Tag: Cantor Mark Childs

Rehearsals Begin for Binding

JoAnne Tucker / / Dance Midrash, New York Company

Rehearsals began with four collaborating dancers.  Deborah, Kezia, Susan and Beth (Bardin) had all helped to create Sisters.  There was an ease and comfort of working together that I really appreciated with a text like the Akedah which is challenging and disturbing.  I knew where I wanted to begin and that was opening with an angel ballet.  Having been introduced to a wide variety of percussion instruments by Newman Taylor Baker I also had decided that we would use text, chanting and percussion to accompany the movement.  That gives a certain freedom to choreographing as there is no music we need to follow.  It also means we don’t have any form to follow or any musical drive to motivate the piece.

I asked Mark Childs, the cantor we had worked with in Let My People Go, to help create the cantorial score of the piece and to be in at least the first performance in December 1989.  I was very grateful that Rabbi Norman Cohen had indicated his willingness to both speak before the piece was performed and to be part of the performance as well.

So we began with the angel ballet and played around with movement that might reflect a surreal appearance.  This included the dancers walking on tiptoe backwards, making diagonal crossing paths. Ritual movement from the Kedusha prayer would be incorporated.  The Kedusha is part of the Amidah, “the standing prayer which is central to every Jewish service.”  The Kedusha “calls us to imitate the choirs of angels singing ‘Holy, holy, holy.’ There is a custom of rising on our tiptoes with every repetition of the word kadosh, holy.” (https://velveteenrabbi.blogs.com/blog/2015/08/shabbat-morning-gratitude.html) 

We would take it a step further by turning the rising on the tiptoes to three jumps!  And toward the end of the opening angel ballet which is accompanied by a triangle percussion instrument, Mark would elegantly and boldly chant the traditional prayer.  Following that, the angels would birth the ram, inspired by Frederick Terna’s painting,  to the accompaniment of the traditional sounds of the shofar.

Costumes can sometimes help create a mood.  Somehow I wanted to have a very simple look to the piece and yet have the dancers have fabric that could indicate angel wings.  I loved the pants we had for performing the piece M’Vakshei Or and thought they could work with a black leotard.  The pants had a wrap-around design that gave a perfect place for fabric to be added.  Sometimes when I don’t know what to do for costumes I wander in department stores, particularly in designer areas.  As I was wandering around a store I came across a very simple and elegant chiffon poncho.  It had an irregular cut to it.  The price was over $200 and definitely out of our budget.  I drew a quick sketch of how it was constructed and realized it would be simple to make.  Next stop was the fabric store to pick out four different pastel colors in chiffon and enough extra to add some fabric to the pants.  The costumes worked and gave just the effect I wanted.


The Angels birthing the ram. From l. to r. Beth Bardin, Susan Freeman (as the ram), Deborah Hanna, and Kezia Gleckman Hayman in the chapel at Hebrew Union College – Jewish Institute of Religion, NYC.  Much to my disappointment we have neither formal professional pictures of this piece, nor any taken in dress rehearsal.  Luckily we have a video of the dress rehearsal.  So I have copied the VHS to a DVD and then to an MP4 file.  Using a screen shot I have captured some moments from the piece that I will be sharing in the blog. 

The next section of the piece is based on exploring this line of text: “After these things, God put Abraham to the test.” What were these things?  A duet begins between Deborah and Susan inspired by this poem:

Ishmael the older brother, boasted of his
Blood and brayed: My blood was drained when I was thirteen:

The younger Isaac whispered: if God
Wishes to take me, let God take all of me.


Deborah (standing) and Susan in the forefront as the brothers

At one of the early rehearsals Susan arrived with two poems she had written that she offered for the piece.  With her permission I share these poems which became part of the piece (with slight variations) and inspired choreography.

Abraham’s Trial
 
Hagar is crying – –
Banished and weary – –
In the wilderness.
The desert horizon is
Thirst and starvation.
Collapsing to her knees
She buries her face – –
Not to watch as Death’s path
Unwinds its parched fingers
Ready to take her son
In its suffocating embrace.
 
