Last week, something truly special happened. I had the incredible opportunity to revisit Spanish Dance, a piece that holds a dear place in my history, alongside fellow alumnae of the Trisha Brown Dance Company. Performing this dance again at Trisha Brown’s 75th birthday benefit and auction at the Sikkema Jenkins Gallery was not just a performance; it was a deeply emotional journey back in time.
For those unfamiliar, Spanish Dance is a captivating work. Imagine five women dressed in white, spaced evenly across the stage – or in our case, the intimate setting of the Sikkema Jenkins Gallery. Slowly, organically, they merge, one by one, into a unified entity. This sensual, synchronized tread unfolds to the melancholic yet beautiful tune of Gordon Lightfoot’s “Early Mornin’ Rain,” sung by Bob Dylan. The simplicity of the setup belies the profound connection and subtle humor embedded within the choreography of Spanish Dance.
The performance culminated, as Spanish Dance always does, in a poignant moment. As I reluctantly detached from the embrace of my fellow dancers just before the bow, emotion overwhelmed me. Perhaps it was seeing Trisha Brown herself in the audience, her silent “I love you” a palpable wave of affection. Or maybe it was the realization that this might be my last time performing this particular piece. Memories flooded back of my cherished three years dancing with Trisha in the 1970s, and suddenly, tears welled up. Maintaining composure for the bow became an unexpected challenge. Later, I learned that my emotional response resonated with the audience, many of whom confessed to shedding tears as well.
You can witness a previous rendition of this moving piece here, which offers a glimpse into the essence of Spanish Dance.
Image: A still from a performance of Spanish Dance, capturing the unified movement and emotional depth of the piece.
What makes Spanish Dance so compelling is its inherent humor. The visual of women gradually coalescing, their torsos pressed together in synchronized hip movements, inching across the performance space is both unusual and strangely delightful. As a performer, the dance demands a unique kind of awareness. You must be attuned to the rhythm of the dancers both ahead and behind you, while maintaining a serene gaze across the audience. The final beat, where the lead dancer reaches the wall or proscenium, typically elicits laughter from the audience. It’s a perfectly timed punchline, not of surprise, but of satisfyingly precise execution at the music’s close.
Sharing the stage with Vicky Shick, Irene Hultman, Lisa Kraus, and Elizabeth Garren was an absolute joy. Each of these women are, and remain, incredibly vibrant movers, even after decades in dance. Our rehearsal the day before, donning our pajama-like white “costumes,” was filled with the kind of lighthearted, slightly irreverent camaraderie that comes from shared history. We are, in a sense, sisters, bound by our deep affection for Trisha Brown. We appreciate her for seeing each of us as individual dancers, for pushing our artistic boundaries, for her inherent kindness, and for her consistently stimulating genius.
One of the lighter moments during rehearsal highlighted the enduring spirit of dancers. In Spanish Dance, each performer raises their arms in a gesture that could be interpreted as vaguely “Spanish.” After our initial run-through, Diane Madden, the exceptional rehearsal director for the Trisha Brown Dance Company, complimented our arm movements, saying they were beautiful. A simple, kind comment. Then Elizabeth Garren playfully blurted out, “But whose were the best?” The studio erupted in laughter. It’s a testament to the fact that a touch of competitiveness never truly fades, even after years of experience.
Like the celebratory champagne and gogi berry vodka served to the event’s donors, our nostalgic rendition of Spanish Dance was intended to create a relaxed and convivial atmosphere. The moment we entered the gallery, a wave of recognition and enthusiastic applause washed over us. It was clear the audience knew and loved Spanish Dance. It was a treat for them, and equally so for us – a paradoxical delicacy, a refreshing immersion into the realm of female artistic intimacy.
Image: A historical photograph of the original Spanish Dance cast in 1977, showcasing the legacy and evolution of this iconic choreography.
Throughout the evening, I had the pleasure of engaging in fascinating conversations with guests. One conversation particularly stood out: a man recounted how he had sent a DVD of Spanish Dance to Bob Dylan, believing it captured the same wandering, melancholic soulfulness he felt in Dylan’s music. It underscored the multifaceted nature of Spanish Dance, how it resonates differently with each viewer. I still find myself wondering if Bob Dylan ever watched it and what he might have thought of our interpretation of melancholy in movement.
Performing Spanish Dance again was more than just revisiting a piece of choreography; it was a reaffirmation of connection, history, and the enduring power of dance to evoke emotion and create shared experiences. It was a beautiful reminder of the lasting impact of Trisha Brown’s vision and the bonds forged through movement.
