did a dance program for mentally retarded adults.

By the summer of 1974, I felt very much rooted in the community and decided that I indeed did want to build my own studio. By the end of the summer I had found and purchased an acre of land across from one of the elementary schools.  Next I found a builder and together we sketched what the studio would look like.  While this was my project, my husband Murray couldn’t have been more supportive and offered excellent advice such as building on only ½ the acre fronting the road so the other half could be sold at a later time if we wanted.  At the time we bought the acre there was little that had been developed in the area.   I also elected to buy at the end of the area zoned for office/residential and where the land went sharply downhill so that the windows of the studio would open to trees.  We also planned a lovely walk from the parking lot to the studio door so that one walked along a natural setting and up to a deck before entering the reception/office area.  The studio would be large, 40 by 50 so that informal showings could be held there.  The wall away from the windows would be the only mirrored wall and of course there would be a sprung dance floor with a good quality wood surface.   Those were the fun things to think about.  There were other things like septic tanks, surface for the parking lot, building permits, etc. that were not.

As I negotiated the project, the first thing I was asked by the men in charge of permits, or at meetings where I wanted information on building materials, was, “What does your husband do?”  At first, I was puzzled by this but when it kept happening over and over again I was annoyed and disappointed.  So one day, I came home, took my wedding ring off and never wore it again.  Murray understood!  From then on I was never asked what my husband did. However when it came to financing at the bank and filling out all the forms, they insisted that the only way I could get financing was with my husband’s signature.   Disappointing, indeed.  I did not want to abandon the project, so reluctantly I agreed.  Today I think this would have been very different although I wonder?? Ultimately we ended up forming a sub-chapter S corporation with the studio as the key asset.  We couldn’t own shares 50/50 in the corporation so one of us owned 51% and the other 49%.  I’m not sure which one of us had the extra shares.

The builder was easy to work with, that is, until the studio was nearly done, and he began making advances which I had to navigate around and strongly discourage.

Meanwhile all during the fall of 1974, I continued teaching dance classes at the Temple. Enrollment had greatly increased from the September article in the Tallahassee Democrat.  And so that winter with the studio complete, we held a grand opening party for The Creative Dance Center filled with dancing, laughter and joy.  My Mom, on seeing the studio and walking down the path and entering quietly said, “Oh I see, you have created a Perry-Mansfield here.” Perry-Mansfield is a wonderful performing arts camp in Steamboat Springs, Colorado, that I attended when I was 15 and will be writing more about at a later time.  The blend of nature and dance was so much a part of me, that I don’t think I was totally conscious of what I had done until my Mom noticed.

On the deck showing our setting in the woods.

Getting ready for the opening…

Enrollment continued to increase and soon I was adding other instructors to the faculty.  I also had my own clear philosophy about traditional dance recitals and end-of-the-year programs.  An informal culminating event where the older students danced a story such as The Wizard of Oz or Peter Pan creating their own movement was what I planned, with the younger children spontaneously dancing their favorite short stories as an open class.

The studio was very special to me.  As a family we were all involved.  The math talent of Rachel, my youngest daughter, became apparent when I would find her — a 2nd-grader — behind the desk figuring out people’s monthly bills faster than I could.  Both my daughters took dance classes, Rachel especially liking ballet and my older daughter Julie totally excelling in dramatic portrayals in dance as part of culminating events.  Murray joined me in disco dancing in open studio dance nights. Today Rachel, trained as an actuary, is currently a total rewards director and Julie a casting director. Neither of their professions, at which they excel, is a surprise to me.

Rachel (at left) in a culminating performance

Julie as the Witch inWizard of Oz

Ten years later, after we had moved to the New York City area, Murray negotiated and sold both the studio and the ½ acre lot next door. I was glad that I did not have to return for the closing, because as happy as I was to be in New York, I still would have been quite emotional.

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Memories of JoAnne Tucker in Tallahassee, Florida (1972-1976)

JoAnne Tucker / / Guest Posts, Tallahassee

Guest Blog by Carolyn Davis Oates

I am so proud to have had the opportunity to dance with you. You far surpassed the situation you were in when we first met.  Your achievement is stunning but not surprising; you always had the creative spark that drives an artist. But that was not so evident in Tallahassee in 1972.