Hagar is crying in the  – –
After these things
Abraham was put on trial. Abraham is crying,
Forced to turn,
Return to the place
Familiar in his dreams – –
Wilderness.
(written by Rabbi Susan Freeman)
 

Beth and Kezia (l-r) as Hagar interpreting this poem in dance.

The piece continues using the second poem that Susan wrote:

The Birth of Isaac
 
Before these things
Sarah lay breathless.
Her eyes full, her cheeks damp,
Abraham holding their newborn son,
Joyous astonishment – –
And Sarah laughed.
Amazing is the One
Who creates life and death,
Laughter and tears.
And they called the child Isaac.
 
After these things
Sarah lay breathless,
Her eyes full, her cheeks damp.

A dance follows with Deborah as Sarah holding her new son and the three other dancers giggling and laughing in movement until the movement changes to a more hysterical, crying tone.

As the story unfolds Norman and Mark join the dancers on stage portraying Abraham and Isaac.

I could go on describing how the piece continues but instead let me invite you to click this link and see the final rehearsal for yourself.

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The Beginnings of a New Piece Based on the Akedah and Terna’s Paintings

JoAnne Tucker / / Art, Dance Midrash, New York Company

Shortly after the creation of Sisters, Rabbi Norman Cohen suggested Avodah create another dance midrash piece based on the Akedah portion of Genesis (22: 1–19) where God commands Abraham to offer his son Isaac as a sacrifice.  The Joseph Gallery of Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion was planning an exhibit of paintings by Frederick Terna called  “Articulation of Hope: The Binding of Isaac.”  Norman thought an Avodah concert featuring a new piece based on Terna’s paintings would be excellent to include in the series of programs related to the Exhibition. I had mixed feelings about focusing on these lines of text as they were very difficult for me to relate to. I agreed and we set the date for December 13th, the last of the programs so I could wait until the paintings arrived at the college and I could see Terna’s visual interpretation.

About a week before the opening, Norman called to let me know that the paintings had arrived and suggested I walk through the gallery with him to look at them.  This would also give me an opportunity to discuss the text with him and gain some more insight into these critical lines that play such a strong role in Jewish life… not only read when that portion of the Torah is read but also read on the High Holiday of Rosh Hashanah (Jewish New Year). 

As I walked through the gallery, studying each painting carefully I was struck by the strong role of the angels and the ram that is finally sacrificed instead of Isaac. A painting entitled An Offering Set Aside shows the ram as an egg in a womb of perhaps an angel.  Once I saw that painting I thought I might have a place to begin.

In my file I found a brochure that HUC-JIR created for the exhibit that includes a biography of Terna and a scholarly essay written by Norman on Frederick Terna and the exhibition.  Norman notes:

Drawn to the piercing questions of the Akedah, Frederick Terna has wrestled with this text for many years. As a Holocaust survivor he has found in this story one vehicle to deal with his own life experiences and to express deep-seated emotions in a most creative manner.  

Norman also refers to the one painting that had the most poignancy for me in beginning the creative work on the piece.

An Offering Set Aside reminds us that from the very outset of creation, the ram, the salvational vehicle and through its horns, the symbol of the messianic, is waiting.  Programmed into human existence from its inception is the potential for redemption.

When I left Norman that day after seeing the paintings, I had a hunch where the new piece on the Akedah would begin.  I also was impressed with Terna’s paintings which while sometimes showing the pain and suffering of the text also had a softness and nurturing quality to them using feminine colors.  Perhaps that could calm my uncomfortable feeling of creating a piece on text that I found extremely puzzling and which did not have a woman’s voice in it at all.  It was a story of a father and son with Sarah, the mother, not even mentioned.

In reflecting back on developing this new piece on just nineteen lines of text from Genesis I realized it brought together elements that both challenged and inspired me.  It required that I do research and make sure I was aware of traditional midrashim as well as contemporary thought.  It involved collaboration with Rabbi Norman Cohen, an outstanding scholar; Mark Childs, a cantor I had just worked with in creating “Let My People Go,” and a wonderful group of dancers.  And then there were the paintings of Frederick Terna to inspire and point me in new directions.

