JoAnne Tucker shares her experiences in dance from directly a modern dance company to leading movement activities for women in prison and domestic violence survivors.
My attention was caught by the title of a talk presented by HUC (Hebrew Union College) Connect in collaboration with the journal Prooftext: “Dance as a Tool of Pleasure and Humiliation in I.J. Singer’s Book The Brothers Ashkenazi. It was a webinar on Zoom, so I registered to attend and am glad I did. The presentation by Sonia Gollance triggered my intellectual side to learn more about how dance was used in this family epic novel that takes place mainly in the city of Lodz, Poland between 1870 and 1920.
Sonia Gollance, a Lecturer in Yiddish in the Department of Hebrew and Jewish Studies at University College London, is a scholar of Yiddish Studies and German-Jewish literature whose work focuses on dance, theatre and gender. In her article in Prooftext she explores how dance is a main motif in The Brothers Ashkenazi, advancing the plot, character development and social commentary. In the very well researched article, she uses the term “literary dance scenes,” pointing out that the term mainly has developed in the context of British literature and the novels of Jane Austen. Her scholarly look at I. B. Singer’s book shows how literary dance scenes clearly depict the complexities of life in Lodz and the differences between the two brothers.
When I heard the talk via HUC Connect, I thought I would be focusing this blog on how dance was used for humiliation in Singer’s book and other related books or movies. While I will include some of that here, after reading the article in Prooftexts, I am equally fascinated with Gollance’s analysis of the dance motif and how it impacts the whole book’s development.
Dance is used masterfully to show the differences between the main character Max and his twin brother Yakub. Gollance points out that not only are the characters being developed by use of dance scenes, but we are being given insights into the different social groups and their assimilation into the main culture. Gollance looks at how each character functions in dance situations.
Early in the book we learn that there are differences between each twin’s relationship with his body. Max, the older twin, is thin and quiet. He doesn’t like to go outside and play with the other children. Yakub is the opposite; he is robust and thoroughly enjoys play. Singer then uses dance to tell us more about the characters. Max only dances when he is forced to. This happens only twice. The first time is at his arranged wedding, when his father tells him to join the Hasidic dancers at his celebration. His father has arranged for them to come, even though that is not what the bride’s family wanted. One hundred Hasidic men basically take over the dancing at the wedding, and Max does join them. The second time Max dances is toward the end of the book. Max has been rescued from a Russian prison by his brother Yakub, and at the border the antisemitic Polish soldiers command him to dance. This kind of dance is referred to as a Mayufes. He does so to prevent himself from being physically attacked by them. He dances and moves as fast as he can until he collapses on the ground. His life is saved.
In contrast we learn that Yakub dances for his own enjoyment and pleasure with his dancing partners. He enjoys moving and engages in the more modern pair dancing. However, he will not be forced to dance. When the Polish soldiers tell him to dance, he refuses and instead strikes the lieutenant, who then empties his pistol into Yakub’s body, killing him.
Singer has used dance to tell us more about each of his characters and also about the social order of that time. In particular, the wedding dance scenes illustrate this. The bride’s family wants the dance that is taking place in the women’s section where men and women are dancing together. In contrast, the groom’s father stops that interaction, with his 100 Hasidic men taking over the dancing. This tells us a lot about cultural differences and challenges of the time for the Jewish community.
The Mayufes scene in The Brothers Ashkenazi is very poignant because it ends with a death. In the movie The Piano there is also a scene where Jews are made to dance, showing a similar form of humiliation and mockery of Jews.
Although not dancing a Mayufes, Edith Eger in her book The Choice: Embrace the Possible,and in various interviews, talks about how she danced for Dr. Mengel. The following is from an interview in 2015 for CNN. (https://www.cnn.com/2015/01/25/world/auschwitz-dancing-mengele/index.html)
“Dr. Mengele came to the barracks and wanted to be entertained,” Eger says.
Fellow inmates “volunteered” Eger to perform for the man who had ordered her parents’ death.
She asked her captors to play the Blue Danube Waltz as she danced for one of the worst war criminals of the Holocaust.
