Tag: dance midrash

Reflection on the “Jews and Jewishness in the Dance World” Conference

JoAnne Tucker / / Current Dance Events, Movement Workshops

Let me begin by sharing the history of how and why I decided to go to this conference.  I saw a notice about it posted by Naomi Jackson on the National Dance Education Association bulletin board about a year and a half ago.  Shortly after seeing it, I received a copy of the notice from Elizabeth McPherson, who danced in Avodah for seven years and with whom I have kept in regular touch, often meeting on my occasional trips to NYC.  She wanted to make sure I saw it and wanted to encourage me to apply. What followed was a series of emails with Naomi, as I wondered what kind of presentations she had in mind, and then later emails with Elizabeth.  The conference seemed to be very broad, looking at “Jewishness” and dance from many different angles.  Since I have moved on from The Avodah Dance Ensemble and using Jewish themes as motivation for creating choreography or doing workshops, I wanted to share something that felt current to me now.  In discussions with Elizabeth the idea of presenting on Helen Tamaris came up.  She was a pioneer modern dancer, and Jewish, and most important to me, her work is the thread that influenced both the work that I did with Avodah and the work that I do now.  Perfect.

So we came up with the idea that Elizabeth and I would submit together.  She would share the history of Helen Tamiris, teaching one or two sections of Helen Tamiris’s Negro Spirituals, (see Blog Honoring Helen Tamiris on how we added Negro Spirituals to Avodah’s repertory) and I would share some ideas from studying composition with Tamiris. I was thrilled and while still feeling a sense of reluctance to attend, I felt very good about the presentation I would be part of.  And what a surprise I received.

Elizabeth presenting her paper on Tamiris.

Elizabeth teaching “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” from Tamiris’s Negro Spirituals

Naomi set up a Google Drive where we could all share information from books published related to Jewish dance, choreography by Jewish choreographers or pieces on Jewish themes.  Lots of sharing went on as well as discussions on a logo for the conference and individuals’ memories of important influences in their work.  I followed and did post a little.  My husband and good friend Regina commented to me that every time I mentioned the conference I made a strange face that clearly lacked enthusiasm.  I wondered what three days of the conference would mean for me and didn’t have high hopes.  And clearly I was not alone in feeling this way, as once there, this questioning came up in quiet conversations.  But the thank you’s after the conference, again using our connection through Google Drive, were unanimous in sharing how good and meaningful the conference was and hoping there would be more.

In addition to Elizabeth, my good friend and dance/film collaborator Lynne Wimmer decided to go to.  (See Blog on “In Praise” in Pittsburgh and watch the film “Through the Door” which we co-directed in 2016.) Lynne and I would be roommates and we looked forward to catching up on our recent adventures.  So I went knowing that at least I would be hanging out with people I really enjoyed. I also decided to drive so that I would have a car to make it easy to get around and do other things in the area should the conference be “boring.”  It wasn’t at all boring, but the car was helpful in enabling us to select restaurants that weren’t in easy walking distance.

The overall energy of the conference was a genuine sharing of who we are and our role in dance and how it might relate to our “Jewishness.” From presentations on key historical figures (such as ours about Helen Tamiris), to panels on dance therapy or how one’s choreography related to social justice, participants shared enthusiastically and audience members listened carefully and respectfully.  For the majority of the time slots of an hour and fifteen minutes we had to select which one of four presentations we wanted to attend and it was often hard to choose since all looked good.

The opening evening program on Saturday  was a selection of dance films curated by Ellen Bromberg, Professor at the University of Utah who teaches Screendance. I loved seeing an early film of Daniel Nagrin and the fun film techniques used in 1953 when the film was made.

Sunday night was a concert curated by Liz Lerman and Wendy Perron.  Outstanding moments from the concert were: a piece beautifully performed by college-age Maggie Waller; Send Off performed by Jesse Zarrit to a recorded text of Hanoch Levin focused on the Akedah (the binding of Isaac) from Issac’s point of view; and The Return of Lot’s Wife by Sara Pearson in which Lot’s wife finally confronts God in her 1950’s Brooklyn kitchen.  All pieces were beautifully danced and the last two I mentioned had a wonderful sense of humor to them.

A photograph from Torah in Motion: Creating Dance Midrash that I co-authored with Rabbi Susan Freeman in 1990 was included in the Exhibition of “Reimagining Communities Through Dance” curated by Judith Brin Ingber and Naomi Jackson.

From Torah in Motion: Creating Dance Midrash. Rabbi Susan Freeman working with students from Brooklyn Heights Synagogue.  Photo by Tom Brazil

I found the panel on Dance Therapy to have a lot of historical information and loved the presentations by two of the women, Miriam Berger and Joanna Harris. An intense panel “Exploring the Complex Relations Between Jews and non-Jewish Arabs through Dance” followed and stirred some interesting reflections on whether dance events can help build relationships.

