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.
Mark has served as Cantor of Congregation B’nai B’rith in Santa Barbara, CA since 1991. He performs regularly in the Southern California area and beyond in both his own solo program and as soloist with major music groups. He has served on local boards and is music director of the Interfaith Thanksgiving Service and a past honoree of the ADL”s “Distinguished Community Service.” He lives in Santa Barbara with his wife Shari, and they have two sons.
If the pictures didn’t exist, I’m not sure I’d believe it. See Blog #3 for the genesis of my involvement in “Let My People Go.” Through high school and college in SoCal (U.C. San Diego), I had plenty of stage experience and even learned a few tap steps along the way. But when JoAnne invited me, a cantor-in-training, to collaborate on this project, I felt like I was thrown in the “deep end.” Not only was this a professional modern dance company (we did get paid!), but the scope of this project was so foreign and beyond my comfort zone that I couldn’t imagine saying “yes.”
Here’s what I loved…
JoAnne was so darned positive and encouraging and valuing of any and all ideas. She laughed constantly with delight and defied every stereotype I had of New York choreographers.
Every company member was down-to-earth, friendly, nurturing, eager, and TALENTED.
I inherited Rabbi Rick Jacobs’ costume/pajamas. In the costume/pajamas. Photo by Tom Brazil.
Being able to rehearse in the Henry Street Settlement House had a tremendous impact on me. Its history as part of the story of Jewish immigration through New York City has a lot of power in my heart.
Rehearsing at Henry St. with Deborah Hanna and Loretta Abbott. Photo by Tom Brazil.
No one in my cantorial class was doing anything close to this. I constantly bragged “Yes…I’m a member of a professional NYC dance company.”
Collaborating with African-American dancers, a percussionist, and a choreographer was a tremendous growth experience for me.
The source material for the piece was profound.
The opportunity to travel and visit communities that I would otherwise never visit was priceless.
Louis Johnson didn’t seem to care that I didn’t expect to dance, and he laughed when I tried to resist.
Here’s what I didn’t enjoy…
Louis Johnson didn’t seem to care that I didn’t expect to dance, and he laughed when I tried to resist.
In Conclusion
Some audiences were captivated (I’m thinking Brooklyn), some snickered (I don’t remember that high school’s location). There were lovely receptions and interesting people wherever we went. While at K.A.M. Isaiah in Chicago, I was privileged to meet the great composer Max Janowski.
“Let My People Go” was an important piece. I’m gratified beyond measure that it survived and thrived after my departure with subsequent company members and cantors. I feel a strong bond with Avodah and others who were associated with “Let Me People Go.” These types of collaboration are needed more than ever now.
Note from JoAnne: Thank you so much Mark for doing our very first guest blog. And yes we especially need more of these collaborations NOW!! If you have been reading MostlyDance and want to do a guest blog please send me an email and have your voice heard!
Regina Ress is an award winning storyteller, actor, author, and educator who has performed and taught from Broadway to Brazil, in English and Spanish, in settings from grade schools to senior centers, prisons to Carnegie Hall, homeless shelters to The White House. She teaches applied storytelling at NYU and produces a long-running storytelling series at NYU’s Provincetown Playhouse. She is a founding Board member of Healing Voices-Personal Stories. www.reginaress.com
Following last week’s blog on creating Sabbath Woman, Regina sent me an email with this memory in response to its image of “congregants filling the aisles with joyful dancing,” and men going out to greet the “Sabbath Bride.” I asked her if she would share it as a guest blog. I am delighted she agreed. Regina and I have been dancing and collaborating together since we were six!
I went to Jerusalem in 1973 to visit my college friend Ian. I had no expectations, religious or otherwise, just the excitement and curiosity of seeing an old friend I hadn’t seen in seven years. I knew that when Ian had been released from the U.S. army three years before, he had walked from Germany to Jerusalem. Walking, we know, becomes sacred practice and perhaps even a form of dance when done with intension.
Ian picked me up at Lod Airport and drove me up to Jerusalem. He was living in a flat on the roof of an old apartment building near the Souk, the Market. We walked up several flights of concrete stairs, turning on the lights at each landing to find our way up the dark, winding passage. This was my first experience with electricity as a precious and expensive commodity. We came out on to the roof and there was a small structure built in the middle of it. Ian’s place! In the day time, the Middle Eastern Jewish women living in the building used the roof as a space to winnow and dry grains in large, flat baskets. I had entered a different world.
