Sandra Neels on Merce Cunningham

The dancer Sandra Neels danced with the Merce Cunningham Dance Company in the years 1963-1973, creating roles in such historic works as Variations V, How to Pass, Kick, Fall and Run (both 1965), Place (1966), Scramble (1967), RainForest and Walkaround Time (1968) – all works that have been revived since the closure of the Cunningham company in 2011. She was also in the Cunningham company’s epoch-making 1964 world tour, its first Museum Event (that year) and many of the Events that followed. She was in the first casts of Assemblage (1968), Canfield (1969), Tread, Second Hand, and Objects (1970), Landrover (1972), TV Rerun and Borst Park (1972), and Changing Steps (1973); she was in the company when both Viola Farber departed in 1965 (though Farber returned in 1970) and when Carolyn Brown departed in 1972; she was in the company when Cunningham began, in the early 1970s, to turn his attention to camera, television, video, and film. 

Having left in 1973, she returned to the company in 2004, helping to revive works from her era. I met her in 2008. This questionnaire has been assembled from many emails between September 2019 and February 2022. 

AM1. When did you first discover Merce's work? And did you discover his teaching or his choreography first? 

SN1.I read something that Merce said in a small paperback book entitled The Seven Lively Arts, in which he asked himself, while in his small apartment, "What does this all mean?” His answer was “This is where I live." 

That statement made an impact on me. Then I began to look for photos of his company in books, and discovered that the dancers looked a lot like me (tall and thin).  

AM2. What was your previous dance experience? What if anything prepared you for Merce’s work?

SN2. My previous dance experience was tap (from the beginning), then Russian Ballet, and a short experience with Modern (Martha Nishitani in Seattle and Perry Mansfield Summer Session with all techniques). 

When I arrived in NYC, Merce and Company were on tour and the studio was closed, so I went to the New Dance Group and studied with Donald McKayle[1] as well as ballet at the Joffrey School.

AM3.What kind of ballet and/or modern training did you have? 

SN3.I had Russian classical ballet with Nicholas Vasilieff in Portland, Oregon, and then studied ballet at the Joffrey School and Richard Thomas in NYC.  

AM4. Did you take Merce’s classes before you watched his choreography? Or vice versa?

SN4. I took Merce’s classes before I watched his choreography.

AM5. Merce’s work made an exceptional use of the back. Can you compare this to any of the previous teachers you had had? If you studied Graham, how did the two methods compare for you?

SN5.  I had a couple of Graham classes in NYC and despised the floor work. I found Merce’s use of the spine organic and comfortable.

AM6. Over the decades, many Cunningham dancers needed to take ballet class (with Antony Tudor, Margaret Craske, Janet Panetta, Maggie Black, whoever) as well as Cunningham class. Did you, while you were dancing with Merce? If so, with which teacher(s)? Can you speak of how one helped the other, if it did?

SN6. I always took ballet classes when I was with Merce: Joffrey Ballet, Richard Thomas, one with Finis Jhung. I couldn’t imagine doing the Cunningham work without daily ballet classes. 

AM7. Some longterm watchers of the Cunningham company – including Cunningham company dancers and/or teachers – feel that, around the time of Torse (1976), the use of the back in Cunningham technique and choreography grew permanently less profound and complex. (They connect this to Merce’s own increasingly limited capacity, coupled with the new kind of speed he was demanding in Torse and Sounddance.) 

Your memories and/or thoughts about this from observing the company in later years?

SN7. I left the company at the end of 1973. I never saw the company after that - until 2003 when, at the request of Robert Swinston[2], I returned to coach the company in Suite for Five and How to Pass, Kick, Fall and Run. After that I began reconstructing eight pieces, all of which I restaged in New York City - and one in Seattle for Donald Byrd’s company. I am still working on the remainder of Objects.

AM8. Which aspects of Cunningham technique were hardest for you to master? 

SN8. The most difficult aspect of Merce’s technique and choreography was standing on one leg with the other leg in various positions for a very long time.

AM9. Many Cunningham dancers found his classes as challenging for the mind as for the body. Your thoughts and memories?

SN9. Merce’s classes and choreography were always challenging for my mind.

AM10. When you came to Cunningham, Carolyn Brown and Viola Farber – founder members of the company - were already there, helping to set the standard. Some dancers found them inspiring, others impossibly daunting. And some were excited that Cunningham dance theatre included both, so that even quite basic movements could be interpreted in at least two different ways – Carolyn’s and Viola’s. Merce himself was another exemplar, of course. 

Can you speak of these three and their effect on you as you found your way into the repertory? Were there other Cunningham dancers who inspired or excited you?

SN10. Merce, Carolyn, and Viola each had different ways of explaining the Cunningham technique. Merce didn’t talk much, he just demonstrated. Carolyn was analytical, and Viola’s use of the spine was the most difficult to read (because she was never still – always restless). Judith Dunn’s classes helped me. Merce was the most inspiring of all.

AM11. Carolyn has often said that Merce “never did steps”. She admits, however, that she herself “did steps”. I hope you understand the distinction she is making. 

It seems to me that Cunningham dance theatre has always included performers of both types – those who show you pure movement, and those who draw you into the precise execution of the movement/steps. Does this makes sense to you? 

If so, can you say what kind of a dancer you were when it came to steps? 

SN11. When it came to steps, I was in my area of expertise, having had such a long training in tap. I was able to conquer the pure movement area because of my Russian ballet training; therefore, I would have to say that I was both a “steps” and “pure movement” dancer. Robert Swinston once told me that he had to see a “shrink” because of Merce’s “steps.”

AM12. Many Cunningham dancers have spoken of his work’s musicality. Am I right to assume that, since as a rule it was not responding to music, it itself felt like music to do?

SN12. Merce’s work was definitely musical.

AM13. But there are many kinds of musicality in dance. Was Merce’s musicality to do with rhythm, melody, more? Certainly some Cunningham dancers speak of the “song” in Merce’s work – many speak of the rhythms – and one adds “My head was full of sonatas, songs, rhythms, while I danced!”

SN13. I think that Merce’s work was full of rhythms. He constantly snapped his fingers during out rehearsals in order to promote the rhythms he wanted. I can still hear him snapping out the rhythm of the fast dance from Scramble.

AM14. Today, the only extant Cunningham piece that is musically responsive is Septet (Satie, 1953). Does this exemplify Merce’s musicality for you? 

  Among those who’ve danced it, one remembers its musicality as “a bit corny”. But that dancer liked, as did others, the musicality of another Cunningham-Satie dance, Nocturnes(1956), which Merce kept in repertory well into the Sixties. Did you dance this? Do you remember it and, specifically, its musicality? 

SN14. I danced in both Septet and Nocturnes, although I was not the first cast as I was not even in NYC when those dances were choreographed. I danced Viola’s part in both of them. 

Yes, they were definitely “to the music,” “musically responsive.” and John and David played live for our rehearsals and performances. I loved those pieces.  Nocturnes was also “It just wasn’t to the extent that Septet was:sometimes the dance moved through the music instead of on every beat. I even performed in Nocturnes (Viola’s part) right after I had been mugged badly in the city and had a black eye and my head sewn up. I had a duet with Merce, and when he turned me upside down, I thought my brains were going to spill out on the stage. 

