Rebirth of an Artist

"Martha, what you must realize is that you are not a goddess," a teacher once told Martha Graham. "You must admit mortality." That was well over half a century ago, and Graham still gives no hint of admitting that she is mortal. "I've just entered a new cycle of energy," explains America's most inventive modern dancer. "I'm going through a rebirth--with anything artistic one must die to be reborn."

Her rebirth after nearly three years of introspective moodiness and illness came spectacularly last week in New York with the opening of her company's 35th season. For the two-week engagement, she staged a stunningly successful version of Clytemnestra, one of her major achievements, and choreographed two powerful new works: Mendicants of Evening, in which she fuses poetry and dance to an electronic score, and Myth of a Voyage, a dance drama that she describes as "a gentle satire on everyman's eternal longing for the fulfillment of a dream." Those new creations brought her a lifetime total of 146 original ballets. No other woman has ever contributed such a large body of work to the theater.

Last week's opening was one of the rare occasions in her 53-year career that Graham, now 79, did not appear on the stage as a dancer. Only at the end of the S.R.O. first night did she emerge from the wings to a standing ovation--a moment of high emotion. The last time she had performed was in 1969, and her later decision to stop dancing had seemed to mark the end of her fruitful career and cast her into deep gloom. "It was a difficult time," she now says. "But then I began to feel a sense of urgency that my work should go on even if I was not able to dance myself."The cheering audience plainly agreed.

As one of the great influences on modern dance, Graham's art is intensely psychological, shot through with Freud and populated by Jungian archetypes. For her, dance is the way to probe the mysteries of the psyche. It was a childhood experience that persuaded her that movement is more revealing than words. When her father caught her in a lie, she asked how he knew. "No matter what words may say," he explained, "movement never lies." That observation became her lifelong credo.

Graham's art starts on the ground. Deploring the ballerina's tiptoe point as artificial, she flexed her foot. It was a deceptively simple innovation; yet, it irrevocably changed the technique of modern dance. She also concentrated many movements on the pelvis, and the results were frankly sexual. "You have to take life as it surges through you." she shrugs, "and sex is part of it."

Life is still clearly surging through her. She has no plans to retire. In July, Graham and her company will go to Lake Placid, N.Y., where she will preside over a theater workshop. While there, she will choreograph another new work, oversee three more revivals and also tape her reminiscences for a future autobiography.

"Anthony Tudor [choreographer] once asked me how I would wish to be remembered: as a dancer or a choreographer. Unhesitatingly I retorted, 'As a dancer, of course.' But now I see what he was getting at." Indeed. Last week's superb performances make it obvious that Martha Graham will be remembered as both.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.