Perhaps the most meaningful moments came the last day and were both experiential movement moments. One was leading the experiential part of our presentation on Helen Tamiris. Tamiris’s composition class focused on the use of gesture to build movement.  I chose to share a way I use this idea with non-dancers.  I asked each of the 15 participants to say one or two words of how they felt at the moment and then we went around with each sharing a gesture that fit their word.  It was an intergenerational group all with a strong dance background and as we built a phrase of our 15 gestures a warmth and community developed.

Later that day I attended a workshop by Victoria Marks and Hannah Schwadron called “Dancing Inter-connections.”  Again it was an intergenerational experience with over 30 participants.  One improvisation featured us finding the way to move in the space between us.  The weaving was fun to do and we had to be inventive to find the space between us. The ending improvisation focused on the word “lingering” in movement interactions. That was particularly rich and beautiful.  In the feedback afterwards one of the young college-age dancers mentioned how meaningful it was to dance with the older generation.  How she felt nurtured and empowered.  And how wonderful that felt, to hear it come from a young woman.

As I reflect back on the experience I am of course very glad to have gone. I loved the many new and renewed connections.  And I wonder whether it was the Jewishness or the dance that so resonated for me, or the combination. I am most grateful to Naomi Jackson for her leadership in maintaining an openness and inclusiveness within the intent of the conference.  Once again I am reminded of the important spiritual connection for me in dance, both by moving, myself, and being inspired by watching dance.

    Closing ceremony dance. Photo by Tim Trumble

Exploring Biblical Sarah

JoAnne Tucker / / Dances on Biblical Women, New York Company, Tallahassee

The third piece that Irving Fleet and I collaborated on was called Sarah. I mentioned it in the blog about the beginning of the New York company and want to go into more detail about the piece in this blog. Irving is quoted in an article in the Tallahassee Democrat as saying, “JoAnne was always intrigued with the character of Sarah” (March 2, 1979).  And I hunch that was probably what motivated us to begin exploring her story.  We honed in on that part of her life centered on first being unable to bear a child for her husband, then offering her handmaiden, Hagar, to bear a child for her and finally, when she becomes pregnant, Abraham celebrating the news.  For me this was the beginning of my own journey creating “dance midrash.” Midrash refers to both the early interpretations and commentaries on Torah as well as modern ones.  At the time I didn’t know this word. Later I would create a number of dance pieces that I considered midrash, co-author a book on dance midrash (Torah in Motion: Creating Dance Midrash, with Rabbi Susan Freeman), and teach many workshops involving dance midrash. 

While telling the story was somewhat important, it was exploring Sarah’s emotions that we focused on the most: Sarah’s anguish at not becoming pregnant; her jealousy and anger at Hagar when Hagar does bear a child for Abraham, which results in Sarah banishing Hagar; and then her joy when she becomes pregnant in her old age.  

Ritual movement again played an important choreographic role in the piece.  When Abraham renews his covenant with God following news of Sarah’s pregnancy, Sarah, in our midrash, takes off the rope from her gown and gives it to Abraham.  He then uses it for tefillin (ritual leather boxes with straps, which contain Torah text). Tefillin are traditionally only worn by men during the weekday morning service. They wrap one set around the arm, hand and fingers, and wrap the other set above the forehead. As Abraham is often referred to as the father of the morning prayer this ritual seemed an appropriate one to draw on.  In the same article in the Tallahassee Democrat that I referred to earlier I am quoted as saying, “Dance composition should go back to everyday gestures, take them, enlarge and manipulate them.”  And that is exactly what I did with the ritual of wrapping tefillin. I thought it worked very well.  However, not everyone agreed with me.  In fact, we had received some funding that year from the National Foundation for Jewish Culture and when the piece was later performed in New York City, the Executive Director from the NFJC made a very strong point of letting me know that I clearly didn’t understand what wrapping tefillin was, as it was entirely inappropriate for Sarah to hand Abraham the rope from her gown to use.  Indeed I did very much understand and part of my feminist statement was purposefully to have Sarah hand it to him.

On Saturday March 3, 1979, the first performance of Sarah was held as part of a concert at Temple Israel in Tallahassee along with Sabbath Woman, In Praise and I Never Saw Another Butterfly.   The piece was created on the Tallahassee company with Ellen Ashdown as Sarah, Michael Bush as Abraham, Judith Lyons as Hagar and  two handmaidens, Donna Campbell and Trish Whidden. 

From my scrapbook. Photograph that was part of the Tallahassee Democrat article,
March 2, 1979.

Six weeks later I recreated the piece for the New York company with Lynn Elliott dancing the role of Sarah in a performance at Hebrew Union College – Jewish Institute of Religion’s West 68thStreet Campus.  

In the fall of 1979, we did a three-week season at Henry St. Settlement House on the Lower East Side of New York City as part of the American Jewish Theater.  This was an excellent experience for us and I will write a full blog about it.  For right now I want to share part of a review from Dance Magazine (by Marilyn Hunt) of  the performance of Sarah  at Henry St. 