I do not remember exactly when, but a friend of mine told me that her neighbor was a dancer.  Since you lived not too far from me, a few days later I was ringing your doorbell.  You were clearly not expecting company that morning.  I introduced myself and said, “I understand you are a dancer!”  I distinctly remember you replied, “I used to be a dancer.” You invited me in, and we talked for hours.   You said you were not doing any dancing now.  I was so excited to meet a neighbor with a background in dance from Juilliard, I knew right away that we had to find a way to work together.

Initially, you were reluctant.  You felt tied down with two young children, and of course I was primarily a classical ballet dancer and you did modern dance, so it did not seem we had a lot in common other than love of dance.  But we became good friends.  We both needed to lose some weight so we exercised and dieted together.  Soon you arranged to teach some dance classes at the Temple, and I assisted you.  Dance as a religious expression had never before occurred to me.

During the next year, we enjoyed returning to dance together. That summer (1974) we conducted a dance camp for the Tallahassee Junior Museum.  We were fully engaged in dance once more.  We collaborated on a full length ballet of Midsummer’s Night’s Dream for the Tallahassee Civic Ballet (1975).  You choreographed the fairies with modern technique, and I did the humans in classical form.  It worked perfectly and the production was very successful.

You were especially interested in dance as therapy, which was a fairly novel concept at that time. You won a grant to work with mentally retarded children.  About 10 students, most of whom were both mentally and physically handicapped, were selected for the program.  We devised interactive movements to assist them in expressing their emotions. There were some very difficult sessions when our students refused to participate, but there were also some very rewarding moments when a student who had not said a word suddenly joined in and showed new capability.  Colorful scarves, balls, costumes and other props were used to encourage them. Their progress during the program was eye-opening to me.

Soon you built a lovely modern dance studio on a wooded lot near our neighborhood.  I had to decline your invitation to teach in your new studio due to some personal difficulties at that time.  My husband and I separated and I returned to college for an MBA.  When I completed my degree, I took a job in Virginia, and we lost contact, but our relationship was an unforgettable part of my life for those years in Tallahassee.

Today, at 82, I am dancing again after a long hiatus.  I teach tap dancing and assist with a jazz class twice a week at my senior retirement community’s facility.  Dance is still therapeutic for me as I know it has been for you.  I tell my students, aged 60 to 85, that dance improves mental and physical health at all ages.  I know it really does.

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Gratitude for Early Influences

JoAnne Tucker / / Childhood

Whether it is building a dance studio, keeping a dance company running for over 30 years, starting a film company that has now has completed 7 films, or selling our art-work on ETSY, I realize a certain pattern in my life and work.  It is with deep gratitude I acknowledge two qualities that were wonderfully reinforced for me: creativity from my Mom and a sense of (and joy in) business from my father.

I am a war baby, meaning that shortly after my birth my father was drafted and went off to fight in WWII.  My Mom and I lived at his mother and stepfather’s house, a large three-story house in Pittsburgh that was filled with all kinds of energy. His stepfather was a family physician and his office was in the home with the waiting room at the front of the house.  My grandmother loved people and music. Their youngest child Bill was at that time a student at Carnegie Tech (now called Carnegie Mellon) and lots of his friends from the music and drama department filled the house.  As a young toddler I got lots of attention from them.  A cousin a year younger would visit and we were a bundle of energy.

I enjoyed pretending I was a Doctor.  When I finally became one, it was of a different kind!

Uncle Billy letting me play his cello.

Mom and I spending a few special moments with Dad when he was on leave.

My mom had lots of time on her hands so she encouraged my creative endeavors.  This continued throughout my childhood.  Although my grandmother took me to see my first touring Broadway show, Peter Pan with Veronica Lake, it was my Mom who took me to see Moira Shearer in Swan Lake when I was five or six and the Saddler Wells (now the Royal Ballet) came to town.  Mom continued to encourage me by enrolling me in dance classes and responding positively, as I got older, to ideas and projects I wanted to pursue.  When I wanted to teach dance classes in our basement to earn money she easily made it happen.  I always felt her support even as an adult. She enthusiastically came to performances, entertained the dance company members when we toured to where she lived and was always a good listener when I wanted to talk and talk about a creative project.