When I looked at traditional midrashim on the nineteen lines it was fascinating to me to see that the phrase “after these things,” which is part of the opening line of text,  had lots of midrashim. Hum… we could work with this in dance… indeed what were “these things” that might have caused God to put Abraham to such a test as to sacrifice his son?  

I had also recently read a book called The Thirteen Petalled Rose: A Discourse on the Essence of Jewish Existence and Beliefby Adin Steinsaltz.  In the book he talks about angels in Jewish text, suggesting that each is a manifestation of a single emotional response or essence.  Angels were an important part of Frederick Terna’s paintings and so Steinsaltz’s words became particularly meaningful for me as I prepared to meet with the dancers and begin work on the new piece.

It would be an interesting journey working with the four dancers to create the piece, and both Norman Cohen and Mark Childs had agreed to collaborate and even perform in the first performance.  Luckily I have a video of the final rehearsal for the performance, which I will refer to in the next blog on this piece. I also have two other videos of the piece:  one that is done five years later and a third that was done eight or nine years later.  As I watched all three videos one evening I was struck by how a piece evolves over time  — from when Norman Cohen and Mark Childs were part of the piece,  actually moving on stage with the dancers; to a performance with a cantor alone singing and narrating the story;  to the dancers handling singing, chanting text and narrating as they move. I will share more about this over the next several blogs.

Before closing this blog I want to share more about the painter Frederick Terna.  The program for the exhibition of his paintings on the Akedah includes a section that he wrote:

About twenty years ago, leafing through one of my old sketchbooks, I came upon a drawing that resembled a person wielding a knife over a smaller figure. It made me pause and I wondered who I feared or who I had wanted to kill.  Searching for an answer and not finding one, I wondered about the prototype, the archetype.  Abraham and Isaac came to mind.  I opened a new sketchbook, put aside the old one, and proceeded to play with the idea.


He continued to explain the relationship of his paintings to the Holocaust:

During World War II, I spent more than three years in German concentration camps.  Painting around the theme of the Akedah has become one of my ways, though not the exclusive one, of dealing with those years.  

I was curious if Frederick Terna was still alive; since he was born in 1923 he would be 96 now.  I Googled and found that he is indeed alive and he had an exhibit at St. Francis College in Brooklyn Heights, NY in the winter of 2017.

On a website called The Ripple Project there is a wonderful interview of him that is called “A Lesson in Civility” and I quote from it. Here’s a link to read more and see some recent photos which I hunch are from about 2017: 

A writer from the Ripple Project asked Fred what he thought of the Presidential election.  His response is described:

He closed his eyes for [a] second, as he often does before he begins to speak, as if to enhance the drama. Tilting his head right and with a wry smile said: “I’m disappointed, confused, and surprised but not worried. Dictators don’t last, it’s against human nature. We just need to keep our civility.” 

As the discussion continued:

Fred responded in a deeper tone, the smile was gone: “When we were in the camps, facing death, humiliation, starvation, anger, not knowing if we will live another 10 minutes… we still kept our civility. We always knew the Nazis wouldn’t last, it’s against human nature. It doesn’t matter what the Nazis did to us, how much they screamed and yelled at us. When we were alone in the room, at night, we were civilized. We knew that our civility is the key to survival, our humanity and civility will outlast the Nazis. It might take a month, a year or ten, but it will outlast them.”

I am indeed very humbled and inspired by both the paintings and words of Fred Terna.  Civility is something for all of us to keep in mind each and every day.

Postcard announcing the Exhibit at HUC-JIR

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Guest Post by Cantor Mark Childs: Beyond my Comfort Zone

JoAnne Tucker / / "Let My People Go", Guest Posts

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!

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A Performance Etched in all of our Memories

JoAnne Tucker / / "Let My People Go"

For 10 years “Let My People Go” played an important role in Avodah’s repertory.  One community after another put together dynamic programs forging new relationships or strengthening ongoing collaborations. In this blog I want to share memories of a Chicago  performance that stands out in my mind.  When I am with any of the performers who took part on Sunday, February 18, 1990, they often speak of how they remember it, too.