             Sarah, a Grahamesque drama of a woman of large-scale passions is portrayed concisely and lucidly. Sarah vents her despair at being childless by lashing one leg around, pacing, and whipping her hair in a circle.  In contrast, her handmaiden, young Hagar, whom Sarah gives to her husband, Abraham, to bear him a child, carries her imaginary water jar with chest thrust proudly forward and has a formal ritual-like mating with Abraham.  Only the ending, God’s promise that Isaac, Abraham and Sarah’s belatedly-born son, would father the tribes of Israel, failed to come across in dance terms.  The two women’s roles were especially well filled by Lynn Elliott and Peggy Evans.  Dance Magazine, February 1980.   

A year later when Rick Jacobs, who was then a rabbinic student at HUC-JIR, joined the company and learned the part of Abraham, the ending blessing took on a whole new dimension, as the prayer and actual movement were already deeply meaningful to him, and he performed the section in a uniquely heartfelt way. 

Rick Jacobs as Abraham, 1981.  Photo by Amanda Kreglow
Rick Jacobs and Lynn Elliott in Sarah. Photo by Amanda Kreglow.

Sarah continued to be beautifully performed regularly by the New York company during the next several years with Rick dancing the part of Abraham, and Lynn Elliott dancing the part of Sarah.  For me Sarah was the first of a series of pieces focusing on Biblical women.  And I would revisit Sarah, more than once. 

Print This Post Print This Post

Links to Recent Blogs


An Exciting Outcome From Reworking Choreography

JoAnne Tucker / / Dance Midrash

Reading the description of the piece M’Vakshei Or (Seekers of Light) in publicity material for its first performance in Pittsburgh at Rodef Shalom, it is no surprise that it didn’t work.  We tried to do too much in one piece.  As I kept watching M’Vakshei Or in performance I knew that it wasn’t working the way we wanted it to.  Rick and I decided to rework the piece. Avodah’s fall 1982 Newsletter describes what we did. Instead of five parts, the piece was now three parts: Part 1 – Meditation; Part II – an  improvisation based on the weekly Torah portion; and Part III – Blessing. The first performance in the new format was at a lecture demonstration at the Hillel of the University of Texas in Austin and the second as part of a Friday evening service in Houston.

The Newsletter described:

JoAnne discussed how we create choreography on a Jewish theme. Each of the four dancers demonstrated a movement theme in Part 1 based on Jewish ritual.  The audience then participated in a discussion on the weekly Torah portion and gave suggestions to the dancers for a series of improvisations.  One improvisation was chosen and the work was performed.  Comments afterwards indicated that this approach was quite enlightening in understanding not only M’Vakshei Or but other pieces in the repertory.

Our process was also described in a review a few months later on January 24, 1983 following a concert at Temple Beth-Or in Montgomery:

A portion of the account from Exodus of the Israelites being led out of Egypt by Moses and escaping the Egyptians through the Red Sea was told by Jacobs, after which Dr. Tucker asked the audience to select a scene for the ensemble to dance and also to cast the characters.

One of the improvisational pieces became part of M’Vakshei Or, a dance based on the Torah Service.

The new format worked wonderfully with Rick summarizing a part of the Torah portion so that the congregation or audience had background they needed to become part of the process.  Sometimes Rick shared traditional commentaries on the portion as well as helping to come up with new ones.  As we performed the piece in many different settings over the next few years some of our dance midrash improvisations stand out.   One time in a concert at Hebrew Union College – Jewish Institute of Religion’s Los Angeles campus, one of the professors who knew Rick from his second and third year of rabbinic school at the LA campus insisted that we just be the ROCK that Jacob put his head on when he had the dream of the angels going up and down the ladder (Genesis 28:11).  So we explored in movement the energy that the rock might have had.

Another memorable moment was at a congregation in San Antonio, TX when the week’s Torah portion related to crossing the Red Sea and Rick drew upon a traditional commentary and became Naashon, the person who initiated crossing the Red Sea.  Rick boldly jumped off the bema and into the congregation! 

Rabbi Edwin N. Soslow, (of blessed memory) wrote in his Rabbi’s Message, December 1983 (Temple Emanuel, Cherry Hill, NJ):

The improvisation which members in the congregation suggested on the Torah portion will never be forgotten. Whenever I study or speak about the meaning of the story of Abraham welcoming the three angels with their message about the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah and the birth of Isaac, I will always remember how that message was portrayed in dance.

In addition to the middle section of the piece providing an educational opportunity to introduce the Torah portion of the week, the choreography based on ritual movement in the opening and closing sections gave us another teaching moment.  As I mentioned earlier, each of the four dancers in the piece demonstrated a short phrase based on ritual movement prior to performing the piece. One dancer shared a phrase based on putting on the prayer shawl.  Another dancer demonstrated in movement how the Torah is lifted following the weekly reading and turned so all may see the writing inside.  A third dancer shared how the Torah is carried through the congregation and the fourth dancer shared a phrase of movement based on the letters in God’s name: yod, hay, vav, hay.    