I was in the first cast of Second Hand, and I heard of the Socrate connection[3] second hand from Carolyn. Merce, as was typical, never told us what his ballets were “about;” he just taught us the movement and timing and said “Okay, let's go.”The movement did not relate to the Cage's Cheap Imitationscore. We rehearsed mostly with timing, and then John came in and played the piano. I loved it too.

AM15. Most of your repertory was not, as far as we know, devised to any music. What different kinds of musicality do you remember from the works you danced?

SN15. I remember that even the adagios seemed to have a rhythm – again, with Merce’s snapping his fingers during rehearsals. The “steps” seemed to relate to tap rhythms much of the time.

AM16. Generally, Merce’s choreography is strikingly metric with cleanly articulated rhythms. But his later “computer” work (1993-2007) included sequences when he asked dancers to concentrate on phrasing rather than counts. To at least one of these later dancers, he held up Billie Holiday as the model of phrasing and the way she would take a note and bend it. Did you ever know him talk this way in your era?  

SN16. Never. This is completely new information.

AM17. Do you remember him talking about music and/or musicians? If so, what and whom?

SN17. No. Never.

AM18. All this is separate from Cunningham’s actual music. Which composers, which musicians, and which scores do you remember best, in positive and/or negative ways?

I will ask more about aspects of this later.

SN18. The worst was the composition for Winterbranch(1964), as it was ear-splitting and made it difficult to balance. Often, Carolyn would tell Merce and John that the decibel levels of the sounds made her lose her balance. I agreed. 

AM19. Part of the thrill of Cunningham choreography is to do with its singular way with space: multi-directional. In which pieces do you remember this being most striking in one way or another or several? 

SN19. I loved the way Merce used the space in all of the pieces I performed, particularly Landrover.

AM20. Despite Merce’s always saying “Wherever you are facing, that is front”, some of his choreography seems to show a strong sense of the audience as “front”. Do you agree? If so, where do you most remember this?

SN20. I agree that the audience was “front”, regardless of where I was placed onstage. In the Events, this was different, as we often had the audience on all sides.

AM21. Merce himself often struck people as being a remarkable actor; he also struck many of his dancers (not just Carolyn) as “knowing the story” of every piece he danced. What are your own memories of this? And what are your thoughts about it?

SN21.  I would agree in part Carolyn with the following “stories:" (in chronological order) Septet (1953), Nocturnes (1956), Antic Meet (1958), Night Wandering (1958), Paired(1964), Second Hand (1970), Landrover (1972), Borst Park(1972), and his early solos like Root of an Unfocus (1944) and Changeling (1957). 

I would never say that Merce knew the stories of all his pieces; however, I would say that he had inspiration for all of his pieces, which sometimes came from the collaborations he was involved with. I think that he created RainForest from watching Barbara Lloyd play on the floor with her young son. 

AM22. Probably we can call all Cunningham choreography a form of drama, including such ultra-pure works as Suite for Five. This is not drama as character-acting; this is the drama of contrast and rigour. In general, I suspect that Merce instinctively was always thinking about dance as drama. Cage liked to say that any street corner was theatre. And Cunningham was interested in diverse forms of theatre, from vaudeville to Artaud: the Greeks, Shakespeare, Chekhov, Wilde, Mayakovsky – all interested him. Where did you most feel Merce extended our (or your) idea of drama? 

SN22. I think that he extended his sense of drama in (chronological order) Root of an Unfocus, Nocturnes, Changeling, Antic Meet, Night Wandering, Rune (1959), Crises (1960), Aeon (1961), Winterbranch (1964), Variations V (1965), Place (big time!) (1966), Scramble (1967), RainForest (1968), Canfield (1969), Second Hand, Objects (1970), and Landrover (1972).

AM23. Did Merce teach you any aspects of theatrical projection? (Carolyn says “No”, but in the Nineties he told some dancers “Put a friend in the house, dance for him or her.”)

 SN23. No. Never.

AM24. One of the central debates between such dancers as Carolyn and Valda has been about seeking narrative or not within the movement. What path did you take? 

SN24. I never sought a narrative in any of the pieces I performed. I just tried to perform the movement the best I could possibly do, given all the challenges.

AM25. Carolyn, though saying and writing that Merce’s dances had (usually unknown) subject-matter, has admitted that there are some Cunningham works that were, for her, just about their own movement. 

Conversely, Valda, who says she did the movement for its own sake, has spoken of Antic Meet and How to Kick, Pass, Fall and Run as works that need some extra sense beyond the movement: Antic Meet needs something like a sense of deadpan satire while How to Pass, Kick needs to be “like champagne”. Any comments?

SN25. I agree with Valda.

AM26. Which older works did you dance? Septet? Suite for Five? Nocturnes? Summerspace? Antic Meet? Rune? Crises? Aeon? Winterbranch? Story?

SN26. All of them!

AM27. When did you join? 

SN27. I joined in the summer of 1963, accompanying the company to UCLA for a summer residency[3], and actually enrolling in Merce’s technique and composition classes.

AM28. Some of Merce’s 1963 works (Field Dances, Story) were as near to Judson Dance Theatre as he came. How aware were you of Judson’s work? Did you participate? 

SN28. I was very aware of the Judson Dance Theatre’s work because I was in it: I danced in the pieces by Elaine Summers, Bill Davis, and Freddie Herko, to name a few. At the time of learning Field Dances and Story, I actually didn’t compare those to what I had done in JDT. I was never in Robert Dunn’s composition class that led to the JDT, but I loved working with those choreographers.

AM29. How did you feel Merce compared to the Judson experimentalism you saw or shared?

SN29. I thought that Merce’s work had much more set choreography. It was also much more interesting.

AM30. You came to the Cunningham company when Rauschenberg was resident. How well did you know him?

SN30. I knew Bob very well as he was always on tour with us, and often in the studio.

AM31. What are your memories of Rauschenberg dance theatre when he was there helping to make it? How do you remember his chemistry with Merce, both in person and in art?

SN31. Bob had a wonderful entry in the Armory Show called Pelican (1963)[5]which was a solo for Carolyn Brown. He and Steve Paxton had some other pieces in that show that was very clever. The chemistry between Merce and Bob seemed great until the World Tour.

AM32. On that world tour, you danced in the first Event. Your memories?

SN32. My memories of the first Event in Vienna were: it was very difficult to dance on terrazzo floors; the exhibit at the time of Klimt and Schiele was amazing; the audience seemed absolutely enthralled.

AM33. What for you were the main highs of the 1964 world tour? 

SN33. The main highs of the world tour were experiencing the very different audience responses. I loved dancing everywhere except Germany where the audiences were very disruptive, especially in Cologne.

AM34. What for you were the main lows of the world tour?

SN34. The main lows of the world tour were just being able to adjust to new food and water – trying to stay well, in order todo the work. India was the most difficult. 