To begin with, this new season saw Newman Taylor Baker become a regular touring member.  Kezia wrote a wonderful salute to Newman in an early 1990s Avodah Newsletter:

Newman Baker…. brings inspiring talent and extensive credentials. His bio states only that he performs with Henry Threadgill, Reggie Workman and Abdullah Ibrahim; he studied music at Virginia State University and East Carolina University, and he has taught in the public schools and at college level.  But he also has patented and hopes to market a clever contraption which prevents a drum set from sliding on the floor while being played, has traveled regularly throughout the world and is a rich resource for information on the music and customs of many cultures. …. Newman’s impish smile can turn any crisis into just enough of a joke to be manageable, and we cheer as we hear the approach of the Indian bell which is always tied to his luggage.  Leaving his drum set and other jazz treasures at home, Newman has scored our piece with a collection of instruments which fascinates audiences and cast alike.  In our spare moments (with Newman’s generous permission), we are drawn to examine the shells, gourds, bells, whistles and other music-makers which click-clack, rattle, knock, jingle, whine and “boing” magically in Newman’s orchestration.  There is always excitement when we discover Newman has brought a new toy for his symphony, and we take turns trying to kidnap our favorite item, his giant rain stick, which sifts seeds and sands in a soothing whisper.  Newman’s most vocal instrument is his talking drum, which played by him speaks most eloquently; we heard with awe that this drum speaks the actual tonal language of certain African tribes.  Although Newman, always humble, prefers to appear a quiet character behind his instruments, we value his professional judgment (which we seek out) and his tales of travel, and he adds much pleasure to our trips.

Newman with his blanket of instruments  (Photo by Tom Scott)

and with an excited young audience member (photo by Kezia Gleckman Hayman).

Also new for the season was Christopher Hemmans.  When Rob wasn’t available to tour I called my good friend Linda Kent, a member of Juilliard’s dance faculty, to ask her if she knew of a student who would be right for “Let My People Go.”  She highly recommended Christopher and he quickly learned the part.  My first vivid memory of the unforgettable trip was when the plane took off and I heard a scream from the seat behind me — and then Loretta saying calmly to Christopher that everything would be all right.  We learned that this was the first time that Staten Island-native Christopher had ever been in a plane.  When we landed in Midway airport in Chicago several young boys were totally fascinated with the tall athletic Christopher, sure he was a famous basketball player.  Today Christopher lives in Germany where he teaches Yoga and regularly performs in Broadway shows.  To learn more about Christopher here’s a link to a blog written in 2013 with an impressive list of the shows he has appeared in.

Mark Childs was really looking forward to this performance at KAM Isaiah Israel Congregation in Chicago because Max Janowski, a leading composer of 20thcentury Jewish music and composer of some of the most famous modern synagogue music, was Director of Music at KAM. KAM has a long and distinguished history as one of the founding congregations in 1874 of the Union for American Hebrew Congregations now known as the Union for Reform Judaism. They also had an outstanding reputation for their commitment to social justice.

Arriving in the Hyde Park area of Chicago, we found the housing was particularly elegant. The day before the performance we were taken to a lovely lunch by Mrs. Janowski, as Max was not in the best of health and was not able to join us.  Seated upstairs in a lovely restaurant, we had a friendly waitress that Newman has kept in contact with to this very day.  When Christopher couldn’t decide between two entrees, Newman suggested that he order both, which he (and perhaps Newman) did, to the good-humored surprise of Mrs. Janowski.

KAM had a long-standing collaboration with Liberty Baptist Church and their Sanctuary Choir was awesome. Under the musical direction of Marcus Love their voices soared.   I was standing in the back of this beautiful Byzantine-inspired synagogue at Greenwood Avenue and Hyde Park Boulevard across the street from what we now know was the Obama family’s Chicago home.  The synagogue was packed.  As the program ended with “We Shall Overcome” the audience stood and linked hands, and voices uplifting in song brought tears to my eyes.