When we arrived, it was early evening. Ian said we had been invited to a party. As I had just emerged from a twelve hour, non-stop El Al flight from New York, I was exhausted. I said that he should go to the party. I needed to sleep.
Ian returned home about 1:00 AM and I awoke. My internal clock told me it was early evening and I was wide awake. In the years since college, our lives had taken many twists and turns; we had a lot of catching up to do. Around 3:00 AM, Ian asked, “Are you ready for an adventure?” Absolutely!
It was a Friday night, and the August full moon lit Jerusalem. My memory is of a shimmering, cream-colored city, quiet, with a big bright sky. I had no idea where we were going and didn’t ask. I knew nothing about Jerusalem, and had no preconceived notions, expectations, images. I asked no questions, but simply watched the play of the moonlight on the buildings.
We parked and began to walk. There was a wall and a gate and we entered. I realized we were in the Old City. I had never been in a walled city before. I felt a shift in the quality of the space, a shift, if you will, in the feeling of the stones themselves. The air, too, felt different, as if the molecules were packed, dense with emanations from the stones, filled with the history of the place.
We walked along narrow stone streets bordered by stone buildings. The moon sailed in the sky and we walked in silence. No traffic noise, no sirens, only the sound of shoe against stone. And no other people. Until, at some point in our journey through the labyrinth of the Old City, we began to be passed by men, men running along the narrow streets. They ran with expectation, not hurry, their long black coats, like capes, flapping after them as they ran. There was joy in their feet.
“Mazeh? What is this?” I asked. “Ah,” said my guide, “On Friday nights they run to be at the Wall for Shabbat. They are running to greet the Sabbath Queen.”
It was then that I understood that we were walking to the Western Wall. I hadn’t even thought about it being early Saturday morning, let alone understanding the significance of the pilgrimage we were making on that moonlit night. We were silent again. The closer we got to the Temple Mount, the closer it got to the dawn; the closer to dawn, the more men dressed in archaic black passed us, running to be at the Wall for the first moment of Sabbath light.
We arrived suddenly at an open space, a space lit by the huge, sinking, August moon. There were many people, many kinds of people, but all were there to be at the Wall as the sky changed from black and silver to pink, yellow, blue, to dawn. It was like a dream. It was not a dream come true, for I had never dreamed of Jerusalem. This was a dream I was experiencing wide awake.
I stood there as the moon slid behind the old buildings and the world of color returned. I breathed the air warmed by the old stone walls and watched the many pilgrims to this ancient, holy place. It was there and it was then that I began my personal pilgrimage to the ancient holy place hidden deep within my heart. It was the beginning of a shift in my relationship to the sacred, to the way I would move upon the planet and through my own life.
A few days later, Ian took me to meet his spiritual teacher, the resident monk in a Zen Center on the Mount of Olives. As we sipped green tea, Ian told his teacher that I didn’t understand the Zen practice of sitting meditation. And, he added, “Regina feels guilty about not wanting to sit with us. Tell her it’s OK.” The monk turned to me and, in a deep, penetrating voice said, “You don’t sit.You move.”
Not long after that trip to Jerusalem, I found my personal expression of a relationship to the sacred in ceremonial dance. Since then, in community and alone, I have danced in pine groves and cathedral crypts, on mountain slopes and Manhattan’s streets. And even my not so “sacred,”more celebratory dance is also, always, an expression of my relationship to a wider and deeper reality. And when I dance, wherever I dance, like those men running to greet the Sabbath Queen, there is joy in my feet.
Regina sadly leaving Israel. It is early morning and she is on the way to the airport.
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.
JoAnne: Today is International Women’s Day and I am pleased to welcome Guest Blogger Georgellen Burnett to Mostly Dance. I met Georgellen when she signed up to volunteer for Healing Voices – Personal Stories, the film company I founded to increase social awareness of domestic violence. A survivor/thriver of domestic violence she has been very active in publicizing Healing Voices and raising money in our local community of Santa Fe.