Mom (Dr. Janet Klineman) got her Ph.D. after we were grown up and had a career in Special Education.  She was very devoted to the complex children she worked with, and compassionate to their parents, showing them ways to help their challenging child.  It was only after she retired that she rediscovered her artistic talents. Her father had painted and she had done some painting when she was younger but nothing had come of it. She started taking classes in watercolor painting in Sarasota when she was close to 80 and continued painting until three weeks before she died at age 90.  In fact the last picture she did of her dog, Mickey, hangs in our house in a prominent place where I see it every day.  It is a daily reminder to me that nurturing and expressing my creativity is essential!!

Mom’s painting of Mickey.

My father was a salesman.  When he returned from the war he joined the company that his father (who died in the flu epidemic of 1918 or so) and uncles had founded, Majestic Sportswear.  I grew up hearing his enthusiasm for the line of clothes he was selling.  I remember sample sales at the end of the season.  At times I even helped him organize order forms.  So his business talk, including meeting goals and enthusiasm for what he was selling, was also an influence. While at times he didn’t understand “modern dance” and what I might be trying to express he never put it down and usually agreed to support what I was proposing.

As a teenager I joined Mom on a trip or two to New York City where Dad had quarterly sales meetings and I remember his tolerant and patient presence as he and Mom waited at stage doors while I eagerly got autographs from Julie Andrews after My Fair Lady and Susan Strasberg after Diary of Anne Frank.  Then there was another time in Pittsburgh when Mary Martin came to town in a one-woman show… while I waited to get her autograph Dad had a lively conversation with her chauffeur.  Later, after graduating high school and while I was studying dance in NYC and attending Juilliard, I would join him and several of his fellow salesmen for dinner and a night out in the City, often not getting home until 3 AM.

Both Mom and Dad were persistent, each in their own way, and so that quality coming from both of them has served me well.  In fact, Jennifer Dunning in The New York Times (recommending an Avodah concert) said, “There are not too many practicing choreographers of dance based on religious themes in these godless days. In her quiet way, JoAnne Tucker is one of the most persistent and one of the best, creating simple, luminous and heartfelt dances based on Jewish tradition” (January 9, 1998).

Of course both parents presented challenges and there are things I didn’t like about growing up in our household.  The older I get,these occasional memories fade further and further away.  Today I am filled only with deep gratitude for lessons learned from my parents.

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Reflection on the “Jews and Jewishness in the Dance World” Conference

JoAnne Tucker / / Current Dance Events, Movement Workshops

Let me begin by sharing the history of how and why I decided to go to this conference.  I saw a notice about it posted by Naomi Jackson on the National Dance Education Association bulletin board about a year and a half ago.  Shortly after seeing it, I received a copy of the notice from Elizabeth McPherson, who danced in Avodah for seven years and with whom I have kept in regular touch, often meeting on my occasional trips to NYC.  She wanted to make sure I saw it and wanted to encourage me to apply. What followed was a series of emails with Naomi, as I wondered what kind of presentations she had in mind, and then later emails with Elizabeth.  The conference seemed to be very broad, looking at “Jewishness” and dance from many different angles.  Since I have moved on from The Avodah Dance Ensemble and using Jewish themes as motivation for creating choreography or doing workshops, I wanted to share something that felt current to me now.  In discussions with Elizabeth the idea of presenting on Helen Tamaris came up.  She was a pioneer modern dancer, and Jewish, and most important to me, her work is the thread that influenced both the work that I did with Avodah and the work that I do now.  Perfect.

So we came up with the idea that Elizabeth and I would submit together.  She would share the history of Helen Tamiris, teaching one or two sections of Helen Tamiris’s Negro Spirituals, (see Blog Honoring Helen Tamiris on how we added Negro Spirituals to Avodah’s repertory) and I would share some ideas from studying composition with Tamiris. I was thrilled and while still feeling a sense of reluctance to attend, I felt very good about the presentation I would be part of.  And what a surprise I received.

Elizabeth presenting her paper on Tamiris.

Elizabeth teaching “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” from Tamiris’s Negro Spirituals

Naomi set up a Google Drive where we could all share information from books published related to Jewish dance, choreography by Jewish choreographers or pieces on Jewish themes.  Lots of sharing went on as well as discussions on a logo for the conference and individuals’ memories of important influences in their work.  I followed and did post a little.  My husband and good friend Regina commented to me that every time I mentioned the conference I made a strange face that clearly lacked enthusiasm.  I wondered what three days of the conference would mean for me and didn’t have high hopes.  And clearly I was not alone in feeling this way, as once there, this questioning came up in quiet conversations.  But the thank you’s after the conference, again using our connection through Google Drive, were unanimous in sharing how good and meaningful the conference was and hoping there would be more.