“I was so scared,” Eger says.
“I closed my eyes, and I pretended that the music was Tchaikovsky, and I was dancing ‘Romeo and Juliet’ in the Budapest opera house.”
The German doctor rewarded the Jewish girl with an extra ration of bread, which she later shared with the girls in her prison quarters.
Eger says months later, those same girls rescued her when she nearly collapsed from disease and starvation during a forced death march through Austria.
To learn more about Edith Eva Eger, please check out my blog on July 12, 2019, where I write about her, her book and my reaction to it.
To conclude, I am very grateful to have heard the webinar presented by Sonia Gollance, as she made me aware of how dance can be used in literature to further character development and convey social order of the time. Her article in Prooftexts is available online; here is a link to it. The link works for me and I was able to read the full article. https://www.proquest.com/openview/e19eac68f651b3a1595b5e5584ad3bf9/1.pdf?pq-origsite=gscholar&cbl=47712
In the last blog , I reviewed this informative book. In this blog, I will share thoughts, insights and new awareness that I gained from reading the book. In May of 2004, I moved from New York City, leaving my role as Artistic Director and choreographer of The Avodah Dance Ensemble, a small modern dance company that I founded in 1974. I often went back to NYC, at first twice a year, enjoying catching up on some dance, especially with dance companies I already knew. Luckily, I spent the summers through 2009 in Steamboat Springs, Colorado, where Perry-Mansfield Performing Arts Camp is located. Linda Kent, then Director of the dance program, brought many up-and-coming modern dance artists to Camp and I thoroughly enjoyed seeing performances and sometimes watching classes and rehearsals. With COVID and the move to Costa Rica, I have only made one trip back to NYC, and that was in June 2022. Of course, over the years I followed dance by reading articles and reviews in various online newspapers such as The New York Times, paying attention to Instagram, Facebook posts, Dance Magazine and other online sources. This is not the same as being intimately involved in dance on a day-to-day basis, as I was before. In writing this, I am amazed that it has now been just over 19 years since I made a major life change. Reading Milestones in Dance in the USA caught me up to date in some dance trends I was not aware of and reminded me of dance experiences I hold dear in my memory.
Before getting into specifics of the book, I also want to point out that reading the book made me aware of how limited I was in exploring the full range of dance happening around me in NYC. I stayed pretty focused on mainstream modern dance while occasionally attending a ballet performance or the latest Broadway musical. Milestones in Dance in the USA let me know about dancers, companies and trends that I had had only limited knowledge about, although they had been happening around me. There were also areas in the book where I simply had no knowledge at all about what happened in that genre of dance.
I wonder if others have experienced being passionately involved in a career and realizing (either at the time or later) how focused their attention has been on their particular niche and how unaware they have been of trends going on around them. Having retired 19 years ago, I wanted to catch up on “new” happenings. It is good to read a book like this and fill in some of those spaces.
I begin by sharing some information I got from the very first of the 10 chapters, “Native American Dance and Engaged Resistance.” The chapter was written by Robin Prichard, who begins with a dedication honoring “my ancestors, the Tsalagihi Ayeli, also known as the Cherokee . . . and the original inhabitants and stewards of the land on which I wrote this article.” She is a choreographer and Fulbright Fellow who undertook a cross-cultural choreography project between Australian Aboriginal and contemporary Dance and has taught at several colleges in the United States and Australia.
The article opens with information she will expand on:
Native American dances are the oldest continuing dance traditions of the North American continent, containing unparalleled diversity in content, meaning and practices. . . . The story of Native American dance tells a distinctly American story of Indigenous lifeways, followed by slavery, genocide, and forced assimilation, as well as resistance and renewal.
She points out how dance held a venerated place in North American cultures as a carrier and creator of knowledge and lifeways during the 15,000 years before European ships “ran aground on the continent.”
The fact that Native Americans use dance to resist assimilation and continue their culture is demonstrated by the concern of the federal government and the hundreds of official restrictions and bans on dance that “the federal government produced in the decades between 1880 and 1930.”
