Tag: JoAnne Tucker

Remembering Rabbi Dr. Walter Jacob (March 13, 1930 – October 20, 2024)

JoAnne Tucker / / Avodah's Early History, Personal Life

On October 22, I streamed the funeral service of Dr. Walter Jacob. My cousin Maxine, who knows what an important person Rabbi Jacob was to me and my family, shared a notice that had gone out to congregants with a zoom link.  Tears often steamed down my face as I heard rabbis he had mentored, and his family members, share the important role he had played in their lives.  They pointed out that Dr. Jacob was a unique rabbi, combining outstanding scholarship with compassionate pastoral care.  He encouraged others in simple, direct ways.  As I write this, I am filled with many memories of how he helped me to find my path as choreographer/director of The Avodah Dance Ensemble.  He also was very much our family rabbi.

Photo provided by Rodef Shalom

“It’s OK if the new piece doesn’t work.  Sometimes we fail.”  Dr. Walter Jacob shared these words with me many years ago as we walked through the beautiful garden at his house a few days before we were due to premiere a new piece at Rodef Shalom as part of the service. It would be the third time The Avodah Dance Ensemble performed at Rodef Shalom. I expressed concern that I thought we were trying to do too much in the new piece.  I don’t remember exactly what he said next, but it was something about how we learn from all of our experiences.  Wise words that helped to guide me through the years.

I attended Rodef Shalom from the time I entered kindergarten until confirmation at age 16. Dr. Jacob was named Assistant Rabbi following his graduation from Hebrew Union College in 1955, and he remained at the congregation, except for the two years when he served as a US Airforce Chaplain in the Philippines.  He became Senior Rabbi in 1966 and served in that position until his retirement in 1996 when he was named Rabbi Emeritus and Senior Scholar.  My first contact with Rabbi Jacob was probably shortly after he returned from the Philippines.  I was 14 and participating in the youth group. As he was guiding us in planning a Havdalah Service I must have mentioned my interest in dance, because he encouraged me, along with another member of the youth group (Suzan Fischer), to create a dance for this sweet service which marks the ending of Shabbat.

I don’t remember what the dance was like, but I do know that experience planted the seed that would later lead me to create and direct the Avodah Dance Ensemble.  For the next 35 years, Dr. Jacob (Walter, as I grew to call him as an adult) would play important roles in my family’s life and in my professional dance life.

In a blog published on October 12, 2018, I described the  performance of In Praise at Rodef Shalom in 1974.  Its first performance had been as part of the dedication service of Temple Israel in Tallahassee, where we lived at the time. On a family visit to Pittsburgh shortly after the Tallahassee performance, my husband and I visited Walter.  When I shared information about In Praise, Walter suggested doing it at Rodef Shalom.   The performance on Sunday morning, January 27, 1974, stands out as a peak experience and turning point in my life and in the development of The Avodah Dance Ensemble.  It became clear to me how I would use my dance talent.  Walter helped to reinforce that, not only by inviting us to perform In Praise as part of the service, but by welcoming Irving  Fleet (the composer) and me to stand with the clergy in a receiving line.  The feedback, while overwhelming, was inspiring.  I don’t know how many people came through the line, but it was a lot.  (The synagogue seats 900 people on the main floor with a balcony for 300 more, and the downstairs was particularly full due to some excellent publicity in the days before the performance.) Then an amazing column by Milton Susman in The Jewish Chronicle closed by expressing gratitude to Dr. Walter Jacob, “for surrendering his pulpit to a happening that was couched in velvet.”

Lynne Wimmer and JoAnne Tucker on the bema, in front of the ark at Rodef Shalom.
Photo by Morris Berman for the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette (1974).

A letter from Walter, after the event, reinforced the impact the piece had, and soon Irving Fleet and I were working on a new piece.  As the repertory grew over the next two years, it became clear to me that running a Jewish liturgical dance company from Tallahassee, FL was not ideal, and I began thinking of a New York City-based company.  When I shared that idea with Walter, he offered to reach out to Hebrew Union College – Jewish Institute of Religion in New York City to see what relationship we might have with the college.  The result of his opening the door in 1976 was a long-running relationship for me with HUC-JIR, through 2004. The company performed in the chapel, first on 68th street and then quite regularly at 1 West 4th Street where HUC-JIR is now.  The company was often invited to perform or teach a workshop in a rabbinic class.  Later I taught in the Doctor of Divinity Program.  All of this was made possible by Walter’s initial contact with Dr. Paul Steinberg, the Dean of the New York campus in 1976.

Walter was a board member of Avodah from the very beginning.  He wonderfully encouraged Vigdor Kavalier, Executive Director of Rodef Shalom at the time, to also become a Board Member. Vigdor had a passion for dance and regularly attended New York City Ballet performances at Lincoln Center, flying in from Pittsburgh for a dance-filled weekend.