Deborah shared that:

What I remember was the incredible space in which we performed, the immensity of the acoustics and the beautiful, heartfelt response of the audience and their comments.  They spoke of how the performance  reminded them of the shared efforts between the Black and Jewish communities during the Civil Rights movement. I remember congregants afterwards speaking to one another from their different churches saying how they should get together more often for interfaith projects… how much history they shared in common, how emotional they felt… and how we as performers felt their involvement on a deep level.

The Chicago Tribune in their Quick Picks section recommended the program referring to it as a day of dance and harmony.  It was!!  I saved the Quick Picks article and the program cover from the performance.

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Bringing Groups Together: Two-Month Tour of “Let My People Go”

JoAnne Tucker / / "Let My People Go"

The next two performances were in the New York area.  Rodeph Sholom on Manhattan’s Upper West Side and Memorial Baptist Church of Harlem jointly featured “Let My People Go” as part of their tribute to Martin Luther King, Jr.  The congregations had an ongoing cooperative relationship.  The Friday night Sabbath Service found Memorial’s Pastor Preston Washington joining the Rabbis of Rodeph Sholom in leading the service, followed by the combined choirs of the Baptist Church.  “Let My People Go” concluded the evening.

A week later on Saturday evening the choir of Brooklyn Heights Synagogue along with the choir of the Lafayette Avenue Presbyterian Church of Ft. Greene opened a program at St. Ann’s and the Holy Trinity Church, organized by Brooklyn Heights Synagogue (of which I was a member) under the leadership of Rabbi Richard Jacobs, a former Avodah dancer.  We are fortunate that this performance of “Let My People Go” was videotaped by Randy Hayman; here is the link to watch it. When I watch the video it reminds me of the dedication of the performers and their incredible passion as they leaped, sang, and spoke James Weldon Johnson’s words.

The season included three college performances. The first was sponsored by Brandeis’s Hillel Foundation and the University itself, for Black History Month. The second was part of a Jewish Arts Festival with Black History Month in Bowker Auditorium on the campus of the University of Massachusetts in Amherst, MA.  The third was sponsored by Hillel and Eracism, an anti-racism student group at the University of Pennsylvania.  Two students were quoted as saying the program was part of Black History Month and that the show was aimed at improving race relations on campus.  The Pennsylvania Gospel Choir performed after “Let My People Go.”

A unique collaboration in Norfolk, Virginia brought the Urban League and the Jewish Community Center together to sponsor a performance on Sunday night in the Chrysler Museum Theater.  It was the first time but not the last that we performed in a Museum where security is heightened and one enters through special doors.  The philosophy behind this sharing was well expressed by Mary Redd:  “One of the things the Urban League is about is building bridges.  So I think ofLet My People Go in terms of letting all people be free.” She went on to share in an interview published by the Virginia Pilot and Ledger Star, “The performance, which comes in the middle of Black History Month, coincides with Urban League Sunday.  That’s an annual awareness day commemorating the founding of the National Urban League in 1910.”   The following Monday morning the company performed at a local high school in a lively morning assembly (see the following poem by Kezia for more about the morning).

The last two performances were back in the NY area. On Saturday night in Plainfield, New Jersey, the performance was sponsored by the Association for Rehabilitation with Kindness, a joint organization of St. Mark’s Episcopal Church and Temple Emanu-El of  Westfield,NJ.  The organization focuses on the rehabilitation of housing.  This performance was especially meaningful for me, as Rabbi Kroloff, an Avodah Board Member, was the leader of Temple Emanu-El and it was in his office that the idea to develop a program like “Let My People Go” was first discussed (See Blog 2).  We were thrilled to get excellent press in the New Jersey section of The New York Times, where Barbara Gilford, having seen the performance earlier at Rodeph Sholom wrote, “The work has both substance and texture with eloquence and emotional forces suffusing spoken and movement sequences. Images and bodies seamlessly melt into one another. A vision of the Israelites in Egyptian bondage becomes a tableau of black slavery as black and Jewish voices become one cry for deliverance”(February 19, 1989).