She goes in depth into one dance in particular, The Ghost Dance, describing how “it was meant to bring an end to White colonial rule and restore Native Americans, who would be joined by their ancestors to live peacefully on earth.”
Dance was not just a leisure activity; rather it served as a way “to stay Native American, to continue essential lifeways, and to survive into the 20th century.” In contrast she shared how Wild West Show (a category of shows) used “Indians” doing dances and horseback riding to appear as symbols of the past.
The end of this detailed and well-written chapter focuses on Powwow Dances which developed into “the largest expression of Native American culture with hundreds each year across the USA and Canada.” She points out that “Powwow dance and music have been present at every major Native American civil rights protest of the 20th century.” Specific dances that are part of the Powwow are described, such as: The Round Dance, “a social dance of friendship in which every person is encouraged to join,” and The Jingle Dress dances, which have become “visible manifestations of Indigenous healing in both Native America and Black Lives Matter protests.”
She summarizes:
Resilient and adaptable, dance reinforces social, cultural, psychological, economic, and political ideals. Intertribal dance celebrates widely shared Indigenous Institutions and values while also continuing tribal-specific dance cultures.
She ends with a poem by Alcatraz poet Cheryl Ann Payne:
The layers and layers of concrete could not
stop the flowing of spirit between the Land
and her People
We danced the Spirit back into the Land
Hannah Kosstrin’s chapter on “Dancing for Social Change in the 20th and 21st Centuries” stood out for me because as a choreographer I shared this desire for my work. She begins:
When people dance with the goal of making the world a better place, they are dancing for social change. Social action drove many choreographers in the United States of American during the 20th and 21st centuries. Occurring on the concert stage and in community settings, dance for social change includes: work that engages social problems to change people’s minds or inspire them to enact change; work that offers viewpoints other than culturally dominant ones; and community-based dance efforts for empowerment and liberation.
She goes on to give specific examples:
The workers dance movement (1920-1940’s) for workers’ rights, egalitarianism and anti-racism. She gives many examples including discussing the work of Anna Sokolow, Sophie Maslow, Jane Dudley, Charles Weidman, Pearl Primus, and Katherine Dunham.
Choreographing Postwar Change to “make audience members feel like they are witnesses to onstage atrocities that inspire them to take action.” Anna Sokolow’s piece Rooms is cited for how it depicts feelings of isolation and alienation.” Donald McKayle’s Rainbow ‘Round My Shoulder shows the plight of Black men on a prison chain gang. Alvin Ailey’s Revelations is about representation and opportunity. Some of Jose Limon’s works foreshadowed the Chicano Movement and mentored Native American students. Eiko and Koma in 1991 “embedded dances within specific sites in calls for environmental justice.” Anna Halprin and Liz Lerman used “dance practices to bring communities together mobilizing the Jewish concept of ‘tikkun olam,’ healing the world.”
Mobilizing Sexualities began in the 1980’s when choreographers began making autobiographical dances. “Many mobilized their gender and sexuality identities for social change through representation and collective action.” Bill T. Jones and his “first life and artistic partner Arnie Zane” were leaders in this movement. Arthur Aviles, “a choreographer of Puerto Rican heritage . . . puts dance at the center of queer social justice community building.” Jennifer Monson and Elizabeth Streb, Lesbian choreographers, displayed queerness through how they used movement rather than themes.
Storytelling for Justice beginning in the 1990’s and continuing to 2020’s made pieces about historical injustices using their communities’ stories for social action. Jawole Willa Jo Zollar’s Urban Bush Women is an example of using Black Women to make pieces important to Black Women. H.T. Chen, in the NY area, and Minh Tran in Portland, challenged anti-Asian sentiment in their work. There are mixed-ability dance companies using dances with multiple physicalities that provide opportunities for dancers whose bodies do not fit the norm of what is thought of as the dancing body. Three Black American choreographers, Kyle Abraham, Camille A. Brown and Jennifer Harge, create works related to the Black Experience in the 2010’s to 2020’s. Discussion of the works of two current Indigenous choreographers, Rulan Tangen and Patrick Makuakane, illustrate storytelling for sovereignty and environmental justice. Jody Sperling, who danced on sea ice in the Arctic in 2014, is included, as well as Mexicanx-American artist Fabiola Ochoa Torralba’s work calling for climate recognition and rights of people on society’s margin.