As I reread the comments I’ve shared here and having just watched a very old tape done in rehearsal for reconstruction purposes, I am reminded that editing and revising a piece and paring it down to the basics ended up creating a successful piece that continued in the company for years.  It inspired a book (Torah in Motion: Creating Dance Midrash with Rabbi Susan Freeman).  We were invited to teach in summer institutes. We were guests in Rabbi Norman Cohen’s modern midrash classes at Hebrew Union College – Jewish Institute of Religion.  We led dance midrash classes in religious schools.  We led workshops teaching others how to lead dance midrash based on Torah portions.  

We even adapted the piece for a special event at a congregation.   M’Vakshei Or was done at Westchester Reform Congregation honoring Rick on his 10thanniversary of service in June of 2001. I joined adult congregation members and danced in the opening and closing sections.  Children from the religious school interested in dance did improvisations based on the Torah portion.  The entire confirmation class (16-year olds) enthusiastically engaged in honoring their Rabbi. The following three photos are from the final rehearsal for the Friday night service.

JoAnne with Members of Westchester Reform Temple in M’Vakshei Or.
Young dancers from the Religious School of Westchester Reform Temple.
Part of the Confirmation Class of
Westchester Reform Congregation.

As I am writing this week’s blog I am deeply grateful for the contribution Rick made in collaborating on the creation of M’Vakshei Or.  As I watched the rehearsal video of the piece and then found myself looking at videos of other related repertory I am reminded of the incredibly talented dancers that have shared their gifts with Avodah.  I am so grateful for their contributions both in helping to create the work they performed in and their outstanding performances.  I extend a very deep bow of gratitude to these wonderfully talented individuals!  

Print This Post Print This Post

Recent Blogs

From Dance Midrash Improvisations to Co-Authoring A Book

JoAnne Tucker / / Dance Midrash

In 1986, with Rick no longer guiding us in the improvisational sections of M’Vakshei Or, I knew that I needed to get up to speed in providing leadership in this area.  I found myself studying the weekly Torah portion more seriously, whether we had a performance that week or not. I would also make it a point to attend Saturday morning Torah study groups at Temple Emanuel, the congregation we belonged to in Westfield, NJ where we then lived.  I went as often as I could and found the discussion quite lively and stimulating.  Slowly I began increasing my library of Jewish books.  

I also asked Rabbi Norman Cohen, Professor of Modern Midrash and Dean of Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion if he could meet with the dancers and me and give us some guidelines.  He agreed and we had an excellent private seminar with him where he explained the process he uses in developing Midrash.

About this time I received a letter from A.R.E. (Alternatives in Religious Education) Publishing asking if I was interested in doing a book on the role that dance could play in Jewish education.  While that triggered my imagination a bit I knew I wasn’t ready and didn’t have a real direction on what to do.  I think I wrote back that I was interested but didn’t have any specific ideas at that time.

The company successfully continued performing M’Vakshei Or regularly in Friday evening Reform Sabbath services over the next two years.  Then in the winter of 1988, another rabbinic student, Susan Freeman, joined Avodah and added a new level of enthusiasm to the process of creating dance midrash improvisations.  I shared with Susan that A.R.E. had inquired about my doing a book and I asked if she would she be interested in co-authoring it with me.  Susan had grown up in Denver where A.R.E. was based and in fact her mother was good friends with Audrey Friedman Marcus who along with Rabbi Raymond Zwerin  owned A.R.E.

We got back in touch with Audrey and began to formalize ideas for the book.  The preface of Torah in Motion: Creating Dance Midrash describes how Susan and I “began pushing the improvisations further with the enthusiastic cooperation of Avodah dancers Kezia Gleckman, Deborah Hanna, and Beth Bardin who, in turn, also played an active role in developing ideas from which this book began to take form.”

Together we came up with an outline that could work for each of the different dance midrash exercises in the book.  First we shared the line of text we were exploring, followed by a brief description of its context. Next we provided ways to motivate movement, followed by ways to connect the text to real life experiences.  The instructions for the actual dance midrash followed, and an additional challenge concluded the exercise.  There are a total of 104 lines of text explored.  While some weekly portions have only one lesson, some have three or four.  

Audrey provided guidance with our outline and encouraged us to complete all the lessons before writing the introductory chapter. The introduction was the hardest for us to write and Audrey wonderfully edited for us.  The conclusion of the introduction shared our vision for the book and approach to exploring text:

Dance Midrash is a new and exciting way to approach the Bible.  As movement is merged with the structure and style of Midrash, participants will wrest new meaning from the biblical text.