Also, one of the main lows for me was how many of the company members were disrespectful toward Merce. They complained constantly, and even boycotted his classes. 

AM35. How often do you remember Merce teaching class on that tour? Albert’s memory, I think, is that, apart from a couple of demonstration classes for the audience, there was no company class on that tour: everyone had to fend for themselves. Your memories?

SN35. Merce often taught company class on the world tour – just not before performances. Many of the company boycotted his classes for various reasons. One time, Albert and I were the only ones in his company class. I was horrified at the behavior of the other company members.

AM36. What for you were the main lessons of the world tour?

SN36. The main lesson of the world tour for me were:figuring out how to stay well and healthy in order to perform; adapting to the constant changes; staying positive and loyal to Merce through all the chaos.

AM37. The world tour was when Rauschenberg detached himself from the Cunningham enterprise. Your feelings about this? 

SN37. I was extremely surprised and hurt by Rauschenberg dividing the company the way he did. The day in Tokyo, when Merce gathered all of us together to ask who was going to remain with him back in NYC was extremely painful. I would have never left Merce in a million years. He was the most important person in my life and career, and I would have never crossed him in any way. I am sure he knew this at that time. I stood near him like a protector.

AM38. Others left with Rauschenberg at the end of that tour (Steve Paxton, Deborah Hay, Alex Hay). How great a sense of loss did you feel?

SN38. I did and didn’t feel a sense of loss when the company broke up because there was so much conflict, and I felt that Merce had lost control as the primary leader of the company. It all started when Bob won the Venice Biennale. After that, wherever we traveled. Bob seemed to be the one that everyone gravitated toward, including reporters and the media at airports.

AM39. And when the world tour ended, you remained. Do you now feel the Cunningham company significantly changed after 1964? Or was it essentially the same in 1965 as it had been?

SN39. I felt that the company did change after the World Tour because it was comprised of the dancers who really wanted to be there and work with Merce and John.

AM40. You danced in Variations V (1965), which on film/DVD remains one of the great amalgams of Dadaism, Zen, Cageism, and much more. Your feelings?

SN40. I danced the first performance in VV in much pain, because I had severely sprained my ankle three days before the first performance and didn’t really know how I would be able to walk. It was in a rehearsal onstage when Gus pulled me up into a saut de chat from a squat position, and I somehow landed crookedly. Merce was also in pain as he had missed grabbing onto a bar while bicycling out on stage right at the end. His back was in bad shape. Somehow we both performed the premiere. 

When I finally healed, I enjoyed performing this piece a lot. I loved my solo and all the duets with the guys.

AM41. And you were in Place (1966), which, as revived in 2017, seemed one of Merce’s great dramas, a dark piece about alienation. Your memories?

SN41. I loved Place, and up until the first performance, like the other dancers, I thought it was a light piece because it had a lot of folk-dancey parts. Then when we all saw Merce crawl into a plastic bag and writhe around at the end, I thought it was pretty gruesome. The dark lighting was also a surprise. I loved the plastic dresses and I loved my “angel balance” on Albert’s stomach while he was in a backbend, just because I never was sure it would work.

AM42. You created a role in Scramble, with a solo that’s still danced today. Your memories?

SN42. I loved my solo in Scramble. I really had to grow into it. I think I mentioned the “weight” factor in an earlier question.

AM43. How singular a work was RainForest (1968) within the Cunningham repertory you knew? 

SN43. RainForest was a totally different kind of work for Merce. I remember that Yvonne Rainer, after viewing the first performance, said “Well, that set modern dance back 30 years.” I didn’t agree at all, and I loved the movement. 

The Warhol pillows, however, had a mind of their own. They would always not only be in the way, but the lines holding them would tangle around our legs and feet sometimes, and trail around after us onstage. I finally arrived at the thought that they were performers as well, and I should respect them – not complain. I was horrified during our performance for the Shah’s wife in Persepolis, when they all took off into the Iranian sky.

AM44. What are your memories of Walkaround Time(1968)? 

SN44. I loved the Duchamp/Johns painted bags, and I loved my slow long distance run section. It was not a piece that “grabbed” the audience, however.

AM45. Walkaround Time is a work about Marcel Duchamp’s work. Did Merce speak about Duchamp either there or in other contexts?

SN45. Merce adored Marcel. He and John played chess with Marcel and his wife, Teeny, around the world. A few years ago when I visited Spain with my good friend, Jerri Kumery(former NYCB dancer), we went to a small café on the coast and sat at the very table where the four of them had played chess. There was even a plaque on the wall next to their table.

AM46. Solos and soloism are pretty near the core of Cunningham dance theatre. What solos did Merce make for you? And what other solos did you inherit? 

SN46. I had a lot of solos made for me in: Variations V, How to Pass, Kick, Fall and Run, Scramble, RainForest, Walkaround Time, Canfield, Objects, Landrover, Borst Park. And I inherited solos in Crises, Winterbranch, and I’m not sure about Nocturnes and Rune.

AM47. And can you talk about soloism in Cunningham? Where does it take you in mind and body?

SN47. At first, I was terrified of having a solo at all, but as I began to accumulate solos that he made for me, I realized they were such that I had to grow into them. Mainly, I just tried to do the movement the best I could possibly do. They were all challenging in different ways, but primarily technically. I was honored to have a solo at all. Landrover was my favorite, as it was so rhythmic and fast. I never thought of any of them as particularly intellectual. I was just aware of “the meaning is in the movement,” and concentrated on that.

AM48. Merce spoke of dance as “a spiritual adventure in time and space”. Can you speak about this in your own experience?

SN48. In some cases, depending upon the piece, I definitely felt this, particularly in Suite, Nocturnes, Aeon, Scramble, Place, RainForest, Canfield, and Second Hand.

AM49. One particular form of drama in Merce’s work occurs in the male great male-female duets he made. Can you talk about your experience and/or observation of these? 

SN49. I think that Merce had particular drama in the duets he had with Carolyn in Suite (for Five), with Carolyn in Night Wandering; with Viola in Crises and Nocturnes; and with Barbara Lloyd in RainForest; as well as with me in Second Hand and Borst Park.

AM50. Jasper Johns was and is a very different character from Rauschenberg. How well have you ever known him?

SN50. Jasper Johns was very difficult to know, as he was exceptionally quiet and reclusive. One time, we were all invited to his home, which had been a bank on Canal Street, I think; he was much more accessible at that time. I always loved his work. 

Later, I discovered that he had once been in love with someone from Columbia, SC, who I had worked with at the SC Governor’s School during the summers: Ann Brodie, an exceptional ballet teacher (she had trained a number ofdancers who wound up in either the NYC Ballet or ABT). He had given her some of his art work, which she showed me when I visited her home.

AM51. How would you compare Cunningham-Rauschenberg dance theatre to Cunningham-Johns dance theatre?

SN51. I think that Merce worked much more easily with Johns, and that their collaboration was more successful in the long run. 