In addition to Elizabeth, my good friend and dance/film collaborator Lynne Wimmer decided to go to.  (See Blog on “In Praise” in Pittsburgh and watch the film “Through the Door” which we co-directed in 2016.) Lynne and I would be roommates and we looked forward to catching up on our recent adventures.  So I went knowing that at least I would be hanging out with people I really enjoyed. I also decided to drive so that I would have a car to make it easy to get around and do other things in the area should the conference be “boring.”  It wasn’t at all boring, but the car was helpful in enabling us to select restaurants that weren’t in easy walking distance.

The overall energy of the conference was a genuine sharing of who we are and our role in dance and how it might relate to our “Jewishness.” From presentations on key historical figures (such as ours about Helen Tamiris), to panels on dance therapy or how one’s choreography related to social justice, participants shared enthusiastically and audience members listened carefully and respectfully.  For the majority of the time slots of an hour and fifteen minutes we had to select which one of four presentations we wanted to attend and it was often hard to choose since all looked good.

The opening evening program on Saturday  was a selection of dance films curated by Ellen Bromberg, Professor at the University of Utah who teaches Screendance. I loved seeing an early film of Daniel Nagrin and the fun film techniques used in 1953 when the film was made.

Sunday night was a concert curated by Liz Lerman and Wendy Perron.  Outstanding moments from the concert were: a piece beautifully performed by college-age Maggie Waller; Send Off performed by Jesse Zarrit to a recorded text of Hanoch Levin focused on the Akedah (the binding of Isaac) from Issac’s point of view; and The Return of Lot’s Wife by Sara Pearson in which Lot’s wife finally confronts God in her 1950’s Brooklyn kitchen.  All pieces were beautifully danced and the last two I mentioned had a wonderful sense of humor to them.

A photograph from Torah in Motion: Creating Dance Midrash that I co-authored with Rabbi Susan Freeman in 1990 was included in the Exhibition of “Reimagining Communities Through Dance” curated by Judith Brin Ingber and Naomi Jackson.

From Torah in Motion: Creating Dance Midrash. Rabbi Susan Freeman working with students from Brooklyn Heights Synagogue.  Photo by Tom Brazil

I found the panel on Dance Therapy to have a lot of historical information and loved the presentations by two of the women, Miriam Berger and Joanna Harris. An intense panel “Exploring the Complex Relations Between Jews and non-Jewish Arabs through Dance” followed and stirred some interesting reflections on whether dance events can help build relationships.

Perhaps the most meaningful moments came the last day and were both experiential movement moments. One was leading the experiential part of our presentation on Helen Tamiris. Tamiris’s composition class focused on the use of gesture to build movement.  I chose to share a way I use this idea with non-dancers.  I asked each of the 15 participants to say one or two words of how they felt at the moment and then we went around with each sharing a gesture that fit their word.  It was an intergenerational group all with a strong dance background and as we built a phrase of our 15 gestures a warmth and community developed.

Later that day I attended a workshop by Victoria Marks and Hannah Schwadron called “Dancing Inter-connections.”  Again it was an intergenerational experience with over 30 participants.  One improvisation featured us finding the way to move in the space between us.  The weaving was fun to do and we had to be inventive to find the space between us. The ending improvisation focused on the word “lingering” in movement interactions. That was particularly rich and beautiful.  In the feedback afterwards one of the young college-age dancers mentioned how meaningful it was to dance with the older generation.  How she felt nurtured and empowered.  And how wonderful that felt, to hear it come from a young woman.

As I reflect back on the experience I am of course very glad to have gone. I loved the many new and renewed connections.  And I wonder whether it was the Jewishness or the dance that so resonated for me, or the combination. I am most grateful to Naomi Jackson for her leadership in maintaining an openness and inclusiveness within the intent of the conference.  Once again I am reminded of the important spiritual connection for me in dance, both by moving, myself, and being inspired by watching dance.

    Closing ceremony dance. Photo by Tim Trumble