By drawing on the material in this book, a leader can engage people of every age in an exciting and satisfying process.  Imaginations will be triggered and, in a playful and fun filled manner, participants will discover new insights into the Torah.  It won’t be long before such comments as the following are heard, “I never would have thought about the passage this way unless I danced it!” (Torah in Motion: Creating Dance Midrash, p. xxii)

Rabbi Norman Cohen wrote a meaningful Foreword to the book, explaining the importance of the process of Midrash in finding meaning in the Bible related to contemporary life.  He continued by pointing out that many artistic forms – “writing, music, drama, visual art and dance” – can be and are being used to “bring life to the biblical text in new and creative Midrashic ways.” 

Audrey and Ray knew the importance of photographs for the book and we were given a budget to get photos that showed participants of all ages and levels of dance engaging in different Dance Midrash activities.  We asked Tom Brazil, who had regularly photographed The Avodah Dance Ensemble since 1985, to do the photographs for the book.  In the preface to Torah in Motion: Creating Dance Midrash we thank and acknowledge the help we got with photographing:

Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion and Brooklyn Heights Synagogue provided space for the photographic sessions.  The teachers and students in the preschool, Grade 5, Grade 8 and Senior Adult group from the synagogue contributed their time and energy through their participation in the photography sessions.  Ellen Robbins, an outstanding modern dance teacher, generously entrusted her talented students to us, helping us to illustrate a variety of Dance Midrashim.  Deborah Marcus (no relation to Audrey Friedman Marcus) brought several senior adults to one of the photography sessions.  A special thank you to all of these individuals.

I remember how thrilled I was when I saw the completed book.  The format, photos and overall look were done elegantly by Rabbi Raymond Zwerin and Audrey Friedman Marcus. I am so grateful for the care they took in guiding us through the process of writing it, formatting it and publishing it.  In the next blog I’ll write about a book signing and performance sponsored by A.R.E. at a Jewish education conference, reviews of the book and opportunities that grew out of the book.  While A.R.E. Publishing Company no longer exists, the book is still available as an ebook and here is a link to order it.

The cover of the book.  The photo features Ellen Robbins’ students exploring weaving movements inspired by Exodus 27:16:  “And for the gate of the enclosure[of the Tabernacle], a screen of twenty cubits, of blue, purple, and crimson yarns, and fine twisted linen, done in embroidery.”  Photo by Tom Brazil.
Avodah Company members (l-r) Deborah Hanna, Susan Freeman (co-author) and
 Kezia Gleckman exploring Genesis 22:1, 22:7 and 22:11 as 
Abraham said, “Here I am.” Photo by Tom Brazil.
Susan Freeman leading a group of 5thgraders from Brooklyn Heights Synagogue exploring Genesis 12:1 when God said to Abram, “Go forth from your native land…”
Photo by Tom Brazil.
JoAnne and Susan, co-authors of Torah in Motion: Creating Dance Midrash, had a chance to catch up in person, December 1, 2018. 
Print This Post Print This Post

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
Print This Post Print This Post

How Binding Evolved Over Time, and a Fun Casting Story

JoAnne Tucker / / Dance Midrash, New York Company

It was very insightful to view three videos of Binding and see how the piece evolved from its first performance in 1989.  The premiere performance that I wrote about in last week’s blog featured two guest performers integrated into the piece.  Cantor Mark Childs and Rabbi Norman Cohen were an important part of the performance.  Mark sang, narrated and was part of the stage action.  Norman also narrated and participated onstage.  In a video of a performance done five years later with Cantor Bruce Ruben, he was very visible but never interacted directly with the dancers.  The choreography of the dancers remained basically the same.  As with the first performance the dancers gave strong and dramatic performances.

For me, in all three videos the strongest moment in the piece is when one of the dancers who has been associated with the character of Sarah dramatically screams “No” instead of “Hineni” (“Here I am”). 

This occurs after the following narration:

And Abraham picked up the knife to slay his son.  Then an angel of the Lord called to him from heaven: ‘Abraham! Abraham!’ and he answered…

Three dancers respond with the traditional “Hineni.” The fourth dancer, her arms held as if cradling a child, screams “No!”

Carla Norwood Armstrong, in writing an Avodah memory, remembered that during a rehearsal of Binding, “when I let out the scream a security guard came running into the room to make sure that we were okay.”

In the third video,  the dancers handled the whole piece, while I played thetriangle and the drum at appropriate places.  I remember a particularly strong rehearsal when I had just added much more for the dancers to do, and one of the dancers, Tanya Alexander, made me stop and think to myself, “Wow she is a strong actress.” It wasn’t just the scream… it was the whole way she was developing her character and making the lines she was saying so believable.

I told Tanya about my call and asked her if she wanted to read for Julie that afternoon.  Of course she said she did.  We continued rehearsing without Tanya and a little while later I got a call from Julie asking if I would mind if Tanya missed rehearsal the next day, as Julie wanted to cast her.  I agreed.  

