danceview
a quarterly review of dance

Commentary

September 11, 2001:
Dancing in Washington

by Alexandra Tomalonis
copyright © 2001 by Alexandra Tomalonis
Autumn 2001

On the morning of Tuesday, September 11, when no one knew exactly what was happening, or how many planes would be involved in what soon became clear was a coordinated terrorist attack, the FAA (Federal Aviation Administration) stopped all air traffic. Two dancers of the Liz Lerman Dance Exchange were on a plane on the runway at National, on their way to the University of Michigan at Ann Arbor, where the Exchange was working on a segment of its Hallelujah Project. Thomas Dwyer and Kazu Nakamura, along with the other passengers, got off the plane, not understanding what had happened, and advised only to “walk away from the airport as quickly as you can.”

Several miles away in Northeast, D.C., Carla Perlo’s Dance Place was starting its day. Perlo gave dancers in the classes and rehearsals the option of going home or staying, and they chose to stay. “We have to keep moving,” Perlo said, “because that’s what we do as dancers.” While other businesses shut down and the city was quiet for a few days, Dance Place remained open. “People kept coming to the studio,” said Perlo. “I think it’s because the performing arts give us the means to express ourselves.” Perlo was working on the revival of one of her dances, a work that used baggage--as in airplane luggage--as a metaphor for that other baggage, the psychological kind. The piece is called Get Over It, and was to be danced at the season’s opener, just a few days away. Perlo didn’t think for a minute of dropping it, or changing it but, instead, seized the moment. “We’re talking a lot more than we used to,” she said. “We’re not ignoring that it happened.”

Lerman’s Hallelujah Project piece also seemed strangely appropriate to the unexpected terror and the state of the world: Paradise Lost, Paradise Found. Lerman works with dancers of all ages; that day, she was with a group of elderly women. “I can’t think of a better place to be that morning,” she said, appreciating their perspective, their wisdom. They agreed as a group to continue working, but stopped every half-hour to get news. Lerman’s concert was scheduled for October 6th. On September 11th, it was impsossible to predict what the audience would be in the mood to see then. The company discussed whether they should change the work and, if so, how. They decided to keep the theme, but work in images specific to the day’s events.

Talking with these two women only a few days after the attack, I was struck by how completely their comments focused on their work. Both were concerned about their dancers’ physical and emotional well-being, of course, but the questions were all about the role of dancing and the role of art. Did one try to depict a tragic, horrible event? Ignore it? Provide comfort? Provide relief? Cancel performances out of respect? Keep on dancing to show courage, or steadfasteness? Change the repertory, change the work? “You have to be in the moment,” Perlo said. “The work doesn’t stay the same.” Lerman once offered one of the best definitions of dance I’ve ever heard: “Dance is experiencing life through movement.” In that sense, dance was appropriate to this, or any other moment.