Journey: A Dance Piece about the Jewish Immigrant Experience

One of the main political talking points a year ago was how to reform U.S. immigration policies.  Today it is overshadowed by COVID-19.  Yet it is still a very important theme because immigration is a fundamental building block of the United States, and the current administration does all it can to block entry to the country. As director of the Avodah Dance Ensemble, I became fascinated with the Jewish immigrant experience to the U.S.  In 1985 I came across a book called Chaia Sonia, written by Don Gussow, describing the journey he and his family made to the U.S. (arriving in 1920).  After reading the book, I reached out to Don Gussow, asked to meet with him, and then asked for permission to use ideas from the book as themes for a new piece the dance company.  He was most enthusiastic, and generous with his time, and he strongly urged me to meet his son Alan Gussow as a possible collaborator on the project.  Alan and I met, and Alan began coming to rehearsals and became a key collaborator on “Journey.” I will be writing more about that later but first I want to share the result of a Google search to check the proper spelling of the title of the book Chaia Sonia.

I am never satisfied to see just what comes up on the first page of a search.  I usually continue for five to ten pages more, just because I often find fun surprises and additional information.  That is exactly what happened with the search for Chaia Sonia and Gussow.  First of all I was thrilled to see the book is still available and there is even a free download at one site, although I was reluctant to try it since it required registering and I wasn’t sure of the website.  What I did find was a YouTube video recorded by Don’s grandson Adam Gussow in July 2019. Adam has been a Professor of English and Southern Studies at the University of Mississippi since 2002.  But I knew about Adam because his father Alan often proudly shared that Adam was building a reputation as a harmonica player, and that was back in 1985.  Indeed Adam has built an outstanding reputation and is highly regarded for his blues harmonica playing. A review in American Harmonica Newsletter says that “Gussow’s playing is characterized by his technical mastery and innovative brilliance that comes along once in a generation.”  Futhermore there is a documentary on Netflix called Satan and Adam about Adam’s collaboration with Sterling “Mr. Satan” Magee.  It is a fascinating and well done documentary, covering from Adam’s first meeting with Satan (on Satan’s spot on a Harlem street) through their longtime collaboration.

I watched the full 23-minute video on YouTube with total attention.  And of course the opening title immediately caught my attention because its full version is so relevant to this blog.  The second line says, “All my people are immigrants – An American apologizes for the behavior of our president.”  It opens with Adam playing the harmonica and wow that just inspired my old bones to get up and dance.  Soon Adam begins speaking about his own family roots and in particular the book his grandfather wrote and how deeply he wants to apologize for the behavior of the president of the U.S.  I strongly urge you to watch it.  Here is the link.

Don Gussow, author of Chaia Sonia, was a publisher of trade magazines and wrote four books.  Chaia Sonia tells of his family’s flight through Poland and Russia to freedom. It is an incredible journey focusing on his mother, a courageous woman who led her family on a five-year journey from Lithuania to the United States, arriving in 1920.  

Current cover of Chaia Sonia, which is available at Amazon.  I remember a slightly different cover… but my memory could be wrong.

Before talking specifically about the piece “Journey” that we created, I want to share a little bit about Alan Gussow (1931-1997).  He had an outstanding, nearly 50-year career as an artist, author, activist/environmentalist and educator.  At age 21 he was awarded the Prix de Rome. He was introduced to art and in particular watercolor as a student at Middlebury College.  The following is[fix] an excerpt from a Fall 2018 article in the Maine Arts Journal, written by Carl Little, entitled “In Conversation with the World: Alan Gussow’s Watercolors”:

“As a student at Middlebury College in Vermont, I learned at least two things about art,” Gussow once recalled. “First, that art was magical. How I or any person could mix a little water with some paint and then make marks and shapes which look like parts of the world still remains a source of wonder.”….. “At Cooper Union where I studied for one year after Middlebury,” Gussow recalled, “I learned that art was a form of energy.” However nature-centered his art became, he consistently practiced a highly expressive approach to subjects, often entering realms of abstraction. 

It is interesting to note that in the 80’s Alan began experimenting with art as a process instead of a product. He brought wonderful energy into the process of our rehearsals.