At that time my daughter Julie was casting the show Law and Order: Special Victims Unit. At a break in rehearsal I impulsively picked up my cell phone and called her.  I mentioned that one of the dancers was a particularly strong actress.  Julie asked me a few questions about her and I described Tanya to her.  Julie said she was actually looking for an actor for a young single mom role that might be just right for Tanya.  The next thing out of her mouth was a request that I send Tanya over to read for her.  

Tanya and I used to laugh about the fact that her actor friends were surprised that she had gotten that part on Law and Order: Special Victims Unit because she had been in a modern dance company directed by the mother of the casting director.  

While I don’t have a photo of Tanya in Binding I do have this photo of her in Kaddish in a performance at Smith College taken by a student in 2000.
Print This Post Print This Post

Leading Dance Midrash Workshops in Israel

JoAnne Tucker / / Dance Midrash, Dances on Biblical Women, Movement Workshops, Touring

This was not my first trip to Israel.  For my 50th birthday Murray and I traveled to Israel, staying first with friends at Kibbutz Lotan located in the South and then taking a small minivan tour of the country for about a week. While it was a very positive experience and I especially liked Tel Aviv and have vivid memories of watching large groups of people gathering by the beach to folk dance on Shabbat, I did find not myself in a hurry to return.  As I flew into Israel on Friday morning to begin this nine-day trip with five workshops scheduled I wondered how my work would be received particularly among traditional orthodox Jewish participants. The five workshops were scheduled throughout the country and I had no idea who the attendees would be.

I am very glad to have written about the trip, shortly after it happened, in an Avodah Newsletter, and the majority of this blog comes from the newsletter.  As was my regular practice when leading dance midrash workshops, they were always based on that week’s Torah portion and I had a particularly rich and easy one to work with.  I decided to focus on two specific lines in the portion “Lech Lecha”:  Genesis 12:1, “The Lord said to Abram, ”Go forth from your native land and from your father’s house to the land that I will show you,” and Genesis 16: 1-16 where Hagar bears a child for Sarah.  

Arriving in Israel on Friday I would have Saturday to spend with friends who offered a place to stay where they lived on Kibbutz Tzora.  They had originally lived at Kibbutz Lotan, where Murray and I had visited them six years ago.  Now, along with two adorable twins, they lived on Kibbutz Tzora which had a much more urban feeling than Lotan.  I was also able to use time to review the Torah portion I would be working with.  Even though I had worked with many Torah portions many times I often found new insight depending on my life events and world happenings.  This particular week I decided to address the question of what quality in Abram triggered God to select him to “go forth.”

For the section on Sarah and Hagar, I decided to find moments of interaction between them that are not described in text, such as what Sarah might have said to Hagar to convince her to bear a child for her, or what Hagar might have said to Sarah when Hagar knew she was pregnant. In other words, I wanted to make the relationship very real between these two women. 

All five workshops were built from these two scenarios, and each workshop had the same outline: movement warm-up, introduction of ritual movement (i.e. movement already existing in our tradition, such as putting on a tallit or bending and bowing), exploration of text in movement, questions, and feedback.  Each workshop took on its own character and emphasis based on the participants, and there was a huge range!

As I reviewed my write-up in the Avodah Newsletter I noted that I only mentioned four workshops. Actually a fifth one stands out in my mind and I hunch that I decided not to write about it for the newsletter.  For this blog I will just share one very strong memory of that workshop (the first), which I led in Jerusalem. I remember my friends driving to and from the location, and that I felt a huge relief to be leaving Jerusalem, as I felt the energy from both the workshop and in the streets to have been somewhat frantic!! 

While each workshop had the same outline, each one definitely had its own character and emphasis based on the participants.  The second workshop, in Tel Aviv, like the one in Jerusalem, was attended by all non-dancers and thus my main job was in motivating movement and leading the group to be comfortable with movement as a way to explore text.  

The third workshop was in the city of Beit She’an which is located in the northern part of Israel in the Jordan Valley. It was held in a beautiful dance studio, part of the region’s cultural center, and had the highest level of dance participants, with several professional dancers and advanced dance students.  I also seem to remember this was the home community of Elisabeth, the person who had visited my dance midrash class in New York City and arranged for me to come. A single sentence was enough to motivate rich movement, and sophisticated improvisational dance challenges quickly became an important part of this workshop.  A particularly memorable improvisation occurred on the letters in God’s name (yud, hay, vav, hay).  I taught a simple movement phrase based on a meditation related to these letters and then asked the participants each to think about her own God image and to incorporate that in her improvisation.  The intensity in the room was incredible and while I was dancing with the group I sensed an extraordinary energy happening, with amazing movement interactions taking place in my own improvising.  One person had chosen to observe and was mesmerized by what she saw.  Not surprisingly, in the feedback section, this exercise was commented on the most.  From an orthodox woman came the statement that she was apprehensive when asked to do this activity but found it profound.  A secular woman also shared the same reaction – an initial reluctance to dance the letters in God’s name, but then a discovery of great meaning to the exercise.  I felt a certain affirmation in having been able to provide such an experience for women coming from such different backgrounds.