This is an intense chapter filled with lots of information. It resonated with me because I was familiar with so many of the choreographers and pieces that are mentioned, and it was interesting to see them put in this context. I, too, found that a lot of my interest in choreographing pieces had an underlying call for social change.
The last chapter I want to share is by Joanna Dee Das: “Challenging the Distinction between Art and Entertainment: Dance in Musical Theater.” Musical theater holds a passionate place in my heart, as I have been involved in both directing and choreographing community productions and am an enthusiastic Broadway attendee. I was curious what new things I would learn from Dee Das.
In her introduction she poses some interesting questions and states the purpose of the chapter:
If George Balanchine can create “Slaughter on Tenth Avenue” and have it called entertainment when a part of the musical On Your Toes (1936) and art when performed by members of the New York City Ballet in 1968, then we must question the root of this art/entertainment distinction. Musical theater choreographers operate under a different set of constraints than those working in concert dance, but those constraints lead to creative work that is no less worthy. This chapter will demonstrate how race, gender, and ideas of artistic independence, originality and authenticity shape how dance is classified.
She shares how dance in early musical theater had two influences, European ballet extravaganzas that began in the US in the 1860’s and the Africanist aesthetic of Black American social and theatrical dance. The first major transformation of Broadway dance was in 1921 in the musical Shuffle Along where dance became central to the “energy and motion of a Broadway show.” There was such a reaction to this all-Black cast and all-Black creative team that The Ziegfeld Follies of 1922 had a number called “It’s Getting Dark on Old Broadway.”
Interestingly, Martha Graham in 1930 referred to existing theatrical dance as a “handmaiden of music, of drama, even of costumes and stage sets and equally obscene in their lack of artistic integrity.” Dee Das points out how this led to an inauguration of concert dance as separate from Broadway entertainment. It was not only the dancers that expressed this division, but also critics of the period such as John Martin, Edwin Denby and Clement Greenberg.
That separation didn’t mean that ballet choreographers or concert dancers didn’t become involved in Broadway productions. George Balanchine is one example; Katherine Dunham is another who “blurred the Broadway/concert dance, entertainment/art lines.”
In the 1940’s there were many examples of crossover between modern dance and Broadway. Helen Tamiris choreographed Up in Central Park and Hanya Holm did Kiss Me Kate. At the same time there was also a movement to make “ordinary jazz routine” have power. As choreographer Robert Alton says, “I have exactly six minutes to raise the customer out of his seat. If I cannot do it, I am no good.”
Of course, most of us are familiar with how Agnes de Mille influenced Broadway dance in Oklahoma! and Dee Das reminds us that “de Mille’s choreography in Oklahoma! furthered the plot and developed characters’ emotional arcs.” Following de Mille, Dee Das points out that Jerome Robbins became the “standard-bearer for musical theater choreography” and he enjoyed success on both Broadway and in the ballet world. He is known for musicals such as Peter Pan, West Side Story and Fiddler on the Roof, and for being both the director and the choreographer of shows.
In the 1970’s and 80’s Michael Bennet, Gower Champion and Bob Fosse were important figures in Broadway choreography. Fosse followed Jerome Robbins’ pattern of serving as both director and choreographer and developed his own style, which is pointed out as a “cynical depiction of female sexuality.” An example is given in “Big Spender” from Sweet Charity where the women “thrust their pelvises jerkily and aggressively.”
The next trend wasn’t until the 1990’s when George C. Wolfe as director, and dancers Gregory Hines and Savion Glover brought a trio of musicals that showed an “African aesthetic of tap dance and its capacity to carry history and memory.” For example, in Bringin ‘Da Noise, Bring in ‘Da Funk, “the story of the survival of “the beat,” as expressed through tap dance, became the metaphor for the Black experience in the United States . . . .”