Georgellen Burnett is a native New Mexican and a women’s historian. She devotes her time to women’s history, women’s political advocacy, and domestic violence issues. You can reach Georgellen by email at: georgellen.burnett@comcast.net
Georgellen’s Blog
On March 1, 2019, Governor Michelle Lujan-Grisham and Mayor Alan Webber issued proclamations designating March as Women’s History Month in New Mexico and Santa Fe. President Donald J. Trump also issued a proclamation designating March as Women’s History Month in the United States.
Santa Fe NOW and the New Mexico League of Women Voters are collaborating on a celebration for 2020 of the 100thAnniversary of the Passage of the Nineteenth Amendment in 1920 in which women achieved the vote.
In 1977, when the women who would establish the National Women’s History Alliance began planning a women’s history week, March 8th, International Women’s Day, was chosen as the focal date.
The selection was based on wanting to ensure that the celebration of women’s history would include a multicultural perspective, an international connection between and among all women, and the recognition of women as significant in the paid workforce.
United States women’s history became the primary focus of the curriculum and resources developed. At that time, there were no school districts in the country teaching women’s history. The goal, although it most often seemed a dream, was to first impact the local schools, then the nation, and finally the world. It is a dream that is becoming a reality.
Women’s History Week, always the week that included March 8th, became National Women’s History Week in 1981 and in 1987 National Women’s History Week became National Women’s History Month. The expansion from local to national and from week to month was the result of a lobbying effort that included hundreds of individuals and dozens of women’s, educational, and historical organizations. It was an effort mobilized and spearheaded by the National Women’s History Alliance.
National Women’s History Month is now recognized throughout the world. Women from Germany, China, Saudi Arabia, Canada, Japan, Russia, the Ukraine, and diverse African nations have visited the National Women’s History Alliance’s office or attended their events. One result from this contact has been the establishment of a women’s history program and museum in the Ukraine. In 1989, The National Women’s History Alliance accepted an invitation from the government of Spain to address an international women’s conference on the importance of women’s history and the impact of National Women’s History Month. In 2001 a sistership with the Working Women’s Institute of Japan was established resulting in the National Women’s History’s posters and display sets being featured in the organizations first exhibit.
The National Women’s History Alliance’s websitereaches the global community. They receive emails from individuals throughout the world. Each year hundreds of National Women’s History Month posters are distributed to military bases and Department of Defense schools throughout the world for special programs and events that celebrate and recognize women’s accomplishments. It is the hope of the National Women’s History Alliance that the celebrations at these different venues will ignite a sense of celebration and recognition that honors women of all nations.
Last month, eleven of us gathered together on a Zoom call to remember choreographer Louis Johnson who had passed away on March 31. (April 10th obituary in NYTimes) We all had some kind of connection to Louis, and most of us had worked with him on “Let My People Go.” We covered a number of time zones and different countries from Italy to Costa Rica to the US (from NYC to CA). The next morning we received this beautiful email from Deborah Hanna. I asked her if I could share it as a guest blog.
Bio of our Guest Blogger:
Deborah Lynn Hanna grew up in Charleston, West Virginia as a sports lover – playing basketball, swimming and riding horses competitively. This love of movement transformed into modern dance, and she graduated with a BA in Humanities from Stetson University in Deland, Florida, earning “The Most Outstanding Humanities Student” Award in 1981 and 1982. Next step: New York City and the Martha Graham School of Contemporary Dance where she worked and studied for 5 years, achieving her 3rd year Trainee Program Diploma at the Advanced Level, while acting as Coordinator for the Martha Graham Ensemble and dancing with the Ensemble for 3 years in the annual revival pieces of “Primitive Mysteries,” “Steps in the Street” and “Celebration.” Primarily, Deborah grew as a performer with The Avodah Dance Ensemble from 1987-1992 in its 15-piece repertoire, dancing and giving workshops in all parts of the US. She then moved to Italy with her Italian husband and began teaching the Martha Graham Technique and choreographing, as well as teaching English as a Second Language. In 2013, the latter work took Deborah and her husband to Myanmar for 7 years, where she taught English and dance, and also performed in interesting, but unlikely venues. In July 2019 Deborah and her husband returned to their family property in Tarquinia, Italy and are in the midst of creating a holistic center for Cultural and the Healing Arts.
