Celebrating Light and Darkness

I am writing this on December 21, the winter solstice, in Atenas, Costa Rica.  When I lived in the United States this was the darkest point in the year and also the point where each day began to get brighter until June 21.  Living in Costa Rica the shift is very small.   For example, there is just about a half-hour difference in sunrise and half-hour difference in sunset over the full year.  So the range is about an hour difference maximum for the year, compared with nearly a five-hour difference in Santa Fe, the last place I lived. I am not a morning person.  For as long as I can remember I have loved to stay up late, often getting a burst of creative thinking or loving to watch a movie and just relax, sometimes going to bed around 2 AM.  Now that doesn’t work so well here, as the mornings are so beautiful.  Murray loved the mornings and often got up shortly after sunrise while I continued to sleep.  Perhaps I will experiment a bit more, seeing if I can go to bed earlier and get up earlier to enjoy the morning –  maybe seeing if I can turn my internal clock around and be creative first thing in the day. 

One of my favorite activities that I did in dance workshops, for participants ranging from young children to adults, was to explore ideas related to light and darkness.  Often we used a line from Genesis to get things going: “And G-d separated the light from the darkness.” (Genesis 1:4) There are so many easy and wonderful ways to quickly motivate movement with this line of text, and activities for this line as well as other suggestions can be found in the book I co-authored with Rabbi Susan Freeman called Torah in Motion: Creating Dance Midrash which I am pleased to say is still available on Amazon.com. (Link to book.)

For today’s blog I want to focus on how I relate to light and darkness at the present time!!  First of all I find things to celebrate about light and darkness in nature and in my art.  I also find a negative side. When the light is too bright I find it very uncomfortable.  Darkness can be scary at night, especially with strange noises.  On the other hand darkness can be very comforting.  A dark night allows us to see the stars more vividly and there is a wonderful joy in that.  The few times I have been up to see the sun rise there is something very welcoming and satisfying in that.

When I first studied art at the Art Students League in NYC I was required to do charcoal studies of gradation from very dark to very light and then look carefully at the model and start with the darkest shadow first.  I still use this concept when painting.  I am beginning to explore watercolor and am learning to decide where the lightest point might be and to leave the paper paint-free with the white showing through.  This came in very handy when making some holiday greeting cards where the white became a very important part of the design as illustrated in the photo of this holiday card.  

Greeting card I created this December
A favorite painting I created in 2009, in which I particularly like how I used
light and darkness.  I am pleased to share that this painting sold in Santa Fe back in 2011 and continues to be one of my favorite paintings mainly because of the contrasts in it

I close wishing you a very happy holiday season and hoping this coming year will be a healthy and creative one for us all as we explore our new normal. For me, I might focus on enjoying more of the daylight here in Costa Rica, maybe welcoming the sunrise, finding opportunities to be creative in the morning and learning to go to bed earlier!!  And then again my body and mind may just not want to change, no matter how good it sounds.

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In the Month of Kislev

This time of the year holiday dance programs are the norm, with The Nutcracker dominating the scene, from local civic ballets to New York City Ballet’s outstanding production.  For a long time I wanted to choreograph a holiday piece.  The story of Chanukah I always found problematic so I knew I had to find something different than a retelling of the original story.  I was really excited when I found a delightful children’s book from the oral tradition by Nina Jaffe, an award-winning author, folklorist and storyteller on the faculty of the Graduate School at Bank Street College of Education. 

This review in Kirkus shares the charming story:

Mendel the peddler and his hard-working wife are so poor they can’t buy a single potato for Hanukkah but, miraculously, their daughters fall asleep contented each night after smelling the delicious aroma of latkes emanating from the home of Feivel the merchant. Feivel is outraged: they must pay for “taking the smell of my food right out from under my nose!” The wise rabbi decrees an appropriate fine: putting the village’s Hanukkah gelt in a bag, he shakes it—“We have paid for the smell…with the sound.” Feivel reforms; the two families reconcile.

https://www.kirkusreviews.com/book-reviews/nina-jaffe/in-the-month-of-kislev/K

I found this a perfect story to set to movement and eagerly contacted the author to ask permission.  She was thrilled and immediately put me in touch with her contact person at the book’s publisher who was easy to work with, and we quickly came to an agreement allowing Avodah to create a dance piece based on the children’s book.

Live music was perfect for this piece. A trio of three musicians was just right —  percussionist (Newman Taylor Baker),  clarinetist and vocalist.  In addition to the four company members (each of whom played numerous characters), I added several children.  One of them was the daughter of Lynn Elliot, a former Avodah dancer.  

While the piece didn’t have many seasons of performances, the ones it did have were very satisfying, and I am glad to share the following pictures. 