From there I traveled to Yeroham which is in the Southern District – Negev Desert.  The workshop was held in the Bamidbar Creative Beit Midrash which had been built in 1990 following the assassination of Prime Minister Rabin, and which serves the local community as well as visitors.  It is also an unusual space in that it has served as a bomb shelter.  Put to happier use, all the furniture had been removed for our dance workshop, and there was also an art exhibit by oil painter Anna Andersch-Marcus, a world-renowned artist living in Yeroham.  This was the only time my teaching in English created a few moments of tension, when some debate arose about how to translate what I said.  Luckily several bilingual participants were able to assure the group that the differences were insignificant to the assignment, and the 15 women ranging in background from secular to traditional worked together sharing nonverbally our interpretations of biblical text.

My own improvisations that day were influenced by the fact that we were near a site called Hagar’s Well and I was reminded of the challenges that the environment presents.  It made a big difference in my own movement to keep the harshness of the desert landscape in mind as I danced interactions between Sarah and Hagar.

The final workshop was at Kibbutz Lotan.  The Kibbutz was further south located in the heart of the desert about 40 minutes north of Elat which is on the Red Sea.  I had very pleasant memories of the Kibbutz from my earlier trip to Israel.  The reform Kibbutz had developed further with bird-watching trails, sand dunes and the intimacy of a small lush Kibbutz surrounded by the barren desert mountains.  I thoroughly enjoyed being there and even discussed with the leadership of the Kibbutz the possibility of doing an intensive five-day workshop to train dance midrash specialists as well as individuals who just wanted to explore text through dance stimulated by the beautiful desert environment and guest facilities of the Kibbutz.  I never put much energy into organizing it and so it never happened.  Being at Kibbutz Lotan was a wonderful way to end a very full nine days and return to Italy to continue getting ready for our October 31 concert.

The only picture I could find that I took on this trip to Israel. Clearly I was fascinated by the harsh environment of the desert!

Print This Post Print This Post

Can you go home again?

JoAnne Tucker / / dance liturgy, Dance Midrash, Personal Life

That is the question coming to mind for me right now.  By “home,” I mean my spiritual home.  There have been times in my life when I have experienced transcendence, by which I mean losing my sense of self, and becoming one with the moment and people I am interacting with, so that the moment exceeds the ordinary.

This has happened to me when I have been dancing or improvising, mainly dancing as part of liturgy or in an improvisation based on a Torah portion.  And it hasn’t happened very often.  It has also occasionally happened with a simple improvisational exercise like mirroring when the person whom I am partnering and I become one.

When I was performing, it happened only after I really knew the choreography so well that I didn’t need to think about the movement or the space I was in.  I remember a performance one Sunday morning at Rodef Shalom in Pittsburgh where I had been coached by a good friend and fellow dancer, Lynne Wimmer.  We were to be part of the morning service, integrating our piece of In Praise into the liturgy.  I had a short solo, following the silent prayer, to the liturgy “May the Words of my Mouth.”  Lynne had coached me to fully use my hands in each movement phrase and as I reached out in a circle to the congregation.  This was an opportunity to take everyone in and reach to the back row. That morning my performance transcended how I usually did the piece, and at the same moment, the sun poured in through the stained glass windows.

As director of the company, I often saw when a dancer knew a particular solo or piece of choreography so well that they became one with the moment.  That was a joy to watch, and I felt my energy totally with them.

On one occasion, the transcendence happened when I was leading a Doctor of Ministry Class at Hebrew Union College and we were dancing a line of text from the Torah.  I don’t remember the line of text, and in a way it wasn’t important. It was the second class of a 12-week course, and I had decided to introduce the group to improvisational movement. None of the participants were dancers.  They were rabbis and ministers, open to experiencing something new but not totally sure about dance.  We began and continued for about 20 minutes without saying anything, sometimes moving alone, sometimes with one other person or with three or four people.  There was no music.  We were focused and intent on interpreting the line of text and interacting with each other.  At some point which seemed right, I said, “Let’s bring it to a close.” We did, and then quietly sat down.  No one spoke for a long time.  I didn’t want to break the silence.  We all knew we had become a total group together and that a spiritual experience had been had by all.  Slowly people began to express their feelings. I finally ended by saying that in the second class they had gone beyond my purpose in teaching the entire course.

As time progressed, as director of the dance company which was very much rooted in the Jewish tradition, I found that my original reasons for starting the company were fading.  My first reason had been that the prayers (particularly in the English translation) were difficult for me. I knew that they had been around for a long time and felt that maybe if I studied them and used dance to interpret them, I would find their meaning. In a way that did happen in the creative process when I and whomever I was collaborating with brought ourselves to the prayer. And some of the songs that had been written for the prayers stimulated and inspired movement.  Not understanding Hebrew was a plus. The original language seemed to fit the prayer, but for me, when the prayer was translated into English, that was where I had a problem and definitely still do.