Bob always had his own ideas, and sometimes (like in the World Tour performances of Story and Winterbranch) they really collided. Bob once appeared onstage ironing something upstage, which Merce was “pissed” about. Merce never elected to actually getting into an argument with Bob, however. Bob also was creating much of the lighting, and often we were totally in the dark (Winterbranch), which was dangerous.

AM52. The chemistry between Jasper and Merce interests me. This summer, one Cunningham colleague has described Jasper as “always a soothing presence” for Merce, whereas another, remembering Jasper’s sparing use of words as something being occasionally frightening, added “I think even Merce was sometimes scared of Jasper”. Your thoughts and memories?

SN52. I never noted that Merce was afraid of anyone. I do recall that once, while we were the guests in the home of Marianne Preger, that he revealed that he had a murderer’s thumb, and that he might be afraid of his own anger. Johns was a soothing presence for all of us. We all respected and loved him, feeling that he was the reclusive member of our family. Johns was never intrusive, whereas Bob was adamant about his own work having significance in whatever project in which he might be engaged.

AM53. What do you recall of Canfield (1969)?

SN53. I recall that the airplane lights in the large steel piece moving across the front of the stage, felt like my costume was going to be burned off. Canfield was an uncomfortable piece to perform for this reason.

AM54. And Tread (1970)?

SN54.  I adored Tread, as it was a breeze to perform. Very light and happy…

AM55. We now know that Merce made Second Hand (1970) to Satie’s music for Socrate, but never let you hear that. Did you think of it as a “dramatic” piece before you heard of its Socratic content?

SN55. Yes, I thought of it as a dramatic piece because of the movement.

AM56. Did you ever dance in Signals (1970)? How do you remember this work?

SN56. No, I never performed in Signals. I thought that Merce made this work for Susana.

AM57. Your memories of Objects (1970)?

SN57.  My memories of Objects were mostly that the dancers objected to the objects and the fact we had to mime playing jacks in the piece. I loved dancing it, however. Doug Dunn and Carolyn constantly complained.

AM58. And Landrover (1972)?

SN58. I loved Landrover. I even received an individual good review from Tom Borek. I loved the movement and how different the sections were from each other.

AM59. TV Re-Run (1971)?

SN59. Well, I recall that TV Re-Run was right up there with Field Dances as being a truly boring piece to perform. There was not much to the movement, and it felt like a “filler piece” for a larger program. We wore white leotards and black tights, and the women’s hair did not have to be in a bun. It did not take much energy at all to perform. Merce seemed to enjoy it, however, as he always seemed to be smiling.

AM60. In 1972, you created a role in Borst Park. Borst Park is the name of an actual park in Merce’s home town, Centralia. His notes[6] for this Borst Park seem mainly to be taken from an initial planning/structure/idea stage: you couldn’t begin to reconstruct it from them. It’s remembered as one of Merce’s light, funny pieces. But “Love and rape” occur on two pages of his notes.[7] Does this ring any bell at all?

SN60.  I don’t have any recollection of a mention of “love and rape,” as that seems totally odd to me. 

Here is what I do remember. Our rehearsals were fun and even silly at times; there was a rubber chicken that Merce pulled out of a picnic basket when we were supposed to be actually having a picnic; I seemed to be the one dancing with Merce, more than anyone else in this piece; Nanette Hassell, the Australian dancer who was with us a short time, seemed to delight in the nonsense; I cannot recall a single piece of choreography that I performed other than the drop in grand plié in first, which Merce holding me under my arms (this is a photo that showed up in Jim Klosty’s book[8]). The piece did not stay in the repertory for long, perhaps because it was maybe too nonsensical. I know that Merce enjoyed our rehearsals, however. The rest of the company seemed to stick up their noses at the piece. I didn’t care. I had fun. I loved dancing with Merce.

But it could be that it was in rehearsal for Borst Park that Merce told us a story about his girlfriend Louise in Seattle that cracked us all up. The story about her revolved around her walking along the campus of the University of Washington in Seattle alone one night. Apparently, a guy jumped out of the bushes and exclaimed “I’m going to rape you!” Louise then said “Oh, how marvelous!” This threw him off and they wound up going out for coffee.

 AM61. His notes for Borst Park also have lists of ingredients that include “water”, “earth”, later “fire” – but also the word “odious”. Usually in his notes, “odious” refers to the nine or eight permanent emotions of Indian art, the rasas https://www.britannica.com/art/rasa : he refers to these- often with the word “odious” - in pieces of his from the Fifties to the Eighties.[9]

 SN61.As for the word, “odious,” which you mentioned shows up in Merce’s notes, I had no knowledge of that whatsoever. If Merce actually used those emotions from Indian Art in his choreography, I would have thought that they may have appeared in Antic Meet. 

AM62. You say you left the company at the end of 1973. Can you say why?

SN 62. I left because I was at the peak of my performing career, and he was just using me to teach incoming dancers the repertoire. I didn't feel valued. 

AM63. How well did you know John Cage? One Cunningham colleague has recently said “You were either a Merce person or a John person. Carolyn was a John person; I was a Merce one.”

I don’t accept that either/or distinction. (Marianne Preger was both a Merce person and a John one, whereas she has almost no memories of Rauschenberg and Johns.) But it’s true that some dancers were on John’s wavelength more than others. You? 

SN63. I was on both Merce’s and John’s “wavelength.” True, I could actually have a conversation with John at any time, buthesitated to speak with Merce at all. 

In the beginning, however, before I was in the company, I served as one of Merce’s costumers, and often spent time in the studio with him along, measuring, etc.. I sewed the Nocturnes men’s white shirts. At that time, Merce was very talkative and jolly with me. 

Once I was in the company, I had a very different relationship with him of just another one of the dancers. Carolyn and Viola spoke with him normally, I would say. Merce and Shareen Blair had a rocky relationship, because she was always asking for more to do. When she advised me to do the same one time, it was disastrous and Merce didn’t even speak or look at me for months. 

AM64. Again, can you describe the scores to which you danced - and your feelings about them? When did they actively enrich Cunningham dance theatre? Did they ever significantly detract from it?

SN64. The sound – I won’t call it “music” – definitely detracted from most of Merce’s pieces when I was in the company. People ran out of the theatre during some of our performances because of the sound – especially Winterbranch. 

The pieces that were fine with the audience were Septet, Suitefor Five, Nocturnes, Summerspace, Antic Meet, Crises, Aeon, RainForest, Second Hand, Landrover, and Borst Park. How To Pass, Kick, Fall and Run was okay because the piece was accompanied by John or David Vaughan telling stories while drinking champagne.

AM65. How well did you know David Tudor? Can you describe him? How much weight did he carry in the Cunningham operation? 

SN65. I knew David Tudor as a quiet member of the electronic orchestra on tour. I did see him in the studio playing the piano together with John for the Satie pieces.

AM66. RainForest was his first Cunningham composition. Did this create a change in him?

SN66. I think that David was quite proud of his composition for RainForest. It was gentle and pleasant – like him. I didn’t notice a change, however.