Guest Blog by Deborah Hanna
I woke up this morning (a few hours later actually, with our time difference here), remembering pieces of our conversations, your faces, my thoughts and reflections, and most importantly, a profound sense of love… love for the beauty and uniqueness of what was shared, along with such awe and respect for the amazing talent and achievements represented on that tiny screen – everyone in their homes, sort of a humbling and very human factor, that gives us an equal voice at the table as human beings, as we all walk through this unique period of history together…. with a glance backwards towards another era.
My first consideration, as we all expressed last night, was the unifying force of JoAnne, her creative vision for Avodah and the ever-changing landscape of her choreography (of which we all played integral roles in the creation of movement), the beauty of so many diverse collaborations, performance arenas, teaching workshops, cities, towns and even countries, and the continual unexpected, which made every performance and new work exciting. This is an amazing accomplishment, JoAnne – one that gave so much to so many of us as artists, not to mention the audiences and workshop participants. The other beautiful quality of Avodah was the bond of friendship and healthy spirit of collaboration that existed amongst us… a very rare quality in the NYC dance scene – at least coming from the Martha Graham Dance Company perspective. Last night, after we listened to Candice’s memory of getting lost in a piece of Avodah choreography and JoAnne being amused as to how she and the rest of us would figure our ways out of these tight spots, Kezia brought up a similar moment for me, with the Graham work Celebration.
Deborah Hanna in the studio in a Graham movement.
During one City Center performance of the first reconstruction of Celebration (464 jumps in 6 minutes), as I was beating out a 64-count phrase, I became lost in imagery that Martha herself had given to us during one of the last rehearsals. I simply departed on my next jump series 8 counts too soon – alone, instead of with another 5 dancers. I remember being out in the middle of that big City Center stage, feeling all of the responsibility that comes with representing Graham in that arena, and thinking to myself, “Okay, Deb, you’re here…. just keep jumping until the others arrive and keep the image of light pouring down, so no one can see in your eyes that you screwed up royally.” I was the only one moving on the stage at that moment in an intricately choreographed Graham piece, where every single second was carved to perfection. Just in that moment, a quite accomplished dance reviewer snapped my photo, which only made matters worse! Eight counts later, the other dancers arrived and we finished the piece successfully. The next day, the dance review and photo were sitting on my dressing room table, with all of the other Ensemble members gathered round. To my mind, I had successfully come out of an error and actually done really well. Naturally, Yuriko (the director of the Ensemble) didn’t agree! She stomped into the dressing room – her tiny but powerful stature steaming, venom flowing from her eyes. I felt this ancient Samurai power about to unfurl …. she was furious and said that if I ever did anything like that again, I was out of the Ensemble! There was no chance to explain, no excuses!
Only recently, after having lived in South East Asia for 7 years and having worked with many Japanese, getting to know them and their culture, I can now understand her reaction, but at the time, it was very foreign – especially for a West Virginia hillbilly like myself. Yuriko was deeply dedicated to the integrity and accuracy of Martha’s work, above all else…. and that was the atmosphere of the Graham World. Our rehearsals with Yuriko were very much akin to being in the military, I imagined… for all the greatness and perils that those worlds offer.
So, from there to Avodah…..After I’d finished my first season at City Center with the Martha Graham Ensemble in the reconstructions of Celebration and Primitive Mysteries, Yuriko was interested in having me come to rehearsals and integrate into the permanent Martha Graham Ensemble ( which I had helped cultivate into a full-time second company, having been the booking coordinator – a role I developed as a work-study student, in order to pay for my own classes). It was one of those monumental life crossroads for me. I had just gotten into Avodah simultaneously, during the Graham NY City Center season in 1987, and had to make a decision of which road to travel. I looked at the long line of extraordinary dancers fighting tooth and nail to get into Graham, and fortunately I had the good sense to choose Avodah, where I could be a “little star” in a very healthy, satisfying dance company. And that decision has made all of the difference!
At the end of my intense years both training with Graham and working on her reconstruction works, then the immensely diverse experiences performing in so many roles with Avodah, I felt deeply satisfied as a dance performer and was ready for the next step…. which just happened to be Italy via India…. dance being a constant companion throughout…but in extraordinarily unique settings, far from my NYC days.