The Avodah Dance Ensemble worked with Children Living in Temporary Housing. One year we arranged for the group to attend a performance of Bring in ‘Da Noise, Bring in ‘Da Funk. In the front row of this photo (dark shirt, light pants) is Elizabeth McPherson, editor of Milestones in Dance in the USA. I took the picture.
The chapter goes on to discuss how choreographers and dancers continue to cross over between the different dance worlds. In the very successful Hamilton, premiered in 2015, Andy Blankenbuehler created a “parallel physical score,” where dance moved seamlessly throughout the musical. The style of movement is unique, fitting each of the scenes as “he combines various forms of hip-hop with musical theater’s ballet/tap/theatrical jazz . . . . ”
Dee Das concludes the chapter by pointing out that the question needs to shift to “how musical theater dance’s kinesthetic contributions balance with other aural and visual media to communicate with audience members and create pleasure.”
While certainly all the chapters deserve mention and held my interest, these three had particular appeal. All the chapters in this book are well researched, and I have only given you a taste of the scholarship each author brings to their topic. This book is an outstanding resource not only for dance history courses but for those individuals who want to explore dance in the United States from a variety of perspectives.
Whenever The Avodah Dance Ensemble held a performance in New York City, we sent out a press release to the dance critics. We were always hopeful that one of the three critics from The New York Times – Anna Kisselgoff, Jennifer Dunning, or Jack Anderson – would cover our event. While we were not always covered, we often were, several times by Jennifer Dunning and once by Jack Anderson.
In early January I received an email inviting me to a memorial service for Jack Anderson. He had died in October at the age of 88. I am not sure what list I was on that resulted in my receiving the invitation, but I was fascinated by some of the information in the notice, particularly that he was a poet besides being a dance historian and critic. On January 27th at 4 in the afternoon I streamed the memorial held at St. Peter’s Church, Lexington Avenue, New York City. His poetry was read by different people throughout the service. Among the speakers was Anna Kisselgoff, who in a feisty voice shared what he didn’t like and that he had often been asked to go on the staff of The New York Times but preferred to freelance. Three dance pieces were woven into the service: a solo from Antony Tudor’s Dark Elegies performed by a soloist from the New York Dance Theatre; a piece by Baroque Dance; and a lyrical trio of liturgical dances by Dance @ Saint Peter’s.
After the memorial I wanted to learn more about Jack Anderson, so I turned to the obituary in The New York Times which opens with, “He brought an all-embracing enthusiasm to about 4,000 articles for The New York Times on modern dance, tap, ballet and practically every other genre.” His first article was written in 1978, and his last published piece was an obituary of Anna Halprin in 2021. Here’s the link to the New York Times obituary if you want to know more about Jack Anderson. https://www.nytimes.com/2023/10/22/arts/dance/jack-anderson-dead.html
Next, I found myself going through my digital files to find the review he had written about the Avodah Dance Ensemble. He reviewed a concert we gave at Hebrew Union College on May 31, 1997, which included pieces inspired by two poets: Primo Levi and Yehuda Amichai. Now that I know Anderson was a poet, I understand why he might have been assigned our concert to review. While it was a short review, it was a solid one, beginning with acknowledging the space we were performing in:
“The sanctuary of the Hebrew Union College, Jewish Institute of Religion, a high, wide hall with walls of light wood that help make it look radiant, is used for concerts as well as for religious services. It was a fine setting for Avodah.”
A few other passages I liked and was able to use in publicity:
“Ms. Tucker choreographed clear patterns that could be adapted to performance spaces of many kinds.”
“ ‘Shema’ effectively contrasted relentless pacing, representing concentration camp regimentation with outbursts, symbolizing the prisoners’ turbulent personal feelings.”
I was glad to get the coverage, although I wish he had commented on the dancers, as they gave an excellent performance.