As I continued developing ideas for the piece I decided that I wanted to reach out to others who had made a journey from Russia to the U.S. about the same time. I was lucky to know two other people with stories to share. One, Louis Siegel,was the father of a longtime friend of mine. We met and he shared his story.  I was immediately struck by themes similar to Don Gussow’s story. My husband’s Aunt Bess also recorded her story for us and again the same themes emerged.  These were long and difficult journeys involving crossing rivers, being hungry and sometimes stealing food.  

Rehearsals began with the five Avodah dancers at that time: Beatrice Bogorad, Jean Ference, Kathy Kellerman, Rachelle Palnick and Rick Jacobs.  Alan often joined us, sometimes with a very large piece of paper that he spread on the floor and enjoyed drawing on as we danced.  Ideas from the drawings later became a poster and invitation to our opening night performance.   We responded to the stories, creating an abstract piece with the desire to get to core of the experience, capturing the energy it took to make such a long and difficult journey.  I am not sure how successful we were with the finished product but the process was a meaningful and rich experience, at least for me, as the collaboration with Alan opened new doors and ways of thinking of things.   And interestingly, in researching for this blog, I feel a reconnecting with Alan.  I now look forward to studying his watercolors and learning from them, as well as from his writing, what I might apply here as I experiment with watercolor and enjoy time painting in our garden.

Page from Avodah Scrapbook showing the poster and invitation painted by Alan Gussow.
A favorite picture from “Journey.” Photo by Tom Brazil.

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Stillness

Right now the choreographer part of me is hungry for a group of dancers, and what I would want to explore with them is stillness.  Why stillness?  I hunch it is my reaction to the time we are in and the necessity of sheltering in our home.  How do we handle this? We can be as busy and in full motion at home as the times when we go shopping, meet up with friends, and rush around with many errands to do, or we can decide to take some time to be really still, silent and just BE.  Maybe this pandemic is asking us to do just that.

A lot of us are meditators with a regular practice, and sometimes our minds quiet down to a “stillness,” and lots of time they just don’t. I am finding it interesting that I have been meditating less the past four months, caught up in the challenges surrounding me here.  Last week I had the opportunity to join a local Buddhist book group via Zoom that began with a half hour of meditation, and I was amazed at the impact of just that half hour of sitting quietly. 

It has encouraged me to get back to a more regular practice of meditation, and it has also triggered my interest in wanting to choreograph a dance study exploring how to move (not even particularly fast) and then find an easy position to hold and remain there for a while until something either internally or externally calls one to move again.  And then repeat the process until you find another position that calls you to be still. What does it require to hold the position? Do we tense?  Do we relax into it?  Are we aware of our surroundings or do they melt away?  When we begin to move again what kind of movement do we want to do?  Rarely do I long to have a group of dancers to work with, but creating a piece where we explore the beauty of slowly moving in and out of stillness is calling me.

I wondered if such a piece already existed and began a Google search.  I found lots of writers using dance and stillness together as a metaphor for what they wanted to write about.  I also found an interesting article in Dance Spirit magazine about how dancers have handled holding a pose on stage. https://www.dancespirit.com/how-to-make-the-most-of-stillness-onstage-2502557437.html But so far no link to a dance that explored going in and out of stillness as the theme of the dance and that is what I would love to do right now.  So since I have no dancers to work with other than[fix]myself, and I don’t see this as a solo and my range of movement is very limited, I am thinking I can again turn to art and see what I come up with.

Probably why I am so attracted to this theme is the strong need I am feeling in my own life for just being quiet.  In the book that the local Buddhist book group is reading, “Heart of the Buddha’s Teaching” by Thich Nhat Hanh,  one chapter really stood out for me.  It is Chapter 6,  “Stopping, Calming, Resting, Healing.”  I love the end, which says:

Our body and mind have the capacity to heal themselves if we allow them to rest.

Stopping, calming and resting are preconditions for healing.  If we cannot stop, the course of our destruction will just continue. The world needs healing. Individuals, communities, and nations need healing.

When I turned to painting, what I ended up with was a watercolor sketch that might be useful to begin creating a trio.  And then later in the day, while enjoying watching a hummingbird come to our feeder, I noticed that even it found time to just rest, and I was able to catch this silhouette of the bird resting calming for quite a while before fluttering back to the feeder.

The hummingbird resting between trips to the feeder.

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