I know that Louis would be very pleased to know that he was responsible for helping unite all of us in a little gem of a work that he and JoAnne created…. “Let My People Go!” It was one of my very favorite pieces in the Avodah repertoire because it gave us the chance to do so much – act, sing, dance different styles and change up pace so quickly that you were always on your toes. I learnt this great lesson on the art of choreographing from Louis…the grave importance of changing pace, dynamics, styles, directions, rhythms and energy. That lesson is monumental!
I’ll finish off this rather indulgent email (only in these times is this kind of epistle really possible – to write and perhaps even to be read) with how “Let My People Go” started on its first debut, to its final performance of the first season run. Our “virgin” performance was on a notably long, and rather narrow bema in Ohio, where we left notes on stage right and left as we exited, in order to remember where and when we entered and what we had to do….. to the last performance for that season, at Henry Street Settlement – 15 performances later – all done in less than a 2-month period.
That final Sunday afternoon matinee performance at Henry Street was a humble, but magical one! It was raining, I believe, and a rather gloomy Sunday afternoon, so there was hardly any audience and I don’t think Louis was present. But we were there, a now seasoned first cast, having worked together so hard and intensively, travelling for almost 6 weeks – planes, cars, hotels, restaurants, snow storms, missing cast members, dead deer, interesting hosts…. and so, we were seasoned in many ways…. enough so, that the final performance was truly a spiritual experience. We now knew the piece — and each other — very well, and on that stage at Henry Street Settlement, where the project had begun, something extraordinary happened. Every one of us began spontaneously to expand a little on our roles, sing an extra note, give an added expression, leap a little higher, or add an arm for emphasis. I remember watching Kezia, Newman, Loretta, Mark and Rob in between my own entrances, and so enjoying and appreciating their spontaneity and creativity. But above all, there was this amazing, tangible feeling between us – a sort of deep flow and understanding beyond words, of being united by vibrations – those invisible threads that bind us to the core. For me, that last run of “Let My People Go” was the essence and highest level of performance…….collective, joyful, fun and pure creativity in the moment.
Deborah in the performance at Henry St. of Let My People Go. Behind her is Loretta Abbott and drummer Leopoldo Fleming. Photo by Tom Brazil.
When I opened my email a few days ago, I was thrilled to see a message from my good friend Regina Ress, sharing a poem she wrote back in 2013 after we led a workshop for women inmates at the Santa Fe County Adult Correctional Facility. It resonated with me for two reasons. First, the work I have done in prisons and jails since 2002 has been very meaningful, and sometimes Regina and I worked together in those settings. Secondly, I recently built a labyrinth on my property, and walking it is something I do daily as well as encouraging guests to enjoy it. Regina’s poem was written in a follow-up workshop with the women on writing about our experience together walking a labyrinth (which I helped create) in the barbed wire encircled yard of that county jail.
Thank you, Regina!
About Regina:
Regina Ress, award-winning storyteller, actor, writer and educator, has performed and taught for over fifty years from Broadway to Brazil in a wide variety of settings from grade schools to senior centers, from homeless shelters and prisons to Lincoln Center and the White House. To learn more about Regina visit her at: www.reginaress.com/about.html
Spiraling into the Center and Outward Bound:
A Reflection on Walking the Labyrinth with the Women
Santa Fe County Corrections Department Adult Correctional Facility
October 3, 2013
by Regina Ress
Being in the Center.
Being is the Center.
Walking slowly
Entering, Centering.
The Path winds and doubles back
In and out into the Wider Path
Which winds and definitely doubles
Back upon itself; upon myself.
I encounter myself
In all the others
On the Path.
I love these women who, willing to walk,
Stay with me, with each other, with themselves
In the Center of this labyrinth.
Knowing what?
That we share the space
That we share the grace
Of the Center.
What is the way in?
That first step supported by the breath,
Moved forward on the breath;
Forward, spiraling gently in,
And gently out again.
The Center awaits us all.
As does the sun glistening on barbed wire.
An oddly beautiful spiral of circles,
Of spiraling circles,
Endless circles reaching out
To the blue sky beyond.
An odd gift, this cage.
A glimpse of moving wire
Meant to keep us in
But when looked at from
A different perspective,
It is a Trail, a Path
Of outward bound.
Photo by Judy Naumburg of the barbed wire in the Santa Fe County Corrections Department Adult Correctional Facility.
