An Introduction to Martha GrahamMartha Graham was a modern dancer, choreographer, and one of the giants of modern dance and American dance. She developed Graham technique, one of the pillars of modern dance. Below is an excerpt from the book "Acts of Light: Martha Graham in the Twenty-first Century," written by Nan Deane Cano. It is a lyrical introduction to Martha Graham's life and dance legacy.
Title: "Acts of Light: Martha Graham in the Twenty-first Century" Author: Nan Deane Cano Excerpt: "Desire is a lovely thing, and that is where the dance comes from, from desire." - Martha Graham |
What did the lithe young girl desire? To move and breathe freely - not the norm for a girl born in 1894. Martha Graham experienced family losses as a child and knew emptiness. All her joys and sorrows melted into her body and remained where she could touch them for ninety-seven years.
At fourteen, when Martha and her family moved from Pittsburgh to Santa Barbara, California, she ran the length of the train as the deep colors and immeasurable frontier landscape swept over her. The parallel tracks marched to infinity. The ballet Frontier began on that train in the mind of this American genius who wanted to capture America's space and rhythm.
How to make motion visible? How to blend memory, movement, and intuition in a dancer's body?
"It all begins with the breath." - Martha Graham
Transforming the simple in and out of breath, both gentle and fierce, Graham pulls movement from the body as if for the first time.
Contraction. Release.
Contraction. Release.
From such pure and natural resources, Martha crafted her technique like a Pueblo potter sinking her hands deep into rich clay awaiting her hands' powerful embrace. From the 1930s to the 1980s, the dances poured forth. We see her white face, a mask, glowing from the folds of a black gown stretched over and around her, creating a second skin, a private place. She asks if we are ready to go on life's journey with her, aware that pain undoubtedly awaits.
Just as Shakespeare compliments his audience by writing the words and simply giving them to us, Graham takes her audience by the hand, leading them to move, dance, feel, trusting their minds and souls would open, would know.
Graham's invitation echoes the most serious themes of the twentieth century. Her social consciousness gave voice to her new vocabulary: mothers losing sons in war after war, the depression, insidious mechanization informed her work. She heard voices; women spoke to her through time: Clytemnestra, Jocasta, Phaedra, Joan of Arc, Emily Dickinson. She danced into the paintings of Chagall, Picasso, Kandinsky, the sculptures of Calder and Noguchi. Danced into the farmhouses of a newly wed Shaker couple. Skipped through giddy and mature love, collapsed in pain.
Martha Graham knew she was a vessel for light and dark, destined to breathe in and out, to fall onto to rise.
From 1926 on, dancers planted bare feet flat on the floor, gripped with arms, legs, bent torsos, and went deep into primal contractions and release. If audiences let themselves wander into her mazes, houses, streets, they find themselves waiting.
Life cuts, burns, freezes and laughs out loud. So does the Graham body of work of 181 ballets.
She was a golden treasure, hidden deep in many boxes. America and the world opened each box thinking the dances would never end. They did not.
- from "Acts of Light: Martha Graham in the Twenty-first Century," by Nan Deane Cano
At fourteen, when Martha and her family moved from Pittsburgh to Santa Barbara, California, she ran the length of the train as the deep colors and immeasurable frontier landscape swept over her. The parallel tracks marched to infinity. The ballet Frontier began on that train in the mind of this American genius who wanted to capture America's space and rhythm.
How to make motion visible? How to blend memory, movement, and intuition in a dancer's body?
"It all begins with the breath." - Martha Graham
Transforming the simple in and out of breath, both gentle and fierce, Graham pulls movement from the body as if for the first time.
Contraction. Release.
Contraction. Release.
From such pure and natural resources, Martha crafted her technique like a Pueblo potter sinking her hands deep into rich clay awaiting her hands' powerful embrace. From the 1930s to the 1980s, the dances poured forth. We see her white face, a mask, glowing from the folds of a black gown stretched over and around her, creating a second skin, a private place. She asks if we are ready to go on life's journey with her, aware that pain undoubtedly awaits.
Just as Shakespeare compliments his audience by writing the words and simply giving them to us, Graham takes her audience by the hand, leading them to move, dance, feel, trusting their minds and souls would open, would know.
Graham's invitation echoes the most serious themes of the twentieth century. Her social consciousness gave voice to her new vocabulary: mothers losing sons in war after war, the depression, insidious mechanization informed her work. She heard voices; women spoke to her through time: Clytemnestra, Jocasta, Phaedra, Joan of Arc, Emily Dickinson. She danced into the paintings of Chagall, Picasso, Kandinsky, the sculptures of Calder and Noguchi. Danced into the farmhouses of a newly wed Shaker couple. Skipped through giddy and mature love, collapsed in pain.
Martha Graham knew she was a vessel for light and dark, destined to breathe in and out, to fall onto to rise.
From 1926 on, dancers planted bare feet flat on the floor, gripped with arms, legs, bent torsos, and went deep into primal contractions and release. If audiences let themselves wander into her mazes, houses, streets, they find themselves waiting.
Life cuts, burns, freezes and laughs out loud. So does the Graham body of work of 181 ballets.
She was a golden treasure, hidden deep in many boxes. America and the world opened each box thinking the dances would never end. They did not.
- from "Acts of Light: Martha Graham in the Twenty-first Century," by Nan Deane Cano