On a personal note, Walter married my husband and me.  As a couple we kept in contact with Walter whenever we traveled to Pittsburgh and loved visiting first the garden in his home and then later the Biblical Garden.  When I lost a sister to suicide and none of my immediate family was in Pittsburgh that particular day, my Mom’s secretary called Rodef Shalom and Walter simply came and sat with my Mom until a family member could be with her.  My Mom worked in special education and had worked with Walter and Irene with their daughter Claire. Our daughter Rachel’s Bat Mitzvah was at Rodef Shalom.  Although she studied with our rabbi in Tallahassee, due to family illness we moved the actual ceremony to Pittsburgh at Rodef Shalom with Walter officiating, so an important family member who lived in Pittsburgh could be part of the event.  The depth of Walter’s quiet compassion and presence was indeed a gift to our family and to those of us at Rodef Shalom. For that I am deeply grateful.

This recent post in the CCAR newsletter remembers Walter’s role as a leader of the rabbinic community, a scholar, and a compassionate family rabbi.

As the years passed, I began to be aware of Walter’s outstanding scholarship and his vision to develop a rabbinic school in Germany.  An article in Wikipedia is a resource to learn more about Walter, as is his obituary in the Pittsburgh Post Gazette.

Thank you, Maxine, for letting me know of Walter’s death.  That it happened during Succot, the harvest holiday, provided a meaningful background so fitting for Walter, who loved nature and gardening.  His memory is indeed a blessing, and will continue to be a blessing, for many of us whose lives he touched.

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Thoughts After Seeing Sweet Mambo: An Informal Review

JoAnne Tucker / / Current Dance Events, Personal Life

During dinner with Ernesta and Andra in Paris, I asked them for suggestions to help me watch that evening’s performance of Pina Bausch’s Sweet Mambo. Years ago, I had seen the Pina Bausch company at Brooklyn Academy of Music, and while I had found the piece interesting and some of the movement exciting to watch, overall I was puzzled by it.  I welcomed some guidance on how to view the night’s performance.

They suggested I view it as a series of vignettes where the performer is sharing a moment of importance to him/her/them.  The piece premiered in 2008, and six of the original cast members would be among the nine current performers.  It was also pointed out to me that the six original cast members had been working with Pina for a number of years.  Some quick math and I realized I would be seeing mature performers, some possibly in their 50’s or 60’s.  They also had helped in the creation of the piece by improvising, with Pina drawing the choreography from their improvisations.

Having some of this background information was very helpful.  When Ernesta picked up our tickets for the evening, we were all very pleased to be third row center.  As I sank into the chair, I felt an excitement that I had often had in New York City when going to a dance event or Broadway show.  With great seats (I wouldn’t have to shift around to see), and knowing that I would be seeing accomplished performers, I was ready!

The piece opened with an elegant performer, Naomi Brito, holding a Tibetan singing bowl and gently circling the rim with a mallet, making a rich singing song that called us to attention.  As someone who likes to meditate and responds well to such sounds, it immediately brought my full concentration to the stage and the moment.  When Naomi began to move, I was in awe of her beautiful lines and the way she filled the stage with grace and strength at the same time. Watching the power of her movement sent chills down my body!  While Naomi was not a member of the original cast, Andra shared that she very much captured the quality of the dancer who had created the part.

As the piece progressed, I was impressed with how technically strong the six original cast members were.  Their years of seasoned performing captured the audience and immediately brought us into the vignette they were dancing.  Sometimes the women spoke and sang, and while it was in French and I do not have any experience speaking French, it didn’t matter as their intent and focus were so strong I stayed intrigued with the action.

The first half introduced the characters; the mood was light, teasing and playful between the men and women, with the women clearly having the upper hand.  Toward the end of the first half the feeling changed.  One of the original cast members, Julie Shanahan, threw herself over and over to be caught by two men, while lightning was projected onto the white fabric background!  It was intense and powerful and a good example of the strength of the diagonal line.  It was followed by another dancer, Julie Anne Stanzak, being led by different men in a repeated circle.

Following the intermission, the second half showed a darker side of each of the women characters, and in this section each of the men had a solo.  For me the piece was a powerful statement of relationships, with the women ultimately being in charge – truly a feminist piece.

The set and lighting were elegant and simple.  Fabric was used in different ways.  Film and images were often projected on back panels, which were also used for entrances and exits.  At one point, a cloud-like, billowing fabric served as a backdrop and then also provided a poignant moment for Naomi to dance inside it, creating an eerie solo. At another time, panels were flown in at different places on the stage and used in different ways.  Among the most striking such use was when the three men were behind the panels, and the three women sat on them like couches and were rocked.