After earning her B.F.A. in dance at The Juilliard School in New York, Dina performed in the downtown and Off-Broadway scene. During over four decades in the dance world, she has been a contemporary dancer, choreographer, teacher, artistic director (LEAVING GROUND/DANCE) and writer. Her books include A Dancer’s Diary: Around the World in Thirteen Dances (see excerpt below) and Birds of a Feather, a Memoir. Additionally, her writing has appeared in The New Yorker, Dance International and on criticaldance.org. She has served on the faculty of Pacific Northwest Ballet School since 2001.
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After I graduated from The Juilliard School Dance Division in 1981, I auditioned and was accepted into the Avodah Dance Ensemble, directed by JoAnne Tucker, Ph.D. Tucker’s movement vocabulary showed a distinct influence of Graham technique, so I felt right at home, having studied at both the Martha Graham School and Juilliard. I dove right into learning the repertory – “Kaddish,” “I Never Saw Another Butterfly,” and “Noshing,” among others. The company toured throughout the U.S, performing in reform temples and Jewish Community Centers. Although I was raised Roman Catholic, I was fascinated with JoAnne’s weaving of movement from Jewish liturgy and ritual; it was definitely a learning experience at the intersection of dance, religion and culture.
I danced with Avodah for two years, and then took an offer to join the Easy Moving Dance Company based in North Carolina for a short tour, then returned to New York City to dance with the Douglas Hamby Dance Company, Chen and Dancers, and Dance Circle, directed by Ernesta Corvino. Fast forward to forty years later – JoAnne and I reconnected on social media, and upon my visiting here at her hacienda in Costa Rica, she has kindly asked me to be a guest blogger for mostlydance.com. I am happy and honored to both renew our friendship and to oblige her as a guest blogger on mostlydance.com.
Whereas most of my fellow dancers at Juilliard and later at graduate school at Arizona State University loathed any writing assignments, I relished them. I have always been a voracious reader and in recent years, I came to identify as a dancer who writes. In the early 2000’s, I became a moderator on the website criticaldance.org (it’s still going strong – check it out!) during its formative years, a site featuring reviews and feature articles, curated from around the world. After returning from a cultural tour of Cuba in 2014, I wrote a review of the National Ballet of Cuba’s transcendent “Swan Lake” production for criticaldance.org. I later contributed reviews of the works of Akram Khan, Crystal Pite, Aspen/Santa Fe Ballet and classical Balinese dance. A friend, mentor and set designer, Bou Frankel, suggested I collate these reviews and articles from criticaldance.org into a book, and so my first book, A Dancer’s Diary: Around the World in Thirteen Dances, was born.
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In today’s blog post, I share the Introduction of my book. I want to invite you on a journey with me through the mesmerizing and memorable world of dance, with stops along the way in thirteen different countries/choreographers.
Dina McDermott and Marty Ponte in Mandala. Photo: Shaun Parkhurst
Dancer’s Diary
Introduction
Like trying to capture a delicate butterfly, the art of dance enthralls yet eludes us. Like sand running through our fingers, it slips through our grasp when we attempt to quantify it. A dance performance can shock, bore or perturb us, but when the final curtain descends, it is gone forever, never to be repeated precisely the same way again. Dance embodies the elusiveness of time and memory, the impermanence of life.
As we tumble through the twenty-first century, globalization and the ever-widening influence of technology and social media render the art of dance ever more precious and necessary. Dance connects us to our humanity and helps us to locate our unique identity within humanity. In this book, I highlight some lesser known and distinct forms, choreographers and dancers, both theatrical and indigenous. Whether it be a specific Hindu view of the cosmos (Bali), an exquisite ballet tradition in an isolated, socialist country (Cuba), exploration of identity/sexuality (David Rousseve/REALITY), hybridization of Easter/Western forms (H.T. Chen/Remy Charlip) the Jewish/Arab conflict presented in We Love Arabs (Hillel Kogan), the tragedy of Betroffenheit (Crystal Pite/Jonathan Young), or the ancient spirit of duende in flamenco, (Spain), dance is rooted in the corporeal, but aspires to the divine. Join me on this terpsichorean journey, and together we will explore the sublime panoply of human movement-dance!”
A Dancer’s Diary: Around the World in Thirteen Dances, is available on Amazon. For further info-dinamcdermott.com. Questions or to purchase an autographed copy, contact Dina directly at mcdermott910@gmail.com.