Additional press in Newark’s Star-Ledger by Valerie Sudol included a quote by Louis Johnson:  “’This was a wonderful project,’ he said of his work with Tucker. ‘The piece deals with issues that are right in front of us every day. It’s about life as it’s lived here and now, not in some remote time or place’”  (February 12, 1989).

From L to R: Loretta Abbott, Deborah Hanna, and Mark Childs

Photo by Tom Brazil

The last performance of the season was on Sunday, February 26th, at the Henry Street Settlement in their wonderful old theater.  Deborah Hanna wrote of that last performance:

There was a very modest Sunday afternoon audience as I recall, but our performance was breathtaking. After this intense tour, we had arrived to such a free, creative and connected place between all of the performers that we were actually improvising new things, anticipating and working together with that magical harmony that performers live for… That priceless, beyond time and space experience that unfortunately happens so rarely in a performing career.  In the end, it didn’t matter where we were or who was in front of us… that last performance was all ours. (From Avodah Memory,  February 29, 2004 by Deborah Hanna).

Deborah Hanna (foreground) and Loretta Abbott

Photo by Tom Brazil

The drummer who had first begun the piece was not available and so we had two subs during the season: Eli Fontaine and Newman Taylor Baker.  While Eli would occasionally join us again over the next several years, Newman became a regular Avodah touring member and incredible collaborator.  More to come about Newman.

Kezia, in the March 1989 Avodah Newsletter, playfully and elegantly summarized the season and I end this Blog with her poem:

And About That Black-Jewish History Project….
IN the beginning, were doubts, we admit;
Would visions and methods and temperaments fit?
Soon the group’s gathered, and quickly we’re friends.
Just into rehearsal, surprises descend:

We’re told we must sing. “We’re just dancers,” we rant,
Cantor Mark, told to dance, cries, “I can’t; I just cant.”
(If Louis said “Fly!” he’d want wings to unfold);
Rumpelstiltskin, we need, to turn straw into gold.

En route to our premiere, we can’t help but fret;
We realize we’ve not done one full run-through yet!
They love all our dancing, the music, the text.
They don’t know we still whisper, “Help!” Which part comes next?”

For two months we travel, most weekends and more;
The dust in our homes slowly covers the floor.
Our friends rarely see us; we don’t get much rest,
But the piece grows with each show, from better to best.

We’re scheduled with choirs or questions and answers;
New groups come together in sponsoring dancers!
We hope that such links grow as fast as our piece;
(Next year, how ‘bout soul food with matzoh ball feasts?!)

A high school performance – a morning assembly –
That audience still makes us smile, remembering;
We run and we roll and we moan and we scream;
It’s the funniest thing that they ever have seen!

They not only enjoy, but they do understand,
And perhaps they see clearest the point right at hand:
If the world were just like the small crew of our show,
No one would need cry, “Let My People Go.”

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Rehearsals Begin for “Let My People Go”

JoAnne Tucker / / "Let My People Go"

Starting work on a new piece always brings a level of anxiety.  Will this work?  And collaborating with a new person brings additional questioning:  How will we get along?  Who will do what?  With Louis it was hard to pin down a specific schedule of when he would be there and so I learned quickly that I would need to have a whole lot of flexibility on one hand and at the same time a sense of stability for the six performers.

Usually I had to rent rehearsal space for the company.  For this piece I didn’t, as Louis generously made a studio available for us at Henry Street.  That also gave Louis the flexibility of making himself available as his schedule allowed without having to do any additional traveling.

I remember climbing stairs to a lovely small dance studio, like an attic area of Henry Street, that worked perfectly for us, especially at first when we were working in small groups and not running the full piece. I quickly learned that having a high degree of flexibility was almost an understatement, and I had to be prepared to choreograph or rehearse whether Louis was there or not.  Louis and I had talked about the fact I should feel free to choreograph sections of the poem that appealed to me.  Quite a few early rehearsals were with Kezia, Loretta and Deborah creating movement to sections of the poem in my typical modern dance style.

