Grace

On Wednesday I got one of those wonderful windfalls that arts-loving, middle-class denzions of cosmopolitan cities adore: a free ticket for a wonderful show. In this case, I was invited to see the Alvin Ailey dance company.

I am a fortunate person. This is probably the fifth or sixth time I have had an opportunity to see this amazing troupe perform. I'm actually gaining enough familiarity with the group to recognize certain dancers and to have seen some dances more than once.

Last night was extraordinary because the seats were the best I've ever had for Ailey: orchestra fourth row from the stage. In another stroke of luck, the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra (conducted by the brilliant Wynton Marsalis) accompanied the dancers live. As if this wasn't enough cake and icing, a small group of gospel singers joined the orchestra for Revelations at the end.

The program was a sampling of pieces choreographed by Ailey over time: Night Creatures, Revelations in D, Caravan, The Mooche, The Road Show of Phoebe Snow, Pas de Duke, and Revelations.

At other performances, I found Ailey's older pieces (with the exception of Revelations) to be a little tired. This was not the case tonight. Perhaps my excellent seat allowed me for the first time to appreciate the facial expressions and subtle movements of the dancers, such as arching backs, rhythmic ribcages, quick hand gestures.

Perhaps the impact of the dance was heightened by the live music. Seeing them move before the orchestra punctuated the fact that the two disciplines are working in tandum to the master of movement and time. I've seen traditional dancers from India, Hawaii, or Indonesia perform with musicians and singers on stage. Generally, the musicians are very closely watching the dancers who move to their beats.

Last night I noticed that the musicians and singers were not watching the dancers at all. They were focused on the music as the dancers were focused on the dance. If either lost their sense of rhythm or control, the performance would suffer. Of course, both were masters and the performances were practically flawless.

Another wonderful aspect of the show was watching it at this moment in time. It is the 50th anniversary of the troupe. Alvin Ailey died in 1986 and one of his dancers, Judith Jamison, took control and facilitated the organization's professional and artistic growth. Ailey has grown from a small troupe for a marginalized group to a major cultural institution that recently opened a huge dance facility in NYC.

Ailey's choreography and dancers continue to convey the experience of African Americans, but they are also diversifying and this is intriguing to me. The dancers and choreographers now include people of other ethnicities. The dances now cover a broader range of experience.

This seems positive to me because it indicates progress. First, the community that supports Ailey has probably broadened and its traditional base of African Americans donors has probably prospered and grown. Major corporations support Ailey, and the ranks of African American CEOs is probably bigger than ever before.

Second, there is an indication that the larger culture has diversified to the point where an African Americans dance troup doesn't feel compelled to provide opportunities soley to African Americans. This strikes me as a healthy way of moving from a protective and closed attitude forged from strife to an attitude of renewal and regeneration in an optomistic environment.

Finally, we are in what must be one of the most optomistic environments for African Americans. The first black president is poised to take the oath of office.

Watching the story of this group of people through their choreography to their music at this time was particularly poignent. While the economic crises unfold, many people are hurting, and anti-Western radicals continue to spread violence and hate; this extraordinarly display of talent, narrative, moxy, and diversity declares that there is good reason to hope things will improve.