I am pleased to welcome Tara Stepenberg as a guest blogger. Tara responded enthusiastically to my last blog about Jacob’s Pillow, when I invited anyone who had a memorable experience at the Pillow to contact me about doing a guest blog. Thank you, Tara, for sharing your experience. JoAnne
One evening in August of 1953, my mother and I went to Jacob’s Pillow for a performance. It was before dusk when we arrived. What first struck me were the rustic wooden cabins where students were staying. As we walked on the path by the cabins, the open windows allowed one to see inside. The rooms had lights on, and I could peer in, seeing pointe shoes hanging in the rooms (perhaps hanging down from rafters). I loved the look of that; it has stayed with me all these years and was experienced like some kind of “touchstone” for the future.
As was mentioned in a previous post, the place where the performances occurred was the “barn” and the program had different dance styles: classical ballet, modern and “ethnic” dance. (Each style was given equal weight. This was an important vision of Ted Shawn’s and was not lost on me). The performances were by the best representatives of these styles. I believe I saw Alicia Markova and perhaps one other ballet performer. For the “ethnic” portion, I saw the dynamic Jean Leon Destine (1918-2013) and his Afro-Haitian company. (For more information, google danceinteractive.jacobspillow.org to see photographs of this company.) He performed with Katherine Dunham and established his own company emphasizing dances/rituals from Haiti.
What I remember most about the performance is Giselle’s Revenge by Myra Kinch. I had seen the ballet Giselle in Rochester, but this Giselle was hilarious, dressed in all black, looking like the Addams Family, and there was a coffin and a hammer! (Giselle seduces her Albrecht into the coffin and nails it shut.) For photographs, google “Myra Kinch Giselle’s Revenge,” and photographs from Getty Images appear. (I could not find videos). Myra Kinch (1904-1981) was a modern dancer born in LA who trained with La Meri. She was known for her humor and satire – the focus of her choreographic output. She was head of the Modern Dance program at Jacob’s Pillow for 25 years beginning in l948.
The trip to Jacob’s Pillow was particularly memorable because it solidified for me what I wanted to do with my life. The affirmation occurred at dinnertime a day after the Jacob’s Pillow performance during our summer’s visit to a “farm” in Great Barrington. For several years, my family went to the Berkshires to spend a week on the “farm” of a family who were friends of my parents’ from their days with the American Labor Party. This lovely “farm” in Great Barrington, MA, was a beautiful place with many blackberry bushes, a nearby brook, and a run-down one-room schoolhouse filled with “old” books. The primary family also housed refugees from time to time and during this summer I noticed a person, a woman who had numbers on her forearm, and I learned that this woman had been in Auschwitz. (This was my first encounter with a survivor from the camps.)
I can see myself standing at the dinner table with many people around it. Someone asked me what I wanted to do or be when I grew up (I don’t remember the exact question). My response was, “When I grow up, I’m going to be a dancer, graduate high school early and go to New York.” And in fact I graduated high school just after turning 16, went to the Boston Conservatory of Music for a year, then Juilliard, and after graduating, performed with Anna Sokolow for a year.
Tara, age 11, the year after she visited Jacob’s Pillow.
Bio. Tara Stepenberg (ne. Francia Roxin) Tara (M.Ed., CMA, RMT) a former Education Director of LIMS, has been deeply engaged with movement for over 50 years, as a performing, creative artist, university professor, reconstructor from Labanotation, movement coach, somatic and authentic movement practitioner. She founded & directed the Dance Department at Hampshire College, taught at SUNY Brockport, The Naropa Institute, Antioch New England, Wesleyan Summer Program and Southwestern College. She currently is on the conditioning staff of Pacific Northwest Ballet, has a private practice Somatic Resonance, and in January (2022) completed the Ways of Seeing program with Suzi Tortora. Tara loves the places and spaces that engagement with the bodymind reveals.
Our writers’ group in Atenas is just 7 months old, yet a special intimacy has developed in coming together and sharing what we have prepared for the week or in responding to a prompt. I have experienced a similar rich friendship and closeness built when creating choreography for a new piece with a dance company, or going on tour with a small group of participants who only a few weeks before were strangers. That kind of warmth and fellowship developed quickly in our small writers’ group.