As I walked back to my hotel room, I felt very grateful to have had the opportunity to see a powerful concert performed by a very gifted company.  Thank you Ernesta for making it possible, and Andra for your insight, and bravo to Tanztheater Wuppertal Pina Bausch.

Photo of the program cover

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Episode 33: The Universal Dancer Podcast – I’m Interviewed by Leslie Zehr

JoAnne Tucker / / Avodah's Early History, Childhood, Dance in Film, Dance Programs in Prison, Movement Workshops, Personal Life, Uncategorized

Leslie Zehr is a wonderful host and interviewer, and even though this was my first podcast, she immediately put me at ease. We had a delightful, fun conversation where I was able to share my journey from dancing as a toddler while my grandmother played the piano, through my dance education at the Graham Studio and The Juilliard School, to the creation of the Avodah Dance Ensemble.  Her questions enabled me to discuss the transformative power of dance, as we explored how dance is a method of empowerment and healing in women’s correctional institutions, and how it led to filmmaking and in particular the film Through the Door: Movement and Meditation as Part of Healing with domestic violence survivors.

Each month since January 31, 2021, Leslie has produced a different Podcast, all designed to inspire “a community of like-minded souls seeking to understand the cosmic dance of co-creation through the sacred arts.”   She wants to expand minds, ignite creativity and explore something new and something old.

Leslie is a sacred arts teacher, workshop leader, mentor and author of two books, The Alchemy of Dance and The Al-chemia Remedies.  While she was born in Peru and educated in the United States, she lives in Egypt, where for more than 30 years she has supported women “to reconnect to the Divine Feminine within through the mysteries of ancient Egypt.”

The Podcast series covers a range of subjects. Some examples are: Let Your Yoga Dance; Sacred Self Care Chakradance; A Roundtable Discussion of the Importance of Movement and Dance in Children’s Lives; and Japanese Butoh.

While the Podcast is not done live, Leslie does no editing, so I knew that I had to be as clear and focused as I could be.  When the interview was over, we had a few minutes to check in about how it went.  I expressed my gratitude to Leslie for her warmth, and we both agreed we had fun sharing together.  The interview is available to listen to as a podcast and to watch on YouTube.

Link to Podcast Platforms:

https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/leslie-zehr/episodes/JoAnne-Tucker–Author-of-Torah-in-Motion-Creating-Dance-Midrash-and-the-Mostly-Dance-Blog-e2cdonl

Link to YouTube: https://youtube.com/live/7KP8B3mATwU

Screenshot from YouTube. I like this moment because you can see we are both having fun!

 

 

 

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.

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Chopping in the Kitchen

JoAnne Tucker / / Costa Rica, Personal Life

If you are a regular reader of this blog, you might have noticed that I haven’t been writing as much as usual. The last two blogs were a review of a book, and they took a lot longer to write than other blogs.  The second reason is that I have been doing a lot of dancing in the kitchen!  Chopping, sauteing, spinning around and chopping some more.  The chopping seems to go on and on forever.  The reason behind this is I am now eating a totally plant-based diet.

Here are some bowls of chopped veggies and beans ready for an eggplant recipe.

In March I noticed some swelling in my ankles, and I decided to do some research on the best way to eat in order to keep my health good and strong.  Everything I read led me to a vegan way of eating.  I did that for about a month with some help from an English-speaking general nutritionist here in Costa Rica, who had only some idea of what a good vegan diet is. I decided to get my blood tested.  I wasn’t pleased with the results and soon began to realize I was eating too many processed vegan products. So I searched for a doctor either here in Costa Rica or online who could help me with the proper way to go on a vegan diet.

Much to my delight I found an excellent doctor, Dr. Miranda Graham, who calls herself a VeganMD and lives less than an hour from my house.  I have learned so much from her.  My first visit was in person.  She suggested using Cronometer, which is a website for a computer (or there is an app for the phone).  I am under her account, where I log in, and she monitors what I am eating and makes suggestions. There is a free version one can use on their own.  It has been very helpful.  For example, I love it when she says my Vitamin A is too low, so make sure I add some carrots to my daily diet.  I am now at the point where I can look at my food page and see the kind of foods I need to add in my diet for dinner to make sure I am getting all the nutrients that I need for the day.

The result is that my blood work has improved, I have more energy and I weigh less.  I don’t think of this as a diet.  Rather I think of this as my new lifestyle.  I am enjoying finding new recipes and trying different foods.  There are so many wonderful resources on the Internet.  My favorites are https://foodrevolution.org,  https://www.drfuhrman.com, and https://www.forksoverknives.com.

Living in Costa Rica makes plant based eating easy, as there are always lots of fresh fruits and vegetables available.  Each Thursday I enjoy going to the Feria (Farmer’s Market), and as a regular, I always get a friendly greeting from the various vendors.

