Serious dance hardly existed in the United States in the first half of the 20th century. One remarkable American, Isadora Duncan, had played as large a role at the turn of the century and after as anyone in the emancipation of dance from the rigid rules of classical ballet into a form of intense and improvisatory personal expression. But most of Duncan’s work was done and her life spent in Europe, and she bequeathed to the American imagination a shining, influential image rather than a set of steps. Ruth St. Denis and Ted Shawn, throughout the 1920s, kept dance in America alive; but it was in the work of the choreographer Martha Graham that the tradition of modern dance in the United States that Duncan had invented found its first and most influential master. Graham’s work, like that of her contemporaries among the Abstract Expressionist painters, sought a basic, timeless vocabulary of primal expression; but even after her own work seemed to belong only to a period, in the most direct sense she founded a tradition: a Graham dancer, Paul Taylor, became the most influential modern dance master of the next generation, and a Taylor dancer, Twyla Tharp, in turn the most influential choreographer of the generation after that. Where Graham had deliberately turned her back on popular culture, however, both Taylor and Tharp, typical of their generations, viewed it quizzically, admiringly, and hungrily. Whether the low inspiration comes from music—as in Tharp’s
A similar arc can be traced from the contributions of African American dance pioneers Katherine Dunham, beginning in the 1930s, and Alvin Ailey, who formed his own company in 1958, to Savion Glover, whose pounding style of tap dancing, know as “hitting,” was the rage of Broadway in the mid-1990s with
George Balanchine, the choreographer who dominated the greatest of American ballet troupes, the New York City Ballet, from its founding in l946 as the Ballet Society until his death in l983, might be considered outside the bounds of purely “American” culture. Yet this only serves to remind us of how limited and provisional such national groupings must always be. For, though Mr. B., as he was always known, was born and educated in Russia and took his inspiration from a language of dance codified in France in the 19th century, no one has imagined the gestures of American life with more verve, love, or originality. His was an art made with every window in the soul open: to popular music (he choreographed major classical ballets to Sousa marches and George Gershwin songs) as well as to austere and demanding American classical music (as in
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