AM67. Cunningham dancers and colleagues of the 1970s and 1980s feel that Merce often predetermined the characters of certain pieces just by his choice of composer and designer. In particular, they would all think in advance, “Oh, David Tudor’s the composer – so this one will be one of Merce’s dramas.” Was that apparent to you with Tudor’s early compositions? 

SN67.  I think that I already answered this question in part. I do think that Merce was inspired by the work of his colleagues. I never thought that I heard any of the dancers name a composer beforehand. 

AM68. Or did you feel that way with any other of Merce’s composers or designers? Could you tell Merce already had an idea about the character of the piece by the creative colleagues he had chosen?

SN68.  I knew that with Walkaround Time he was going to be working intensely with Jasper Johns. I also knew that he had seen Andy Warhol's Silver Clouds and asked if he could use them in a piece (RainForest). 

Yes, I do think that he had some of the dancers in mind for roles in his various pieces. He certainly was fixated on Barbara Lloyd for the lead in RainForest, as I already mentioned. Carolyn was the one dance who often received solos or duets. He gave me great solos and duets in Scramble, Tread, Landrover, Walkaround Time, Canfield, and several others.

AM69. And did you feel that Merce’s classes changed when he knew he was preparing a new work?

SN69.  Only in terms of new combinations which occurred after the warm-up.

AM70. Did you feel that the basics of Cunningham technique changed while you were with the company?

SN70. No.

AM71. You yourself have begun researching the history of Cunningham technique. So far, what are your impressions of how it developed or changed before your time?

SN71. The arms changed for the set exercises, primarily.

AM72. We’ve been speaking of Cunningham repertory, but there were many Events. Many of these were in unconventional non-theatrical locations; and almost all of them placed known dances in new aural and design contexts. Can you speak of how you felt about Events? Some dancers liked them least, some loved them especially.

SN72. I was just “okay” with the Events. Sometimes they were in very difficult sites such as the Piazza San Marco in Venice, the museum in Vienna, and countless university and college gymnasiums with hard floors. I sometimes thought that Merce created them as a relief from having to perform full pieces.

AM73. Merce was not good with all company dancers. With some, he grew remote and formal the moment they joined the company, even if he had been friendly when they were students. Others found him painfully withholding of any kind of human connection or consideration, consistently. Most or all dancers saw he could have black moods (David Vaughan confirmed this), and some remember him as having occasional outbursts of real temper. (He apparently fired the whole company in the middle of one French tour. It didn’t last.) 

What are your memories of these darker sides of Merce?

SN73. Merce was definitely moody, and withholding, when I was in the company. Before I was in the company, however, as earlier reported, he was “normal” toward me. I always perceived him as being reclusive, and preferring to dance in the studio or onstage alone. During some of the partnering with me, he could be very rough, especially in RainForest.

AM74. Merce gave whodunits to Carolyn and Valda. Did you know this? Have you ever asked or thought about any connection between his work and crime fiction?

SN74. I had no idea there were any references to crime fiction. Much later, in the 2000s, I discovered that he loved the films with William Powell and Myrna Loy – Nick and Nora in The Thin Man series – so I gave him a boxed set of their films.

AM74. I don’t mean he was referring to crime fiction in any dances, but he liked Margery Allingham’s whodunits well enough to give copies to those two women.

He was anyway quite a reader. What are your memories of the books he read?

SN74. I know that he read the work of Octavio Paz, Marshall McLuhan, and Buckminster Fuller; but I didn’t know what else he was reading when I was in the company.

AM75. And what are your memories of his interest in other arts – film, paintings, architecture, whatever?

SN75. Merce was interested in all of the other arts.

AM76. He had said to Kirstein in 1940 “I really like all kinds of dancing.” This was true. His dance enthusiasms included Astaire, Balasaraswati, Soledad Barrio (flamenco), Danilova, Fonteyn, Kathakali, Markova, Ulanova, and others. Your memories?

SN76. This is completely true: he did love all kinds of dancing.

AM77. He was also a master of secrets. (He taught himself Russian while touring with the company - and years later wrote to Baryshnikov in perfect Cyrillic script.)

What other secrets about Merce took you by surprise when you discovered them?

SN77. I had no idea about his learning the Russian language. Merce was very secretive, always. 

I did know that he loved champagne, because one time when there was a company party in the 14th Street studio, I caught sight of him hiding in a remote hallway, guzzling a bottle of champagne. [10] He loved old films, especially French noir.

AM78. Did you meet any members of his family? Memories? Or what do you remember him saying about them?

SN78. Yes, I met his eccentric mother once, and she looked like an older-shorter version of him. She was very funny.

AM79. In particular, what do you remember him saying about his mother, father, and two brothers? 

He once admitted to a friend in the 1970s that he “hated” his mother and that she was 50% of why he had got out of his home town; in general, he spoke fondly of her, but this fits some other evidence. His father may have puzzled or distressed him on one point, but otherwise seems to have won his affection and respect. His brothers seem to have irritated him (but he loved their children). Any recollections?

SN79. Merce spoke admiringly of his mother always, saying that she loved to travel the world while his father sat home in the garden. I also heard that it was because of his mother that,during the world tour, we were able to perform for the King and Queen of Thailand. Apparently, his mother had met them and told them that they should see her son’s company perform.

AM80. Merce’s effect on women was something. Marianne Preger’s book[11] describes the powerful feeling she had on the one occasion they shared a hotel room. Valda once told me that the experience of being partnered by Merce had an intensity comparable to a profound sexual experience. I have sometimes thought of Merce as a “closet heterosexual”, which makes sense to some of the women who knew him. Your thoughts?

SN80. I definitely thought that Merce loved women. Yes, I could definitely see what Viola described while being partnered by him. I never saw anything sexual in his partnership with Carolyn Brown (the Ice Queen[12]). I never felt anything sexual with him when I was being partnered. I never saw him being attracted to any of the men in the company either. I sort of thought of him as asexual.

AM81. Certainly there were women in Merce’s past. I’ve spoken to one who had an important affair with him in 1938-43, Joyce Wike; she and others thought there were other women. Jane Dudley referred to the period, perhaps c. 1942,when he was “chasing skirts”. 

One woman friend from those early years was the heiress Nancy Oakes, who by her third husband became Nancy Oakes Tritton. She’s important because in 1942 she and Merce were both attending the School of American Ballet and studying modern dance. In 1943, on her way to Bennington, Merce broke the news to her that her father had been murdered in Nassau, the Bahamas, a very celebrated murder case. In 1964, she took Margot Fonteyn to see the Cunningham company at Sadler’s Wells; in 1968, she and her husband Patrick Tritton gave a party for the Cunningham company in their palatial mansion in Mexico City. In later years, she also gave parties for the company in London. Both Laura Kuhn and Trevor Carlson remember that, after John’s death, Merce said this same Nancy Oakes would propose marriage to him on an almost annual basis up to her death in 2005. 

What memories if any do you have of her? Or comparable women?

SN81. I never knew about any of this, except the parties that Nancy gave during the time I was in the company. They were great. 