Shopping at the Feria del Agricultor de Atenas. Photo by Manrique
Here I am, with energy and a slimmer look, leading some guests on a walk on the labyrinth. Photo by Ed Needham

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First Visit to Jacob’s Pillow in 1956 and Virtual Visit 2023

JoAnne Tucker / / Current Dance Events, Dance History, Personal Life

Some memories stay vividly with you even after 67 years. The memory of my first visit to Jacob’s Pillow in 1956 is such a memory.

I was attending Belgian Village Camp located in Cummington, MA.  While I was only thirteen, a close friend of my Mom’s knew of my strong interest in teaching dance.   She had a good friend who ran the camp and contacted her, sharing my interest.  I was given a scholarship with the understanding that I would teach the younger kids dance.  I was thrilled.

It was a wonderful summer and I thoroughly enjoyed teaching the young girls creative movement, much as I had learned from my teacher Genevieve Jones. And the highlight was when a group of us was taken to Jacob’s Pillow for an afternoon performance.

In a rustic theatre, the performance began with Ted Shawn introducing himself to us and telling us about Jacob’s Pillow.  I don’t remember his exact words, but my thirteen-year-old self knew he was a very important person and spoke to us in a very dignified manner.

Later I would learn just how important a figure he was in the creation of American modern dance.  A New York Times article written by Clive Barnes shortly after his death gives good insight into his role:

THE death of Ted Shawn shortly after his 80th birthday brings to an end a whole era in American dance. Shawn, together with his wife, the late Ruth St. Denis, was largely responsible for the creation of American modern‐dance.

It was in 1915 that Shawn and his wife started the original Denishawn School in Los Angeles, and from this school emerged the first generation of American modern dancers, Martha Graham, Doris Humphrey and Charles Weidman. These were the new pioneers of American modern‐dance, and Shawn was their spiritual father.   https://www.nytimes.com/1972/01/16/archives/ted-shawn-18911972.html

The current Jacob’s Pillow website points out that in 1930 Shawn purchased a “rundown farm in the Berkshires known as Jacob’s Pillow … and that laid the groundwork for both his revolutionary company of men dancers and America’s oldest dance festival.”

On YouTube you can watch a piece of his company of men performing

When our camp visited the Pillow, Shawn said the performance that day would let us see three different kinds of dance: modern, ethnic and ballet. I do not remember the modern or ethnic dance performances at all, but having the opportunity to see Alicia Markova dance “The Dying Swan” was breathtaking.

Markova was 46 when I saw her perform, and the emotion and delicacy that she exhibited, especially in her arms, stood out.  She had begun performing when she was just 14, discovered by Diaghilev.  After her time with the Ballet Russes she moved to London and danced with the Sadler Wells Ballet Company and was noted for her partnership with Anton Dolin.  On YouTube you can find excerpts of her dancing The Dying Swan and also Giselle with Anton Dolin as her partner.

Link to The Dying Swan

Link to Giselle 

The summer at Belgian Village opened my eyes to new possibilities ahead and I am grateful that I had the opportunity to begin exploring my teaching abilities and to visit Jacob’s Pillow.

                   Age 13 at Belgian Village Camp

Now living in Costa Rica, I don’t get many opportunities to see dance, so I am very glad that Jacob’s Pillow is now making so much available online.  Some videos and films are free and that includes the short films that are a part of Inside the Pillow Lab and some longer films that are part of Pillow Talk.  It is a great resource both for gaining a historical perspective and for knowing what is happening now.  For example, one film of historical note in Pillow Talk is “Ann Hutchinson Guest: A Century +”:

Celebrating the life of dance notation pioneer Ann Hutchinson Guest (1918-2022), her legacy and deep Pillow roots are explored by friends, family, and fans including Norton  Owen, Michael Richter, Tina Curran, and Melanie Dana, with many video clips of Guest herself.  (1:00:37)

The Pillow Lab videos are short interviews with choreographers, about the work they created while at Jacob’s Pillow.  While they are talking, we see dancers moving with phrases from the developing piece.  The videos are short and informative with a diverse group of choreographers.

There is also a pay-for-events section where one can select films of past performances at Jacob’s Pillow.   Currently streaming now and available for a fee of $15 is the Limon Dance Company which is currently celebrating its 75th anniversary.  It was added on January 9th and will be available until February 19th.  Once you pay you may watch the performance as many times as you like.   Also available are pre- and post-show talks related to the performance, and these are free.

So even if you can’t make an in-person trip to the Pillow, you have lots of options to watch, many for free and some costing $15.

If you have studied at Jacob’s Pillow, performed there or attended a memorable performance, I invite you to add a comment — or better yet, to contact me to do a guest post about your experience.