From l. to r. Carla Armstrong and Beth Millstein creating their own percussion dance by playing with pots (Photo by Tom Brazil)
From l. to r. Kezia and Beth as the two children enjoying the smell of the latkes beneath Feivel’s window (Photo by Tom Brazil)
Elizabeth (on the right) as the Mom taking care of her children (l. to r. Beth and Kezia) (Photo by Tom Brazil)

 
Kezia, as shaking the coins for Feivel (Elizabeth) to hear as the townschildren react and mimic.  
(Photo by Tom Brazil)

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Lovesongs and Lullabies

Over two months ago I had begun writing about the Sephardic program we developed and toured with Rabbi Ray Scheindlin. Then came the intensity of caretaking and losing my longtime  partner, and when I did write again it was turning my attention to the immediate.  Now, although still very much in a stage of not knowing what is normal or routine, I find myself glad to return to remembering and reflecting on the last of the three works that were part of the Sephardic program.  This piece was called Lovesongs and Lullabies.  

I have always felt so honored and blessed to have wonderful dancers to work with, and Lovesongs and Lullabies was a set of four songs in which each dancer could be featured in one song and then all the dancers could join together in the last one. The three featured dancers, Elizabeth McPherson, Beth Millstein Wish and Kezia Gleckman Hayman all continue to be special friends who I am so glad are still very much a part of my life.  

The motivation for this piece came from finding a wonderful set of Sephardic Love Songs and Lullabies.  Wikipedia has a helpful description of Sephardic music.  Here is the beginning paragraph and then an excerpt from a later one.  If you would like to read the whole section along with links to a lot of Sephardic artists, click here

Sephardic music has its roots in the musical traditions of the Jewish communities in medieval Spain and medieval Portugal. Since then, it has picked up influences from MoroccoTurkeyGreeceBulgaria, and the other places that Spanish and Portuguese Jews settled after their expulsion from Spain in 1492 and from Portugal in 1496. Lyrics were preserved by communities formed by the Jews expelled from the Iberian Peninsula. These Sephardic communities share many of the same lyrics and poems, but the melodies vary considerably. 

The language of these folk songs was Judaeo-Spanish or Ladino, a mix of different Old Spanish dialects and Hebrew. Much like Yiddish in Eastern Europe, Judaeo- Spanish was spoken by Jews in Spain and Portugal in addition to the languages
of public life, which at the time were Arabic and Spanish.

I really loved the four songs I found. I wish I could remember the artist singing them but I can’t,  and while I found some of the songs (particularly Nani Nani) on YouTube they were by different artists.  They all had feelings of longing, sadness and softness to them.  The opening piece featured Elizabeth McPherson,  remembering and longing for an absent lover.  Kezia and Beth joined her for a lovely trio in parts of the piece.  The second piece is to the well known lullaby Nani Naniin which the Mom is singing her sadness to her child.  Beth Millstein is the Mom lulling her imaginary baby.  Another dancer is kneeling, holding a piece of fabric as if it were a baby. As the piece progresses, Beth takes the fabric from the  kneeling dancer and uses it sometimes as the baby and sometimes as a way to vent her frustration. By the end of this section her movement has become intense and the image of the baby is lost, replaced by the pain of wanting her husband to return.

Continuing in this theme of longing for a lover (or a home/land/life) no longer present, Kezia’s piece opens with a long diagonal cross of deep lunges with arms to her side.  Gradually arms are added to the traveling lunges as she faces in different directions as if reaching for the memory she aches for,  and she is joined by Beth and Elizabeth.  Contractions to the floor are added to this section which continues with variations of the longing lunges.

The transition into the last section has Kezia picking up the fabric which had been used in the second section and putting it as a shawl around Beth. Beth portrays a bride entering the mikvah. A mikvah is a bath used for the purpose of ritual immersion in Judaism, including sometimes by a bride before her wedding.  The other dancers join Beth, preparing her and blessing her as she enters the imaginary mikvah.  Walking into that imaginary water she slowly immerses herself and then stands up with a tenderness and strength.  

Luckily we have a video of one of the performances, which helped to refresh my mind.  I was surprised by my reaction as I watched, mainly that the dramatic longings the dancers portrayed came through so clearly even on my small laptop.  And once again I am reminded of how beautifully Kezia, Beth and Elizabeth danced both individually and together, contributing to the company growth.  What a joy it is to still be in touch with them nearly thirty years later. 

Luckily we have several very lovely pictures from the piece and I conclude today’s writing by sharing them. 

From l. to r. Beth Millstein and Kezia Gleckman Hayman  (Photo by Tom Brazil)
Beth Millstein as the bride in the final section with Elizabeth and Kezia. (Photo by Tom Brazil

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