The other main reason for starting the company had been to see if I could find the woman’s voice, particularly in the Torah. So for years I did what in the Jewish tradition is called creating “midrash.”

Midrash is an interpretive act, seeking the answers to religious questions (both practical and theological by plumbing the meaning of Torah……Midrash responds to contemporary problems and crafts new stories, making connections between new Jewish realities and the unchanging biblical text.  https://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/midrash-101/

I explored text, using dance to create midrash, seeking the woman’s voice in that text.  While it was great fun exploring in this way, and eventually co-authoring a book called Torah in Motion: Creating Dance Midrash, I began to feel more and more disappointed and discouraged to realize how patriarchal the Torah and prayers were, and I wasn’t satisfied with just adding a female biblical name to a prayer or creating a midrash on Sarah.  I learned from a rabbi friend of mine that in the 1970’s when the women’s movement in religion began in earnest, some women explored midrash and others found they needed a whole new study.  I realized I was now at the point of needing a new story.

When 9/11 happened in NYC, I lived just across the river, and the towers were part of my neighborhood. I was deeply affected by the event.  A few weeks later a friend took me to hear Thich Nhat Hanh at Riverside Church.  I was fascinated.  Here was a different way to look at your enemies.  During the fall, Sharon Saltzman, Joseph Goldstein and Sylvia Boorstein all offered workshops in NYC.  I liked what I was hearing and began a meditation practice.  I also liked the emphasis of sending wishes of kindness to all people – whether your family, or the person you have the most difficulty with– or as Thich Nhat Hahn would say, “giving your enemy a gift.”  It became increasingly hard for me to say the prayer for peace in Israel as there was no extension to wish for peace for all (non-terrorist) people.  I continue to be troubled by this.  Yes, I very much want peace in Israel and will pray for it; however I also will pray for peace for the Palestinians.  Real peace will only happen when both have peace and neither one has been conquered.

For nearly twenty years I have thought of myself as a BuJew (Buddhist/Jew).  I went regularly to dharma talks and often weekend retreats at Upaya Zen Center in Santa Fe.  I continued my meditation practice. During COVID I even increased my meditative practice, thrilled with all that was available online, especially at Upaya.  I was fascinated with The Hidden Lamp, “a collection of one hundred koans and stories of Buddhist women from the time of Buddha to the present day.”

This revolutionary book brings together many teaching stories that were hidden for centuries, unknown until this volume. These stories are extraordinary expressions of freedom and fearlessness, relevant for men and women of any time or place. In these pages we meet nuns, laywomen practicing with their families, famous teachers honored by emperors, and old women selling tea on the side of the road.

Each story is accompanied by a reflection by a contemporary woman teacher—personal responses that help bring the old stories alive for readers today—and concluded by a final meditation for the reader, a question from the editors meant to spark further rumination and inquiry.  https://wisdomexperience.org/product/hidden-lamp/

I even began attending special workshops led by Sensei Zenshin Florence Caplow, happening nine or ten times a year, that looked at a different story each time and then encouraged us to write, based on key words that stood out to us.  I did that for two years, and then one time while doing it I had an aha moment:  in a way, I was doing midrash on another patriarchal religion.

I felt sad and a bit lost again.  This was not my story either.  I continued my meditation practice but I found myself less motivated to attend dharma talks.  I still held onto much of the philosophy of loving kindness, mindfulness, and offering prayer to all people.

Then this High Holiday season, I streamed services from Central Synagogue in NYC.  I had streamed them before and liked them.  This year was different.  I had lost over 30 lbs.  and could move/dance again and so I found myself inspired by quite a few of the traditional melodies like Hashivenu and V’al Kulam.  These were prayers I had previously choreographed, and since I was at home alone, I got up and danced.  A feeling I hadn’t experienced for years returned.  A spiritual high.  Central’s service is filled with the most amazing music.  Led by Angela Buchdahl, who is ordained as both a rabbi and a cantor, the services incorporate an outstanding selection of music, and even if I still have problems with the prayers in English, the music takes me to a spiritual place I haven’t been for a long time.  The sermons by all Central’s rabbis are thoughtful, and the congregation is involved in social action – even a prison project.

During COVID, Central Synagogue streamed and was excellent at building a large online following.  They then formalized the online streaming with a program they call The Neighborhood (I thought of Mr. Rogers and his neighborhood when I first heard its name), where people can join and participate in additional programs via Zoom.  I surprised myself and joined right after the Yom Kippur service.  So, the question I opened with… can one go home again?  I think so, with a new awareness.  My thoughts are I am the person who brings mindfulness and meditation from a twenty-plus-year regular practice, to find transcendence in dance by becoming the prayer or text rooted in my Jewish tradition.

Print This Post Print This Post