In December of 2023 I had read a reference to the fact that there were no longer any full-time dance critics on the staff of major newspapers. In fact, in 2015 an article appeared in The Atlantic entitled “The Death of the American Dance Critic.” At that time there were two full-time critics: Alastair Macaulay at The New York Times and Sarah Kaufman at The Washington Post. Neither of them is now on staff at either paper; now all reviewing is being done by freelance writers.
As I continued to explore options for reading dance reviews, I came across a Facebook page named “Dance Critics Association.” It has 647 members with regular posts. There used to be an active Dance Critics Association that was founded in 1973, but the last time it showed any life was around 2007-2008. Perhaps the FB page is now their only outlet. The good news is that it is very active, filled with lots of daily posts.
When I was director of The Avodah Dance Ensemble, getting good press and publicity was important for us. To be able to have a good quote to use in a press release or on our website was important to build our audience and to get bookings. I am glad I could honor Jack Anderson by streaming his memorial and by writing this blog. I want to honor and express gratitude for all the dance critics and writers who continue to review performances and write about dance.
Screenshot of scrapbook page. Fun to see our review was directly under another review of the New York City Ballet by Jennifer Dunning. Much easier to read the review by clipping on this link:
Recently I was talking about the different teachers I had studied with as a young dancer between the ages of 15 and 21. I hadn’t thought of it before in quite these terms, but I am old enough to have had firsthand experience with most of the shapers of modern dance. These were amazing pioneers forging new traditions in dance from the 1920’s into the 1960’s and some beyond. Here is a list of these pioneers and a few sentences describing my experience with them, in the order I met them.
Ted Shawn (1891-1972) of Denishawn – He and Ruth St. Denis founded a company where a number of the pioneers got their first experience and opportunity to build long-term collaborations. I heard Ted Shawn speak at Jacob’s Pillow when he introduced the program that I went to see when I was a camper at a nearby camp. Jacob’s Pillow’s history goes back to 1933 when Shawn and his group of men did their first performance in a barn that still exists and is used for classes and performances today. Here’s a link to learn more about the founding of Jacob’s Pillow. The camp I attended was called Belgian Village and was located in Cummington, MA . I was there on a scholarship teaching dance to the younger campers. I can remember sitting in the Jacob’s Pillow theatre and being awed by both Ted Shawn’s inspiring words and an amazing performance that included modern dance, ballet and ethnic dance.
Martha Graham (1894 -1991) – I first met her at the age of 15 when she came to Pittsburgh for the premiere of her movie A Dancer’s World, which you can watch on YouTube. It is a wonderful introduction to her and her technique. Jeanne Beaman, my modern dance teacher in Pittsburgh, hosted a reception for Martha following a private showing of the film. I have a clear memory of being introduced to her and her encouraging me to come to NYC and take the Xmas course even though I was very young. I did go a year later, and from that time on, Graham technique was my favorite way to train. That was not the only time I had classes directly with her. She taught a week of classes at the six-week summer program at the American Dance Festival which I attended twice. There were also occasions when she taught at the New York studio. She, the technique she developed, and how she choreographed her pieces were a major influence on me!
Helen Tamiris (1902-1966) – I auditioned for her in 1958 at Perry-Mansfield Camp and was accepted into a piece she choreographed during the three weeks she was there. Martha Clarke and I were the only two younger-than-college-age dancers who were part of her piece Dance for Walt Whitman. (I’ve written before about Tamiris and Dance for Walt Whitman; here is a link to that blog. The fact that Tamiris recognized my abilities reaffirmed my commitment to be a dancer. She also influenced significantly my understanding of choreographic elements. Currently Elizabeth McPherson, a member of Avodah Dance Ensemble during seven of the years I directed the company, is working on a book about Tamiris. When Elizabeth spent three weeks at the artist residency program I hold at my home, we spent many hours talking about Tamiris, and it was great fun for me to learn new things about her life. I was so glad that we were able to stage some of Tamiris’s choreography when Elizabeth set Tamiris’s piece Negro Spirituals for the Avodah Dance Ensemble.