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Dance and Poetry: An Elegy for Helen Tamiris

JoAnne Tucker / / Dance History, Perry-Mansfield, Personal Life, Poetry, Uncategorized

Recently I signed up for an Introduction to Poetry class.  Several things motivated me.  We had begun a writer’s group where I live, and I thought I would like to share poems. I have loved poetry since I was a teenager, and I have choreographed many pieces to poems.

In our very first class the teacher introduced us to the form of elegy and used Walt Whitman’s O Captain! My Captain! as an example. After going over the format and purpose of the elegy, he asked us to write one. As I reread O Captain! My Captain! I began reflecting on the experience of being in Helen Tamiris’s Dance for Walt Whitman at Perry-Mansfield during the summer of 1958.   That was a defining experience in helping me realize that I wanted a career in dance, and it had provided an excellent example of how poetry can inspire a piece of choreography.

When I look back over my career as a choreographer, I realize how often I turned to poetry as the stimulus for movement.  That idea had been introduced to me by Helen Tamiris, so it was no surprise that I decided to do my elegy for her and to use the structure and rhyming pattern of O Captain! My Captain! as my model.

Elegy for Helen Tamiris

By JoAnne Tucker

A frayed program, carefully saved, recalls long ago days

There is still time to remember and sing your praise

You stood, arms outstretched, framed by aspen gently swaying

Directions given, challenges accepted, our energy outpouring,

            Alas, a google search

            Your name barely marked

            Too many years have passed

            Still a desire remains in my heart.

Those of us, hold tightly onto each other,

Make a chain, rock endlessly, calling the primal mother

We cannot forget, your teaching remains within us living

We have gone forth, as a curious child goes exploring.

            Tamiris, O Tamiris

            Fifty years since you departed

            Your legacy begins to fade

            Memories linger in my heart.

A legacy of movement and poetry continues still,

New writers and dancers passionate with strong will.

So this old crone will continue to sing your praise

Encourage, mentor and celebrate all my days

            To dance to the spoken verse

            To follow your pioneer art

            Words carefully written

            Danced from the heart

Helen Tamiris at Perry-Mansfield, July 1958. Photo taken by JoAnne Tucker.

The first set of poems I choreographed was for a school program in Pittsburgh shortly after leaving Juilliard. The dancers were six high school students, and the program toured several elementary schools and won a Carnegie Award.  Later I would continue to turn to poetry with the Avodah Dance Ensemble, and during my thirty years as Artist Director of that company, I  created dances to a variety of different poems. The ones that stand out the most in my memory are:

  • I Never Saw Another Butterfly, using poems written by children in the Terezin Concentration Camp
  • Shema, incorporating poetry of Italian Holocaust survivor Primo Levi
  • Let My People Go, based on James Weldon Johnson’s poem of the same title
  • In the Garden, drawn from several poems in the collection Wine, Women and Death: Medieval Hebrew Poems on the Good Life, translated by Raymond Scheindlin
  • Selichot Suite, a section of which uses Denise Levertov’s poem The Thread

I end by welcoming dancers and choreographers to share what poems they have enjoyed dancing to or creating movement for.  If you haven’t used poetry and movement together, I strongly encourage you to try it!

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Transition: News, Art and Personal Life

JoAnne Tucker / / Costa Rica, Personal Life

There is no way of escaping the use of the word “transition” when you turn on the news.  It is extremely disturbing how there simply is not the normal process of one President passing the baton to the next. The citizens of the U.S. are left in a state of suspension, a most uncomfortable feeling. And yet in a way that is its own form of transition. An abrupt sudden change.  And with this kind of transition in the midst of a pandemic the potential is there for unnecessary deaths and much pain.

As a choreographer my goal was to make a piece in which the transitions were seamless.  One section flowed appropriately into the next.  2020 is a year of major transitions for me with each one challenging me in a new way.  They are not seamless like a good piece of choreography nor are they sudden and abrupt.  Hints of what comes next have helped prepare me.  In reflecting I have had three major personal transitions and experienced a fourth, worldwide transition.   I share some of my thoughts on each of these. 

The first major transition, which I have already written about, was when Murray and I decided to sell our house in Santa Fe and move to Costa Rica, buying a house in Atenas.  Learning how to live in a new country, run a house with a beautiful garden and learn Spanish are indeed challenges in themselves.  Things got more complicated when Murray’s health problems continued to surface after we had been here just two weeks.  And they continued, except for the month of April, until the end of October when he passed. Now I am transitioning to being on my own. In the midst of all of this, COVID-19 changed all of our lives and we all made a rapid transition to learning how to use FaceTime and Zoom as our major ways of connecting with each other.  

Murray and I were very fortunate that neither of us had a major illness that required much caretaking of the other during the 56 years we were together.  While Murray had been diagnosed with heart issues quite a few years ago he did not have a serious incident until just a few weeks before we were due to leave for Costa Rica.  The doctors OK’d our plans to continue our move to Costa Rica after Murray responded well to a pacemaker.  