Merce often spoke of Sage Cowles when the two of them took ballet classes at the School of American Ballet[13]. He also spoke endearingly of Tanny LeClerq, as he choreographed for her in The Seasons (1947)[14]. He loved the little cap that Sage wore all the time in class. Later, when Sage was in Westbeth watching rehearsals, he was always very upbeat and flirtatious. I never saw him behave that way before Sage.

Merce loved women; I’ve already told you the story about his girlfriend Louise in Seattle that cracked us all up. I doubt he had any affairs with the company women when I was there, however. I had thought that he had been in love with Viola – especially after the first time I saw Crises.

I never heard him mention any other female names he had been with. 

AM82. David (Vaughan) and Carolyn told me in 1999 of the young man from Seattle who studied at the Cunningham Studio whom they suspected of being Joyce’s Wike’s lovechild by Merce. 

Joyce told me in 2000 that no, he was neither Merce’s child nor hers but was (I hope I’ve got this right!) the son of her second husband by his first marriage, and that he and Merce used to laugh together about the speculations of David, Carolyn, et al. about his paternity. Then, however, Joyce told me that she thought Merce might have had a son by another woman (“upstate”). 

I don’t want to go on about this, but there are as many as three different rumours of Merce having children. One of these rumours seems to have been spoken by Merce in his old age.

I’m not intending to devote too much space to this, but does it ring any bells with you?

SN82. Merce once told either Carolyn or Viola that he thought he had a son somewhere, which is how I knew about the rumor. I think that the “Louise” story happened when he was a student at Cornish, before Bennington, New York, etc.

AM83. John Cage’s ex-wife Xenia did not die until 1995. Did you ever encounter her? What can you say about her?

SN83. I never met Xenia. I only heard rumors about her being a witch from Alaska.

AM84. During your time with the company and subsequently into at least the 1970s, Merce pursued – made a pass at, whatever – a number of his male dancers. One of them (Jeff Slayton, who danced with the company in 1968-1970) has written about this[15] – sex took place, as it did with at least threeother men. In some other cases, Merce was unsuccessful. 

Most of these incidents were isolated. We could label them “sexual harassment” in this #MeToo age, but we’re unlikely to call them rape or to claim that he was punitive to men who did or did not oblige. 

But it’s a complex area. Would you like to say anything here?   

SN84. We called Merce’s adulterous behavior his “night wanderings.” I never saw or heard of John doing any of this. 

I knew that Merce was involved with Chris Komar very early on during the early 70s, and even bought him a beautiful leather jacket while we were on tour. I also knew that he was involved with Jeff Slayton before Jeff was taken into the company, because Jeff told me that he thought that it was the very reason he was in the company.

I never heard of Merce making passes at any of the dancers in the company, except perhaps Chris Komar. We all seemed to be treated basically the same except for Carolyn. Sometimes Merce and Valda had long conversations about cooking, and for that Valda seemed to receive special attention. 

AM85. You knew Merce in the 1960s, perhaps later. John died in 1992. How did you see Merce’s relationship with John change?

I don’t want to be unduly prurient about their relationship, but it certainly had its ups and downs, which I have to address. Here are some of the things I have to consider:-

(i) In 2019, Laura Kuhn published Dear Icebox, the surviving letters written in 1942-1946 by John to Merce. This ends with a letter that begins with the words: “Dearest Merce, That it would ever end, I never suspected, or could have believed. Your hating me is enough, I suppose…” 

(ii) Merce is known to have been adulterous on occasion with other men (and just possibly with women) and pursued other men unsuccessfully. Though few people know it and though it may have been rare, John made a pass (unsuccessfully) at some men, at least in the 1950s.

(iii) Until the 1964 world tour, very few within even the Cunningham operation realized that Merce and John were an item. That tour was when David Vaughan realized for the first time, as did others.

(iv) At some point in 1982-1984, Bonnie Bird told me she was flying to New York to help Merce and John through a bad patch in their relationship. (When she came back, however, she only spoke of helping Merce with his relations with the company at that time.)  

(v) Laura’s Selected Letters of John Cage includes a July 1987 letter to the Venezuelan playwright Isaac Chocrón (who had been a good friend to Merce and John since 1968):

“Travelling salesman returns the day after tomorrow + then off again on Saturday, 4 days later for another 3-4 week tour. We have no connection! I can hardly believe it after all these years. I will be away from 1st of Sep until Xmas. If he would just stay away completely, I could remember that I love him, but when he comes back + leaves the next minute for the studio, I know I don't. He has to do what he's doing. This is our Golden Anniversary. And I wouldn't know what to do with anyone else. Shall I just go away?”

(vi) At some point, probably in 1987, John first suspected and then discovered Merce was involved in some sexual way with Chris Komar. It’s likely the Cunningham-Komar affair had reignited in 1985. To one friend, John announced he was “Heartbroken”. One acquaintance even suspected that John died in 1992 of heartbreak. Nonetheless Merce certainly mourned and missed him. (Two or more subsequent pieces by Merce strongly seem to refer to John and/or the dead. Merce made some pieces to Cage scores and one to Cage designs. He performed in Cage’s An Alphabet, and loved quoting many of John’s highly original and witty statements.)

(vii) It’s believed that Merce and John went for an HIV test once Komar was diagnosed positive.

Can you add your own memories and comments to all this?

SN85. Some of the dancers in the company believed that John was too possessive – that he behaved as if he “owned” Merce. John was completely devoted to Merce when I was around. 

In my mind, Merce was like an animal, wanting to be free and unpossessed by anyone. He was often rude to John. I saw John in tears on more than one occasion. Merce was his own man, for sure. I never witnessed Merce and John showing any kind of affection toward each other when I was with the company. 

AM86. In the 1970s, Merce began to make an increasing issue of his seniority or age or even incapacity. In the 1980s and 1990s, that became yet more pronounced. Some found it very hard to take to watch Merce grow old in public. Your memories and thoughts?

SN86. I never watched the company over the years after I left. I later saw them in 2003 and beyond. I watched the duet (Occasion Piece, 1999) he did with Misha (Baryshnikov) on YouTube, and that was very painful to see. I think that Merce wanted to keep dancing as long as he could, despite his painful arthritis and age.

AM87. Charles Atlas joined the company while you were a member. Your memories of him and his rapport with Merce and the dancers? 

SN88. Charles Atlas, from my perspective, had great rapport with Merce, John, and the dancers. He was very easy-going and generally supportive.

AM89. It is astonishing how often Merce’s work contains doubleness of one kind of another: two different things going on at the same time, two layers of objective purity and/or actorly drama, two separate realms, punning titles. Any comment?

SN89. Many of the dances in which I performed had multiple things going on simultaneously. Events, of course, were made up of this phenomenon, to give the audiences choices of what to observe. I believe this came about because of Merce’s chance work, but I know that Merce liked giving audiences choices.

AM90. Did you ever see Merce using chance methods in dance composition?

SN90. Yes, since I was the only company member to actually take Merce’s composition class at UCLA, when the company was in residence.

AM91. Now and then, Merce would speak of ways in which he had used chance. He asked the dice to choose between high, medium, and low, for example. Do you remember him telling any such stories?