Charles Weidman (1901-1975) – I was part of a class he taught in kinetic pantomime at the American Dance Festival at Connecticut College in 1960. He staged a demonstration that we performed in a Festival program. It was during one of his rehearsals that Martha Hill, the chairman of the dance department of Juilliard, saw me rehearsing and remembered me from an audition I had taken for Juilliard about six weeks before. She found me after class and asked me to reaudition. I hadn’t made that first audition, but she felt I now would get into the school.
Photo from Connecticut College, 1960, of the Charles Weidman piece I was in. I am the dancer on the left. I do not know who the other two dancers are.
Martha Hill (1900- 1995) – I mentioned in the last paragraph that she encouraged me to reaudition for Juilliard, which I did about a year later. While I didn’t have a lot of direct contact with her while I was at Juilliard, the program that she developed at Juilliard and my two years as a student there shaped me as an artist. The tools and ability to focus on my “art” carried over from dance to painting and filmmaking. I have tremendous respect for the role she played in the development of dance education in colleges. Elizabeth McPherson has written an excellent book about her, and here is a link to a blog I wrote about the book.
Louis Horst (1884 – 1964) – I took my first of three composition classes from him in the summer of 1961, at Connecticut College. In Pre-Classic Dance Forms, he encouraged me to continue with him, even though I wasn’t yet a student at Juilliard. I did so (as a special student), continuing to take his second-year course, Modern Forms. By mid-semester I had become a full-time student at Juilliard. The following year I took his third and final formal course, Group Forms. I loved his classes. His demanding insistence that we follow the clear form of different musical dances instilled a discipline and focus on how I used movement in dance pieces. His second-year course began a long appreciation of art and how much we can learn from different periods of art history. A good example of how this later influenced me can be found in how I used a painting as a basis for I Never Saw Another Butterfly. Here’s a link to a blog where I go into detail about this. Last fall, Nancy Bannon was here on an artist residency working on a play about Louis Horst and Martha Graham, and I learned lots of interesting things about Louis’s life. She shared with me a wonderful book by Janet Soares about Louis that I look forward to reviewing in an upcoming blog.
There are two pioneers from the period that I didn’t get to study with directly although I did study with their disciples.
Doris Humphrey (1895 -1958) – Her name is associated with Charles Weidman (they formed together The Humphrey-Weidman Company) and with Jose Limon (she mentored him when he was her student, and when she retired from her own company, she became Artistic Director of his Limon Company). I took classes in Limon technique at Juilliard and sometimes had a class directly from Limon. Although I wasn’t fond of the technique, I loved Limon’s choreography as well as pieces that I saw of Humphrey’s. In particular, Humphrey’s Water Study (1928), The Shakers (1931), and Passacaglia (to Bach’s Music) are among my favorites. Passacaglia was revived at Juilliard during the time I was there. I am so glad that I got to see Jose dance in The Moor’s Pavane along with Betty Jones, Lucas Hoving and Pauline Koner. Some of his other pieces that have created a lasting memory are There Is a Time and Missa Brevis.
While I did not study directly with Humphrey, her philosophy and writing did have an influence on me, such as her movement exercises of fall and recovery. “She called this the arc between two deaths. At one extreme an individual surrenders to the nature of gravity; at the other, one attempts to achieve balance.” (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Doris_Humphrey). Her book The Art of Making Dance (1958), which I read several years after it was published, was also helpful to me, and it was a regular reference book in my library. I keep in mind to this very day her statement that the last seconds of a piece of choreography are most important. For me, that reminder carries over to all art forms.
Hanya Holm (1893 – 1999) One of the dancers that she strongly influenced, Don Redlich, choreographed a piece that I was in while a teenager in Pittsburgh. It was interesting working with him, but I don’t remember anything unique about the experience that I can trace back to Holm. I do remember loving her choreography in My Fair Lady which I saw shortly after it opened with Julie Andrews and Rex Harrison in 1956.
Writing this blog has felt like a journey down memory lane. I am grateful to have experienced firsthand so many of the modern dance pioneers. I welcome readers who may have worked with some of them to share their experiences in the comment section.
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