From mid-February to mid-July I gradually transitioned into my role of caretaking.  It was challenging for both of us because Murray loved his independence and it was very hard for him to be in a wheelchair needing help to get around. We had help during the day with our full-time house manager/driver/cook who developed a wonderful relationship with Murray (which will be a separate blog). We also had a nurse’s help for a few hours several days a week.  But from 4 pm to 9 am and on the weekend we were on our own and often liked that quiet time together.  Since Murray needed help to and from the bathroom at night I learned how to function on interrupted night-time sleep.  A conscious decision was made by Murray that he did not want to go back to the hospital and I supported that 100%.  In Costa Rica, doctors still make house calls and lab technicians come to the house too so that made things so much easier. 

So many times we expressed our joy and relief to be in Costa Rica and not the U.S. at this time with COVID changing things so much in the U.S. and not so much here.  We were very careful.  Murray did not go out of the house at all after mid-July and I only went to the grocery, pharmacy or bank.  Most of all Murray was able to continue enjoying our beautiful garden here.  And when he was indoors all the rooms have large windows treating his eye to one beautiful section of the property after another.  One of our favorite views was (and still is mine) looking out to the butterfly/hummingbird garden we put in where there had been a non-functioning Jacuzzi.  In particular, the butterflies were very regular visitors.  A gradual transition was progressing as Murray’s concentration and strength weakened and I had more caretaking roles. Given the option of having the nurse here more, especially on the weekend or after 4, I chose not to take it for several reasons. There was a peacefulness of just us being here together and I could keep things more normal.  That’s not to say there weren’t frustrating moments for both of us or that I didn’t sometimes feel overwhelmed.  

View from the bedroom window of the broken Jacuzzi that we turned into a garden.

We really missed family and loved the group Zoom calls with our daughters and grandchildren.  Murray so cherished and looked forward to them.  Yes… it would have been super if family could have been here but, like all the world, we were and are adapting to new ways of living because of the pandemic.  And over and over I felt and feel deep gratitude that Murray could transition in our home in a setting of sheer beauty.   

 Via Zoom we were able to have a meaningful memorial for him.  It was organized by our daughters and granddaughter, with a slideshow that brought both smiles and tears to me.  Led by my next-door neighbor growing up, who shared playing in the Allderdice High School Orchestra with Murray, the memorial had a very personal touch.  Although alone in Costa Rica, I felt so much love and warmth during the service and from feedback afterwards.  I am very grateful that our daughters and granddaughter went forward with this at a time I was just plain exhausted.

Now it is a month later and I am making another transition.  It is filled with a combination of missing Murray and the grief that goes with that, along with lots of questions. Most of the questions are just that… open questions which will take time to explore and for me to figure out.  They center around how I want to structure my daily life, from when to eat, what to eat, and what my body rhythm is.  How do I want to structure my creative activities?  Except for writing this blog (and not as regularly as I wanted to; I love and want to get back to the once-a-week schedule), I haven’t painted much [or done other creative work] at all.  So much time is spent with paperwork after a person dies, and while a lot has been accomplished there is much more to do.  That too is a major part of the transition.  

Some things are becoming clearer.  Meditation is playing a bigger role each day and I am finding it very meaningful to start each day with a half hour of meditation followed by some journal writing.  Being part of a Buddhist book group has also become important.  When asked whether I plan to return to the U.S., the answer is I have no plans [to move back] at this time, but down the road when perhaps there is a closer-to-normal lifestyle I will look forward to some visits.  I will keep a legal address in the U.S., and maintaining the ability to vote and stay connected is important to me.  I am glad to be continuing to work on a film begun nearly two years ago, on men’s experience of domestic violence and what services are available to them.  There is still much to be done related to domestic violence, and our film company Healing Voices – Personal Stories is very important to me.

The haunting question with no answer is why I feel so connected to being here in Costa Rica and what my purpose is here.  I feel so fortunate to be living in such a beautiful setting that Murray and I fell in love with a year ago.  His presence is very much here, from the papaya tree he planted from seed in March, which is now producing papaya,  to our careful selection of just some minimal furnishings.  For right now I am settling in and the answers will emerge.

The Papaya tree that Murray planted from a seed in March.
A close up of the papayas forming on the tree.

