Making DANCE

Like research and writing, photography requires choices. We make choices while creating narratives, building arcs, and describing a subject. Taking pictures has many similarities to writing stories. 

The Bill T. Jones/Arnie Zane Dance Company is an acclaimed contemporary dance company. Bill is a national treasure. He’s received many awards and honors for his choreography, including President Obama’s The Kennedy Center Honors, several Tony Awards, Bessie Dance Awards, as well as a McArthur “Genius” Fellowship. 

We met in the 1990s when I was working on the book Reaching for Dreams: A Ballet from First Rehearsal to Opening Night with the Alvin Ailey Dance Theater. Bill and his partner Arnie Zane were rehearsing their own ballet with the company in the studio next door. Arnie often teased me, “Why aren’t you doing a book with us?” 

“Someday,” I’d reply, “someday.” Sadly, Arnie passed away before DANCE came to fruition. During the six-week rehearsal period and out-of-town tryouts with the Ailey company, we bonded. When the opportunity came about for me to do another picture book about dance, I wanted it to be about a solo dancer, and I knew it had to be Bill. 

When photographing dance, the images must, must, must reflect the choreographer’s unique vision. Bill T. Jones has classic, balletic lines, but being the innovator that he is, he breaks rules. He questions the status quo with movement. He twists balletic angles and reverses traditional shapes, and he does so very, very fast. My task was to find a way to marry Bill’s unique choreography with my photographic style. Our task was to create a book that children of all ages will adore. Easy peasy!

The Research

To better understand Bill’s choreography, I had to start from the beginning. I attended auditions for his company. The rehearsal director, Janet Wong, lined up groups of dancers at a time and taught them a combination of steps based on Bill’s distinctive movements. Bill leaned forward on his bridge chair, elbows on knees, watching intently. Sitting beside him, I could feel him thinking. I tried to see what Bill was looking for as the aspiring company members went through the combination of steps. He later explained that he was looking beyond the steps and movement, he was looking for artists who could interpret his vision and yet bring their own personality to the dance. Two were chosen. 

Next, I attended the company’s rehearsals, where Bill was creating a new ballet. Truth be told, I enjoy rehearsals even more than performances because that’s where the creative process takes place.  

We talked about our vision for the book. The most important feature was that it be child friendly—fun, informative, simple, and accessible. I suggested a bare studio with a white, seamless backdrop where Bill would dance as I photographed him. Then, after we choose the best images, we could come up with a graceful narrative that defined dance. 

The Photography

In a large photography studio, my assistant, Marshall Norstein, set four large strobe lights to minimize shadows. He made sure the white set was spotlessly clean. We took turns taking Polaroid pictures of each other dancing barefoot across the set to be sure everything was evenly lit. Bill arrived with his partner, artist Bjorn Amelan, and his mother, Estella Jones, in tow. I loved Bill’s mother. She sat on the sideline holding her Bible. Before we began, she led us in prayer. 

Bill chose to wear his own trousers. He rightly understood that trousers rather than a leotard would be more relatable to children. Bjorn left to do his own work and Bill went to the side of the studio to warm up by doing a basic ballet barre combination that all dancers know. I tiptoed behind him to copy his warmup. His form was perfect and mine, despite all my dance classes, meh. I thought I’d die if he saw me. He turned his head, smiled, and I turned beet red. 

And then we began. Bill danced across the white backdrop in a series of dance combinations. “Direct me, direct me,” he commanded.

Fortunately, I knew enough of his ballets to come up with a few combinations. I played music to reflect a range of moods needed for the book. Bach. Ahmad Jamal. Nakai. No words, just sounds for Bill to decode with his body.

Children are extraordinary beings. They have an instinctive sensitivity that can spot a phony. Had our studio not been filled with intimacy and fun and love for the form, we could not have produced DANCE. And like dancers, for a picture book to succeed, one must go beyond the words and the images. Our studio was filled with joy. Bill danced. I photographed. Marshall rolled film. Estelle prayed.

Once all the photographs were developed, Bill came by my studio, and we went through everything. What to keep, what to throw out. Where’s the arc? The opening shot? The end? Choices. Any photograph that had perfect balletic form, Bill rejected. Those did not align with his choreographic philosophy.

“Oh, no! I love this picture.” 

“OUT!”

But we managed to pull together images that met our needs: Bill’s choreography, my photography, and a solid, fun story sequence that might make children want to dance.

The Words

We worked on the premise that dance is action and shape designed in space and time to express feelings and ideas. What does the dancer do? Warm up. Make lines. Make curves. Think. Feel. We took turns deciding a word here, a photograph there. Fly? Soar? Zoom? Whiz? We addressed aerodynamics: If you go up, you’ve got to come down. We changed the words and pictures again and again and again. 

And so, with all of these different elements coming together, we made DANCE.

To learn more, please visit Bill T Jones’s and Susan Kuklin’s websites.