When Louis was available, I knew my role was to watch carefully what he was setting so that I could review and rehearse sections he set, at later rehearsals when he wasn’t there.  Louis is a true showman, looking for dramatic opportunities.  He soon framed the piece with entrances that each dancer invented, crossing the stage while shouting “Let My People Go.”  This is followed by a confrontation of the three women that then leads to Kezia’s being pushed to the ground.  In the silence that follows, Deborah moves downstage, and picks up a stage prop book of the James Weldon Johnson poem and begins to read from it.  I loved watching Louis work and build amazing dramatic moments into the thirty-five minute piece.  He found moments to add comedy and surprise twists to the retelling of the poem, and to bring in recent history with references to Martin Luther King and South Africa.

One of the memorable moments of the rehearsal period was when Mark Childs came to his first rehearsal with Louis.  Louis assigned him some movement to do, and Mark strongly proclaimed he didn’t dance; he was there to chant.  Louis would hear nothing of it and gave him a movement assignment, and before long, Mark was totally engaged in not only singing but in dancing.  And then Louis wanted to know what instrument Mark played.  When Mark said he played a saxophone, he was told to bring it to the next rehearsal.  And so Mark brought his sax to rehearsal.  When Louis suggested that Mark slide across the stage while playing his saxophone, Mark drew the line and refused.  Louis respected that and so at three different places in the piece Mark added variety by playing both traditional melodies on the sax and improvising while crossing or circling the stage.   And so it went . . . Louis’s imagination challenging performers and adding fun theatrical moments.  Louis asked Kezia what tricks she could do.  Stumped, she said she didn’t do any tricks.  Laughing, she added, “I blow bubbles,” referring to children’s soap bubbles that she had brought on a recent tour.  And so there is Kezia in the piece, running across the stage waving a child’s bubble wand with a stream of bubbles floating behind her (“Pharoah called for his magic men, and they worked wonders, too”).

At another moment, Loretta breaks into a rap version of “Let My People Go.”  At one of our meetings in Louis’s office before rehearsal he shared that he loved to listen to pop music that kids were listening to, so that he stayed in touch with current trends and had new things to inspire him. I loved his sense of “entertainment” and saw that even in dealing with difficult and serious subjects, playful movement worked.  I was learning a lot from him.

Loretta had appeared in the Broadway show “Purlie” that Louis had choreographed, and at one rehearsal Louis added a step from that choreography.  Loretta carefully coached the other dancers – including Mark — so that the movement and accent would be just right.  Loretta was invaluable in helping us when Louis wasn’t there, as she understood his style and what he would want.

Following a dance solo for Rob, Louis added the moment that had sparked his interest in doing the project.  Loretta sang the spiritual “Go Down Moses” while Mark chanted the related Hebrew text from Exodus while circling the stage.  That remains for me one of the most powerful moments in the thirty-five minute piece.

As we got close to the final rehearsal, our drummer, Leopoldo, joined us, and Louis came up with the idea of the drummer opening the show, entering an empty, dimly lit stage or walking down the aisle to the performing area.  The show also ended with just the drummer on stage and one dancer having been pushed to the floor.  It worked.  We began to have run-throughs and always some new idea came to Louis’s imagination and he eagerly added it.  I remember sitting beside him at our final rehearsal which was in a much larger room than usual, and thinking how well the overall piece looked. My husband Murray joined me, since I wanted to make sure he would get to see it and to meet Louis. I was amazed at the new ideas and changes that Louis continued to add, even at that final rehearsal.  That was nearly 30 years ago, yet the experience is strongly etched in my mind.

I am so glad that we had photographer Tom Brazil come to one of the rehearsals and capture the early stages of the piece.  Later he returned and took pictures at a performance.

Rehearsing the “Purlie” step. From L to R: Loretta Abbott, Rob Danforth and Deborah Hanna.

“And Moses with his rod in hand.”  From L to R: Deborah, Loretta, and Kezia

“And Pharaoh called the overseers!”  From L to R: Rob, Mark, Deborah and Loretta

All three photos by Tom Brazil

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