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Journey: A Dance Piece about the Jewish Immigrant Experience

JoAnne Tucker / / Avodah's Early History, New York Company, Personal Life

One of the main political talking points a year ago was how to reform U.S. immigration policies.  Today it is overshadowed by COVID-19.  Yet it is still a very important theme because immigration is a fundamental building block of the United States, and the current administration does all it can to block entry to the country. As director of the Avodah Dance Ensemble, I became fascinated with the Jewish immigrant experience to the U.S.  In 1985 I came across a book called Chaia Sonia, written by Don Gussow, describing the journey he and his family made to the U.S. (arriving in 1920).  After reading the book, I reached out to Don Gussow, asked to meet with him, and then asked for permission to use ideas from the book as themes for a new piece the dance company.  He was most enthusiastic, and generous with his time, and he strongly urged me to meet his son Alan Gussow as a possible collaborator on the project.  Alan and I met, and Alan began coming to rehearsals and became a key collaborator on “Journey.” I will be writing more about that later but first I want to share the result of a Google search to check the proper spelling of the title of the book Chaia Sonia.

I am never satisfied to see just what comes up on the first page of a search.  I usually continue for five to ten pages more, just because I often find fun surprises and additional information.  That is exactly what happened with the search for Chaia Sonia and Gussow.  First of all I was thrilled to see the book is still available and there is even a free download at one site, although I was reluctant to try it since it required registering and I wasn’t sure of the website.  What I did find was a YouTube video recorded by Don’s grandson Adam Gussow in July 2019. Adam has been a Professor of English and Southern Studies at the University of Mississippi since 2002.  But I knew about Adam because his father Alan often proudly shared that Adam was building a reputation as a harmonica player, and that was back in 1985.  Indeed Adam has built an outstanding reputation and is highly regarded for his blues harmonica playing. A review in American Harmonica Newsletter says that “Gussow’s playing is characterized by his technical mastery and innovative brilliance that comes along once in a generation.”  Futhermore there is a documentary on Netflix called Satan and Adam about Adam’s collaboration with Sterling “Mr. Satan” Magee.  It is a fascinating and well done documentary, covering from Adam’s first meeting with Satan (on Satan’s spot on a Harlem street) through their longtime collaboration.

I watched the full 23-minute video on YouTube with total attention.  And of course the opening title immediately caught my attention because its full version is so relevant to this blog.  The second line says, “All my people are immigrants – An American apologizes for the behavior of our president.”  It opens with Adam playing the harmonica and wow that just inspired my old bones to get up and dance.  Soon Adam begins speaking about his own family roots and in particular the book his grandfather wrote and how deeply he wants to apologize for the behavior of the president of the U.S.  I strongly urge you to watch it.  Here is the link.

Don Gussow, author of Chaia Sonia, was a publisher of trade magazines and wrote four books.  Chaia Sonia tells of his family’s flight through Poland and Russia to freedom. It is an incredible journey focusing on his mother, a courageous woman who led her family on a five-year journey from Lithuania to the United States, arriving in 1920.  

Current cover of Chaia Sonia, which is available at Amazon.  I remember a slightly different cover… but my memory could be wrong.

Before talking specifically about the piece “Journey” that we created, I want to share a little bit about Alan Gussow (1931-1997).  He had an outstanding, nearly 50-year career as an artist, author, activist/environmentalist and educator.  At age 21 he was awarded the Prix de Rome. He was introduced to art and in particular watercolor as a student at Middlebury College.  The following is[fix] an excerpt from a Fall 2018 article in the Maine Arts Journal, written by Carl Little, entitled “In Conversation with the World: Alan Gussow’s Watercolors”:

“As a student at Middlebury College in Vermont, I learned at least two things about art,” Gussow once recalled. “First, that art was magical. How I or any person could mix a little water with some paint and then make marks and shapes which look like parts of the world still remains a source of wonder.”….. “At Cooper Union where I studied for one year after Middlebury,” Gussow recalled, “I learned that art was a form of energy.” However nature-centered his art became, he consistently practiced a highly expressive approach to subjects, often entering realms of abstraction. 

It is interesting to note that in the 80’s Alan began experimenting with art as a process instead of a product. He brought wonderful energy into the process of our rehearsals.

As I continued developing ideas for the piece I decided that I wanted to reach out to others who had made a journey from Russia to the U.S. about the same time. I was lucky to know two other people with stories to share. One, Louis Siegel,was the father of a longtime friend of mine. We met and he shared his story.  I was immediately struck by themes similar to Don Gussow’s story. My husband’s Aunt Bess also recorded her story for us and again the same themes emerged.  These were long and difficult journeys involving crossing rivers, being hungry and sometimes stealing food.  

Rehearsals began with the five Avodah dancers at that time: Beatrice Bogorad, Jean Ference, Kathy Kellerman, Rachelle Palnick and Rick Jacobs.  Alan often joined us, sometimes with a very large piece of paper that he spread on the floor and enjoyed drawing on as we danced.  Ideas from the drawings later became a poster and invitation to our opening night performance.   We responded to the stories, creating an abstract piece with the desire to get to core of the experience, capturing the energy it took to make such a long and difficult journey.  I am not sure how successful we were with the finished product but the process was a meaningful and rich experience, at least for me, as the collaboration with Alan opened new doors and ways of thinking of things.   And interestingly, in researching for this blog, I feel a reconnecting with Alan.  I now look forward to studying his watercolors and learning from them, as well as from his writing, what I might apply here as I experiment with watercolor and enjoy time painting in our garden.