SN91. Actually, no.

AM92. Some dancers feel Merce certainly and visibly used dice or coins to determine aspects of an Event. Your memories?

SN92.I never saw him do this, but I believe he probably did use dice or coins to determine aspects of events.

AM93. We now know Merce kept a diary. (He later published the diary he kept of the 1964 world tour.) What did you know of this? Did you ever read it?

SN93. I never knew that Merce kept a diary.

AM94. Once Carolyn left, Merce changed much of his enterprise. He removed most of the dances he had made with her roles, he concentrated on Events for two years, he began to make work in film and video, he started to use a larger ensemble. How much were you aware of this at the time? 

SN94. I was only aware of the company doing more Events, and John had said that they were not interested in touring any longer. I left a couple of years after Carolyn, so I was not aware of him removing all of the dances in which she had roles. Of course, he removed her roles, but I was still, for instance, my roles in pieces he had made over the years during Events. I was aware of his interest in video, of course.

AM95. He made Changing Steps (1973), a useful piece from which he went on drawing in Events for the rest of his career. How did that piece feel at the time?

SN95. Changing Steps felt like a lot of other pieces he made with the usual fast footwork and complicated counts. 

I loved it, though. It felt amazing at the time in which I learned it. I was an original cast member, and loved its complexity and rhythmic trickiness. I could see that parts of this piece would be great for future “Events.”

AM96. When you left, after ten years, how did you feel?

SN96. After I left Merce, I felt kind of lost. I felt as if I had left my family, simply because the company had been my family for so long. I didn’t really know how to make my own schedule, as that had always really been made for me while I was in the company. Barbara Lias and I opened our own studio on lower Broadway and began having classes as well as choreographing.

AM97. Did he write you letters? Or send you postcards? 

SN97. Merce never wrote letters or postcards to me. I received nothing from him after I left the company. I think he felt betrayed.

AM98. Did Merce ever allow you to see the preparatory notes he made on a piece? To what extent did you understand them?

SN98. While I was in the company, Merce never allowed me to see any of his preparatory notes he made for his choreography.     

Later in 2003, when I began reconstructing/restaging his works, Robert Swinston gave me Merce’s notes. They were very difficult to decipher, except for the order he was working with at the time. As you know, he later changed the orders of his pieces for “Events.”

AM99. Merce loved to grumble about having to teach. He was nonetheless one of the great teachers, and remarkably inventive: people were electrified by what his classes did to their brains as well as their bodies. What are your memories of Merce himself as a teacher? And what are your memories of (your thoughts about) his reluctance to teach?

SN99. I knew that Merce hated to teach. His classes were mind-boggling and difficult. He often demonstrated exercises and combinations several ways, so that we weren’t sure what he actually wanted us to do. He became frustrated with us because he didn’t see what he thought he had demonstrated. Then, he would just look out of the windows instead of looking at us. We tried, but most often, did not please him. 

He would often show the same exercise or combination different ways, and then say to us “Well, look again,” and then show everything differently again. Once, after he had demonstrated a combination and said “And”, he looked out of the studio window the entire time we were dancing. When he heard the music stop, he turned to us and said, “Well, that was better.” He never saw us at all. 

I always felt that Merce was primarily interested in his own dancing. Nevertheless, I took class after class – even in the dark one time when Con Edison turned off the power.

AM100. At one level, Cunningham choreography, and perhaps Cunningham technique, are a profound reconfiguring of space and time. What are your best or richest memories of this?

SN100. I totally agree that Merce’s technique and choreography were a profound configuring of space and time, as well as design. I would have to say – particularly in terms of design and how he patterned combinations through space with constant changes in direction.

    The Cunningham Technique was ingenious as it addressed the warming up of the body equally between the legs and the torso. I loved every step of Merce’s choreography, as it was both highly technical and organic at the same time.

AM101. You taught Cunningham technique. When did you start? For how long did you do so? Please tell all.

SN101. I began teaching Merce’s technique in his studio very early on – maybe a year after I was in the company - in the 14th Street studio in 1965 (a building that we shared with The Living Theatre.). I actually asked him if I could teach what was then called “the fundamentals,” which the company coined “the funny mentals.” I was just happy to teach any level. 

After that, I wound up teaching the beginning and intermediate levels as the years went by. I knew he didn’t want to teach them, and especially after rehearsals all day. Sometimes, I would teach both the 4:30 and 6:00 class in a row. 

I taught a lot while I was in the company, both in the studio and on tour (when none of the other dancers wanted to do this). I have never stopped teaching this technique. (But I never taught company class, until I returned in 2003 to restage. Over the years, I have taught both strictly Cunningham and a mixture of techniques, depending upon where I happened to be working. This happened as a result ofthe particular population I would have in class. When I moved to the South, I taught what I termed “a lyrical Cunningham” technique with much more flow and movement of the torso – not so erect, you might say.)

AM102. For some dancers and some devotees, Cunningham dance fulfilled sides of themselves that otherwise or also sought out alternative philosophies or politics. For others, it introduced them to new insights into the spiritual life. Most Cunningham dancers were intelligent, and the teaching and choreography stimulated this. 

Your feelings about this Cunningham connection to brain and spirit?

SN102. Yes, I most definitely felt that my brain and spirit was involved in everything “Cunningham,” as he projected these entities in everything he taught or choreographed. This was anholistic experience altogether.

AM103. Gender. Merce was at his most relatively conventional in his presentation of the woman in many duets and in his insistence on heterosexuality in duets. (Remy Charlip was among those who were irked by this.)  

On the other hand, in the 1960s and probably before, he had established a greater parity (and indeed similarity) of the sexes than most Western choreographers had, with ensembles where men and women did very much the same steps. 

When you look back on your era, where do you remember Merce being (a) most advanced in terms of treatment of the sexes and (b) most orthodox?

SN103. I thought that Merce, in his choreography of duets, was fairly traditional in terms of the use of males and females. In the group sections of pieces, however, the movement was non-gender specific.

AM104. Merce could be ruthless. There were times when he wanted to get rid of a dancer who no longer interested him so that he could make room for a student or apprentice who did. Can you give examples?

SN104. He did sometimes ignore those dancers who didn’t interest him any longer. They would wind up either in small roles in new pieces, or not be included at all. I saw this happen with Yseult Riopelle, Louise Burns (who left and returned), and Nanette Hassell. I think it later happened with others.

AM105. When a dancer told Merce they were leaving the company, even after good careers, Merce could cold-shoulder him or her, unforgivingly, immediately refusing to speak to them. Do you have memories of this? How was he when you told him you were leaving?

SN105. I never personally told Merce that I was leaving the company. I just didn’t show up one January when the company was supposed to return. Someone told me later that he said “Well, I guess we can’t trust her any more.” 

I had given everything to performing his pieces, teaching, coaching new company members, etc. I most definitely felt unappreciated, especially since I had injured myself badly (being partnered by Merce) in the last “Event” studio performance at Westbeth. He never even asked me how I was when he saw me with ice on my ankle in the common area of the studio afterward.

