ABSTRACT Title of Dissertation / Thesis: MAKING DANCE THAT MA TTERS: DANCER, CHOREOGRAPHE R, COMMUNITY ORGANIZER, PUBLIC INTELLECTUAL LIZ LER MAN Lisa Traiger, M.F.A., 2004 Thesis Directed By: Visiting Associate Professor Karen Bradley, Depar tment of Dance Washington, D.C. -based choreographer and dancer Liz Lerman, a MacArthur Award recipient, has been making dances of consequence for 30 years. Her choreography, her writing and her public speaking tackle “big ideas” for the dance field and society at large. Lerman articulates those ideas as questions: “Who gets to dance? Where is the dance happening? What is it about? Why does it matter?” This thesis investigates how Lerman has used her expertise as a choreographer, dancer and spokesperson to propel herself and her ideas beyond the tightly knit field into the larger community as a public intellectual. A brief history and overview defines public intellectual, followed by an examination of Lerman’s early life and influences. Finally, three them atic areas in Lerman’s work – personal narrative, Jewish content and community -based art – are explored through the lens of three choreographic works: “New York City Winter” (1974), “The Good Jew?” (1991) and “Still Crossing” (1986). MAKING DANCE THAT MATTERS: DANCER, CHOREOGRAPHE R, COMMUNITY ORGANIZ ER, PUBLIC INTELLECTUAL LIZ LERMAN By Lisa Traiger Thesis or Dissertation submitted to the Faculty of the Graduate School of the University of Maryland, College Park, in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Fine Arts 2004 Advisory Committee: Visiting Associate Professor Karen Bradley, Chair Professor Meriam Rosen Professor Suzanne Carbonneau © Copyright by Lisa Traiger 2004 Preface The first time I experienced Liz Lerman’s choreography, I danced it. In May of 1980, I was a high schooler and a member of a tiny civic ballet company, Prince George’s Ballet. I performed in a piece of choreography Ler man called “May Dances” one warm Saturday afternoon on the grass and steps fronting the Lincoln Memorial as part of the Washington Performing Arts Society’s CityDance ’80 festival. I was one in a crowd. One of 800 on those beautiful, sun-washed marble ste ps, parading before a panel of local dance critics, each group, from the professional companies to the tiny studios, basking in their moment in the sun. We danced the phrase as our teacher instructed us: simple semaphoric arms, closing together then openin g upward, outward to the sun, to Lincoln, to the crowd of friends and strangers gathered there. How grand it was to be among 800 dancers from such a diversity of traditions – kabuki dancers and Irish dancers, jazz and tap dancers, folk dancers of every sort, budding ballerinas with pastel ribbons and proud African dancers displaying hues of green and orange and yellow, magenta and teal. We were all there to celebrate the dance community. And to dance. As the recorded strains of Aaron Copland’s “Fanfare for the Common Man” rose above the crowd, we lifted our arms heavenward, faces pitched toward the sky. It was at once magnificent and incomprehensible. There I was, a 17-year -old bunhead, an eager if mediocre ballet student, too short, too thick, with too lit tle understanding of the breadth of the dance world in my iii own community, let alone in the world beyond. But there it was, dance arrayed before me in all its multicultural glory. I remember when my ballet teacher told us about the event in February of that year, we asked first about the steps and how difficult they would be. My teacher with her distinctive sniff and arched eyebrow noted that it was choreographed by “that modern dancer, Liz Lerman,” so it wouldn’t be at all difficult. And it wasn’t, for this majestic dance before the Lincoln Memorial wasn’t about the technique we practiced so assiduously day in, day out. It was about dance for everybody and every body. It was about the democracy of the body. It was about inclusion. It was about how arms uprai sed can overcome stylistic differences – and, by suggestion, cultural barriers – in ways that technique would never overcome. But I was a teenager and I had no idea what “May Dances” was about, what it meant or what it presaged. And I gave it little though t. Until recently. I met Liz Lerman in 1986. By then she was a noteworthy dancer, choreographer and teacher as well as the director of two Washington, D.C. -based companies, the Dance Exchange and Dancers of the Third Age, her renowned and forward -thinking traveling troupe of senior adults and young dancers. She made dances at once politically provocative and humanely evocative. She taught masterful workshops that got even the most timid, the frailest of bodies moving. I met Lerman because I knew enough about her work to realize that I should sign up for a text and movement workshop she was conducting at the first international conference on iv Jewish dance, “Jews and Judaism in Dance: Reflection and Celebration,” at the 92nd Street Y in New York. Lerman facilit ated in a room overcrowded with mostly eager, predominantly Jewish women intent on exploring how they could connect their Judaism with dance, how they could elicit choreographic ideas from the wellspring of Hebrew textual material; in this case she selecte d the English translation of the daily morning shacharit prayers. I was amazed that Lerman – with so many other dancers, choreographers, teachers, scholars and writers – was a part of sharing in the same search: seeking out meaningful ways to link Judaism and its cultural heritage to a love of dance. I was intrigued, too, by how easily Lerman connected with these students, some professional dancers or choreographers, others mere dabblers, some well into middle age, others barely 20. We spoke only briefly af ter the workshop, but I realized that as a young dance writer trying to begin a career in Washington, D.C., Lerman was someone I should know more about. The story I wrote on that conference was among my earliest professionally published pieces. Over the co urse of my dance -writing career, I’ve had the opportunity to cover Lerman regularly in the Washington, D.C. area for nearly two decades. Every two years, on average, I can count on the chance to pitch a story on a developing Lerman project. Throughout, she has been extremely generous in granting me often -lengthy interviews that have over time evolved into conversations on the direction that art – especially her art – should be taking as it reshapes itself for the 21st century. v I noticed during our intervie ws – thoughtful chats really – that Lerman often asked as many questions of me as I did of her. At first intimidated that she was turning tables on the interviewer, I came to understand Lerman’s curiosity, her questioning for what it was, a hunger to learn and grow at every opportunity. Lerman is nothing if not curious, intent on learning, always. In some ways, these conversations and my experiences watching the evolution of her work, have helped shape my own views on dance and on the arts in society. Lisa Traiger September 2003 vi Dedication To my husband, Kobi, without whom this would never have come to pass. To my children, for whom I hope this will serve as an example that in life one never stops learning and growing. To my father, who thought I was craz y. vii Acknowledgements This thesis grew from seeds planted by my mentors, colleagues, friends. Without Mim Rosen’s passing remark, I would have never have considered returning to graduate school in mid -life. Without Karen Bradley’s willingness to lobby for a non- traditional student in the dance program, I would not have turned 40 as a student. Without Suzanne Carbonneau’s offhand suggestion, I would never have embarked on this research project, which has become very dear to me. I thank, as well, Liz Lerman for generously and willingly becoming both my research subject and my research partner. Our meetings and conversations have been enriching to me both professionally and personally. I never leave a conversation with Liz without a new idea, a new angle, a new way of looking at something. I also thank the Dance Exchange staff, in particular, John Borstel, humanities director, who has graciously and tirelessly honored and shepherded all my requests. Finally, I thank all those listed in the bibliography who have generously taken time to speak with me openly and candidly about their experiences with and thoughts on the work of Liz Lerman. viii Table of Contents Preface ..........................................................................................................................iii Dedication................................................................................................................... vii Acknowledgements ....................................................................................................viii Table of Contents ......................................................................................................... ix Chapter 1: Introduction and Procedures ....................................................................... 1 Mapping a Biography ............................................................................................... 1 Creating a Place at the Table .................................................................................... 5 Chapter 2: Review of Literature ................................................................................. 11 The Search Begins … ............................................................................................