“A great performer feels this sharing,”  This line, written by the choreographer and theater visionary, Alwin Nikolais, describes the ideal relationship between dancer and audience.  Nikolais recorded this thought on a sheet of paper containing other observations and, wonderfully, this handwritten series of notes is one of the many extraordinary objects to be found in the current exhibition, “Alwin Nikolais’ Total Theater of Motion,” on display in the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts’ Vincent Astor Gallery.  The exhibition, curated by Claudia Gitelman, runs until January 15, 2011.

I have been a fan of Nikolais since seeing an utterly astounding performance of Noumenon in the late 1970s.  Although I was not well schooled in dance history and in spite of my regrettable lack of exposure to dance at that stage, I recall feeling that I was witnessing something very special and was certainly inspired.  The experience of Noumenon (along with an explosive solo piece by Murray Louis) made me want to dance.  Moreso, it made me feel as though I could dance.  Sharing, indeed.

It was, therefore, quite thrilling to encounter so much material in the NYPL exhibit that explores Nikolais’ educational endeavors, particularly his years with the Henry Street Settlement House on New York City’s Lower East Side.  Nikolais, along with Hanya Holm, directed the dance program there for many years and the exhibition celebrates this period with delightful photographs, programs, and posters.  Under the directorship of Nikolais and Holm, the profile of dance in the community was raised to fabulously high levels and great numbers of young people were engaged and turned on.  There is a particularly memorable photograph in the exhibition (from either the 1940s or 1950s) that shows a huge line of neighborhood people outside the Henry Street Playhouse, waiting to gain entry to a dance performance.  At another point in the Henry Street Settlement House section, a caption reads: “The first performing experiences of professional students at the Henry Street Playhouse were in dance dramas for neighborhood children.  Nikolais invented whimsical plots, vivid characters and outlandish costumes.”  Nikolais was bringing dance to the people in a major way.

And there is so much more. A striking photo of a beaming Alwin Nikolais with his idol and mentor, Mary Wigman, from 1958.  A series of costume sketches and television storyboards, created by Nikolais.  An LP record jacket for the Hanover Records release of the “Choreosonic Music of the New Dance Theatre of Alwin Nikolais.”  A copy of Nikolais’ Index to Puppetry, done for the WPA in 1936.  A business card dispensed by Nikolais in the earliest part of his career, advertising his position as an organist for the Fine Arts Theatre in Westport, Connecticut.  Costumes and props from such pieces as Gallery, Allegory, and Tent.  Wonderful and sometimes miraculous video and film clips of many Nikolais works, illustrating with absolute clarity the nature and extent of his “total theater of motion.”

Some date omissions are problematic.  However, the selected materials, the overall arrangement of the show, and the generally informative captions all get high marks.  The highest mark, though, goes to the simple act of creating an extensive tribute to the life and work of Alwin Nikolais.  It is a well-earned but long overdue tribute and I can say with great sincerity that it is a tribute very much appreciated.  And well worth seeing before it is taken down on January 15.

And, speaking of long overdue tributes, I just want to take another moment to praise the Museum of the City of New York (MCNY) for the current gem of an exhibition celebrating the work of Denys Wortman, cartoonist for the World Telegram and Sun from 1930-1953.  I knew nothing at all of Wortman’s work prior to seeing the exhibition and now cannot fathom his absence from notoriety for all of the years following his death in 1958.  What a wonderful observer of society and socioeconomic classes, and how important to bring such marvelous and significant work to the attention of the public once again.  The exhibition, entitled “Denys Wortman Rediscovered,” will be on display at MCNY until March 20, 2011.


I really thought I already had written a blog post about this great project developed under the auspices of the Center for Documentary Studies at Duke University, but it still must be sitting in my ever-expanding pile of good intentions.  At any rate, I must say that I have been enjoying the NPR radio series about the  4,000 hours or so of audio recordings made by Life magazine photographer W. Eugene Smith at the New York City loft space he rented at 821 Sixth Avenue between the years 1957 and 1965.   I also am delighted to discover that the Project has now sprouted a book and a blog, and, soon, an exhibition at the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts!

In addition to documenting the sounds of now-legendary jazz artists in their prime and the changing New York cityscape, Smith also recorded those other kinds of cats in the loft that tried to keep the vermin at bay.  Sadly, the Jazz Loft Project Web site does not yet include any cat recordings (you can hear a fragment on one of the radio broadcasts), but  they do provide a lovely image of a solitary cat on the site’s “Primary” slide show (no. 24) for your viewing pleasure.

I guess they’re not too concerned with marketing to librarians and archivists at this point.

Sorry for not warning you about my vacation ahead of time.  Regular posts, as well as the interrupted series of SAA conference reports, will resume shortly.  With the Fall arts season off and running, there have been many, many items in the news worth noting and thinking about over the past few weeks.  Perhaps one of the most interesting has been the hubbub, reported in the New York Times and elsewhere, over the Friedman-Abeles photograph collection in the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts from whence this image, a studio publicity portrait of Ray Walston and Gwen Verdon in Damn Yankees, comes.

I’ll leave you to think about it until the next post.

Image credit: Friedman-Abeles publicity photograph for Damn Yankees.  NYPL Digital Gallery ID # 1606701

Just had a chance to see one of the two exciting shows at NYPL’s Performing Arts Library, as mentioned by elssler1: “Focus on the 70s: The Fabulous Photography of Kenn Duncan.” Fabulous, indeed. The photographs are quite stunning and capture the fun and carefree, sometimes tacky beauty of my favorite decade. Seeing almost iconic images of many of the almost completely forgotten major (and minor) stars of the period, as well as glamor shots of young, up-and-comers who wound up turning into industry giants, is enough to keep one smiling throughout the gallery stroll. Arthur Mitchell’s shot, with dapper fedora and New York backdrop, is especially wonderful.

My big complaint, though, is the decided lack of information provided in the exhibit and the decision that was made by the curator to provide nothing but photographs or copies of photographs and reproductions of magazine covers. A display case featuring actual magazines and some other Duncan and period ephemera would have been a nice addition. And more detailed information about Duncan’s life and work, as well as some pieces written by friends and colleagues, would have made the exhibit feel less impersonal. I am thinking of the vast array of material and the general care that was displayed in the Jerome Robbins exhibit and cannot help but feel a little let down about this one. Also, let’s face it, an exhibit that highlights the 70s really needs to be as wild and silly (and outlandish) as possible. Why was the design team not given more liberty to go a little crazy?

In the very short program that is provided for the exhibit, there is a paragraph that reads: “Kenn Duncan’s reputation as a photographer has undeservedly lain dormant for 20 years. Now is the time to open up his world of singular beauty for a new generation.” To me, this paragraph demonstrates the exhibit’s essential disparity. The unnamed writer of these lines is absolutely correct that a celebration of Duncan and his work is way long overdue; however, why does the writer feel that “now” is the time for this celebration? Of course, I do know what the writer is getting at, but it is clearly not expressed as well as it should be. Accordingly, while the images in this exhibit are extraordinary, the curator has failed to provide substance or context and has not succeeded in adequately affording Duncan the full celebration that he deserves.

Please, though, go and see it! The photographs are a joy to behold.