Page from Avodah Scrapbook showing the poster and invitation painted by Alan Gussow.
A favorite picture from “Journey.” Photo by Tom Brazil.

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An Intercultural Harmony Grant Funds a 2004 Summer Workshop

JoAnne Tucker / / Movement Workshops, Multicultural Programs, Perry-Mansfield, Personal Life

Avodah began to do week-long summer dance training programs in 1997, but I want to share memories of our final one, at Perry-Mansfield in August 2004.  We were very fortunate to have a grant from the Laura Jane Musser Fund.   This fund, which began in 1989 upon the death of Laura Jane Musser, is devoted to her interests, which included the arts and helping children.  One of the areas funded is Intercultural Harmony and we applied for a grant to provide a five-day workshop teaching how to use movement, music and storytelling to create multicultural programs in schools.  The grant enabled me to put together a stellar faculty and to help provide scholarships to participants.

This was not the first Avodah workshop at Perry-Mansfield in Steamboat Spring, CO. The first one was in 2001 when Amichai Lau Lavie and Libbie Mathes joined me as the faculty with our week focused on Yoga, Dance and Sacred Text. Libbie was my next-door neighbor in Steamboat Springs and we quickly discovered our common interest in dance and sacred text from both a Jewish and a Buddhist perspective.  This was a great opportunity for us to work together.  Libbie is a highly trained and gifted teacher of Yoga, having studied in India in both Asana (posture) and Pranayama (breath work).  Amichai is now a rabbi, but at the time of the workshop he was a student, extremely knowledgeable about Jewish text.  Libbie remembers “loving his analysis and insights into the Moses sagas.”  The workshop was part of Avodah’s training program for leaders of dance midrash, and at least one person who had done workshops with me in NYC made the trip to Perry-Mansfield in Colorado.

Libbie and I did another workshop the following year focusing on Meditation, with Rabbi Sheila Peltz Weinberg joining us. And then in 2004 we had a faculty of five, all people that I had a long history of working with.  As I mentioned in the opening paragraph, we focused on training teachers to use multicultural programs in the schools. Libbie continued providing the Yoga section and insights from her explorations of India and Yoga’s traditions.  Regina Ress, an international storyteller, had a huge number of relevant stories to share and had taught in schools at all levels.  Kezia had both an education degree and a dance degree, and had danced and taught with Avodah for 13 years.  She and I had led many workshops related to dance midrash and multicultural work that grew out of our piece Let My People Go.  Newman Taylor Baker is a percussionist I had worked with since 1989 as part of Let My People Go and then in other teaching situations along with our prison programs.  He had years of experience presenting school programs and had the most amazing collection of percussion instruments from all over the world.  In addition we invited Julie Gayer to join us, as she was taking on the role of director of The Avodah Dance Ensemble in the fall of 2004, since I was no longer living in New York City and was retiring from heading the dance company.

Our 2004 faculty from l. to r. Libbie, Kezia, Julie, JoAnne, Newman and Regina sitting on the edge of the Louis Horst Dance Studio at Perry-Mansfield.

We not only had participants from throughout the United States, but two members of the Steamboat Springs community, as well.  Libbie remembers a chemistry teacher and also an administrator.  We were thrilled that we could offer scholarships to participants.  Having all worked together before, this was a sheer teaching joy where we could just easily flow from one leader to another.  As Libbie and I were next-door neighbors and luckily the townhouse on the other side of mine was vacant, we rented it for the week, and everyone had fun hanging out together after teaching.  I remember that Newman introduced me to quinoa and showed me how to rinse it first before cooking it.  And then the weekend following the workshop, we had a wonderful time hiking two of my favorite trails. 

Storytelling, movement, and music are all ways to connect to others and learn about different cultures, finding common threads and celebrating differences.  For me on a personal note it was a wonderful way to complete my work with the Avodah Dance Ensemble as its founding director.  Avodah had begun with my exploration of my own Jewish roots and my relationship to Jewish text.  Now over thirty years later, I had changed and my focus was on building bridges between people and seeing intercultural harmony (the beautiful phrase used by the Laura Jane Musser Fund).  And how wonderful to be able to hold this workshop at Perry-Mansfield in the Louis Horst Studio.  It was like so many pieces of my life coming together…nature, spirituality, dance history, personal history, deep friendships and artistic collaborations. 

Regina hugging a tree on one of our hikes.
Resting on a hike and totally enjoying being together.

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