The writers’ group grew out of a workshop presented by Jennifer Paquette when she was my guest spending several weeks working on a historical fiction novel. A day before she was due to leave, she shared some of her writing and then prompted us to do some writing. Immediately afterwards several participants enthusiastically suggested, “Let’s start a regular writers’ group here.” And so we did. Jim Shaw was one of the people who was at the workshop and immediately wanted to be part of the new group.
I had known Jim since January 2020, when my husband and I moved to Costa Rica. At that time, Jim was President of our homeowners’ association and made a welcoming visit. Nine months later, when my husband passed away and Jim saw my post on Facebook, he immediately drove down to my house to check if there was anything he could do to help. That gesture sealed a special place in my heart for Jim.
When I began to think about inviting artist friends to spend some time at my home, I reached out to several members of the community for suggestions on places to take visitors and ways that we might interact with the community. Jim and his wife Tracey had lots of good suggestions. A year later when the artists’ visits began, Jim and Tracey enthusiastically attended the artists’ presentations.
Jim came to the writers’ workshop when he could. Writing wasn’t easy for him so sometimes he shared a combination of what he wrote and just talked about his poignant memories of growing up and being a pilot during the Vietnam war. Since confidentiality is an important component of the group, we won’t reveal specifics, but we will share how much Jim meant to us. I personally am so grateful for Jim’s friendship, founding role in our writers’ group, and the opportunity to have heard his writing and storytelling.
Members of the Writers’ Group Share Their Thoughts
From Rosalie Olds
Even though I’ve been living in Atenas for about three years, I only met Jim recently when we both joined a local writers’ group. His quick wit and twinkling smile endeared me to him right away. When I shared my writing piece, I found his comments supportive and insightful. I especially enjoyed hearing about his experiences serving in Vietnam. Jim clearly felt compassion for others and delighted in being kind and helpful. I’ll miss the ribbing he gave me when his beloved Astros beat the Mariners. May he rest in peace.
From Trey Mallard
Haiku for Jim Shaw: In Memoriam 01/17/2023
1943-2023
In one’s life, people cross your life’s journey for just a moment but have a lasting impact. For me, one of those people was Jim Shaw. We met at a party, and immediately, Crissy and I knew that Jim and Tracey would become fast friends. We had similar stories in that we were both on second marriages, and some would say we married “eye candy.” But Jim and I knew better. Even though there were age differences with younger wives, we had both met and married our “soul mate.” Jim joined the initial writers’ group organized by JoAnne Tucker, which met in her lovely home in Hacienda Atenas. We were all would-be writers, but Jim was the only one who had not put his stories down on paper–Wisconsin farm boy to Top Gun in the Vietnam war. His stories were difficult to transcribe because his war experiences were still much with him and hard to relive. Jim lived with significant physical disabilities but was always up for a good time. His smile and sparkle in his eyes belied internal pain but were an instant attraction to those he encountered. I was fortunate not to have been drafted into his war, but I understood what it was like to lose friends who never returned. His death was sudden and too soon. Here’s to you, my friend…
Top Gun y Mas
I
Home, country, farm boy
grew, handsome, gentle spirit
pilot, war, hero.
II
Soars on metal wings.
Flight, chase, fell the enemy.
Now, soaring on mist.
III
Second time love found
On love bird wings, two fly high
Soaring one flies home.
IV
Crippled body parts
needs extra feet for walking
now, one straight path, Light.
V
Blue eyes, smile lives on,
His loving memory strong.
New star, so bright, Jim
Jim Shaw Photo taken by Tracey Shaw on the Roue de Paris (Ferris wheel) on the Place de La Concorde in Paris when they visited 6 years ago. They went on a wine cycling tour in Burgundy and visited Paris before and after their wine tour. Tracey described it as a truly wonderful trip.
In the costume/pajamas. Photo by Tom Brazil.
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Regina Ress is an award winning storyteller, actor, author, and educator who has performed and taught from Broadway to Brazil, in English and Spanish, in settings from grade schools to senior centers, prisons to Carnegie Hall, homeless shelters to The White House. She teaches applied storytelling at NYU and produces a long-running storytelling series at NYU’s Provincetown Playhouse. She is a founding Board member of Healing Voices-Personal Stories. 