AM106. On a very few occasions, Merce vetoed the costumes at the last minute. Did you ever experience or witness this?

SN106. When I was in the company, I never knew or heard about Merce vetoing any costumes.

AM107. How easy was it to maintain a friendship with Merce after you’d left the company?

SN107. There was no possibility of a friendship with Merce after I left the company; however, many years later in 2003 when I returned to NYC at the invitation from Robert Swinston to help with preparing the company for a Lincoln Center performance (Suite for Five, and How to Pass, Kick, Fall, and Run), Merce waved at me from far across the room after everyone had left the studio. I went to him and hugged him a lot. He even smiled and we talked a bit. From 2003 to his passing in 2009, we spoke a lot when he was watching me restage his work, first on the RUGS and then on the company.

AM108. Which co-dancers did you most value and/or admire (other than Carolyn and Merce)?

SN108. The dancers I admired while I was in the company were: Viola Farber, Steve Paxton, Barbara Lloyd, and Ulysses Dove.

AM109. What are your chief memories of sharing a stage with Merce?

SN109. Sharing a stage or even a site specific venue with Merce was always exciting for me. His animalistic way of moving was totally charismatic and exciting to “play off of.”

AM110. You told me once of how rooted in tap you felt Merce always was, something you shared. Can you describe this?

SN110. I will tell you, right away, that Merce's tap background had a lot to do with his rhythmic phrasing, and because my first dance background was tap also, I understood his footwork (steps) better than most.

I have always thought that the way that Merce produced his challenging, highly rhythmical combinations and choreography was completely rooted in his tap training. I thought this because my background was also in tap first and foremost before I studied Russian ballet.

AM111. Merce’s use of his voice, generally a calm baritone, could have a very powerful effective on those who knew him, because within its calm he knew how to convey moods and colours, not least when creating a work but also when dealing with non-dancing colleagues. He could give an objective instruction with a colour or a dynamic that flavoured it considerably. Thinking back, can you recall examples of this?

SN111. Absolutely! I never heard Merce raise his voice; in fact, sometimes I had difficulty hearing him. Even when I knew he was perturbed, I would see him retire to the wings, hold his head down, and squeeze his nose, as if trying to clear his head.

AM112. The world tour was just the first of many remarkable tours you had with the company. What travel memories do you most connect to Merce? 

SN112. The most amazing travel memories I have are the World Tour, then the South American tour, and France, the latter of which we toured over and over again.

AM113. Any other points you would like to make about him, his work, your collaboration?

SN113. Well, my life in the company was amazing and full of opportunities. I loved the classes, the rehearsals, the performances, the touring, and the chance to meet so many interesting people both nationally and internationally. (Pierre Cardin, the King and Queen of Thailand, the Shah’s wife, Octavio Paz, Buckminster Fuller, Marshall McLuhan, Klaus Wildenhahn, and of course, the many artists and composers who worked in collaboration with Merce and John.) It was exciting all the time, even the difficult times.

NOTES

1.Donald McKayle and Cunningham had worked together in the early 1950s.

2.Robert Swinston, dancing with the Cunningham company from 1980 to 2011, became Cunningham’s assistant in directing the company from 1996 onwards. AM.

3.Few Cunningham dancers, even in the original Second Hand cast, realized what Neels touches on here. Satie’s cantata Socrate was a work beloved by Cage and Cunningham since 1944, when Cunningham danced the first of its three parts as a new solo, Idyllic Song, as arranged by Cage for solo piano: this was the first of several dances he made to Satie music in 1944-1956. In 1969, he prepared to add the second and third parts of Socrate, but, during his preparations (his copy of the Satie score is in the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts), the Satie Estate intervened to veto the version of the score he hoped to use. Cage therefore made a new score, Cheap Imitation, that precisely followed the structure of the Satie cantata; Cunningham named the dance Second Hand. Nobody else knew of the Socrate connection at first. Carolyn Brown was dancing the central duet with Cunningham when a look of anguish on his face struck her; but when she mentioned this to Cage, he explained that the anguish was because Cunningham there identified with Socrates as he prepared to die. Very few others of the original cast realized the Satie connection, but it gradually became known. When Second Hand was revived in 2008, some dancers tried rehearsing it while listening to the Satie original on headsets. AM.

4.This is the 1963 UCLA residency that Margaret Jenkins describes in “Margaret Jenkins on Merce Cunningham”, published here on February 21, 2022. AM.

5. A minute of Rauschenberg’s Pelican, featuring Carolyn Brown, can be seen on YouTube.

6. Now kept in the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts.

7.One page has “love (1)” , “rape (2)”, and “abandon (3)” as no 4; no 6 on the same page has “love (1) + rape (2) simultaneous. Abandon follows”

Another page has, in a column on the right side, a vertical list of these words: “love” “rape” “abandon” “bravery” “party” “water” “earth” “ludus” “slow motion” “vigor” “exuberance” “odious” “Fire”. AM.

8.Merce Cunningham (1975), by James Klosty, Dutton Books. In 2019, a greatly expanded edition was published: Merce Cunningham Redux.

9.The Indian sage Bharata is said to have originated the Indian theory of rasas some two millennia ago. His theory was later developed around 1000 CE by the philosopher Abhinavagupta. According to this theory, the main human feelings are delight, laughter, sorrow, anger, energy, fear, disgust, heroism, and astonishment. AM.

Cunningham first addressed these nine “permanent emotions” on Indian aesthetics in Sixteen Dances for Soloist and Company of Three (1951); he returned to them occasionally in works up to at least Fabrications (1987). For him, they were “anger; the humorous; sorrow; the heroic; the odious; the wondrous; fear; the erotic; tranquility.” He seems to have had his own private (and significant) interpretation of “odious.”

It should not be assumed from all this that Cunningham meant to communicate these emotions to his audience. They may have been used simply as compositional tools. Patricia Lent has observed that in Fabrications, a work in whose premiere she danced and which she later reconstructed, only one of the permanent emotions is obviously intelligible and some are obscure and fleeting even when located. AM. 

10.Cunningham told me in 1996 that, when his (and John Cage’s) old friend Minna Lederman was dying the year before, he would visit her in hospital and produce a bottle of champagne. AM. 

11.Marianne Preger, Dancing with Merce Cunningham (Afterword by Alastair Macaulay), University of Florida Press, 2019. AM.

12.This nickname was applied to Brown by a number of people in the Cunningham enterprise. Some of them felt that the “ice queen” became a type that Cunningham welcomed in certain later women dancers. AM.

13.Sage Cowles (1925-2013), then Sage Fuller, took class at School of American Ballet in the early 1940s. Like Nancy Oakes, she also studied with Martha Graham. This double connection became the origin of Cunningham’s long and important friendship with her. She and her husband John Cowles Jr were Twin Cities philanthropists and advocates for the arts. She was a longterm member of Cunningham’s board, and served for four years as its co-chairperson. 

14.Remarkably, Cunningham appeared as a guest artist with Ballet Society and then New York City Ballet in 1947-1949 performances of The Seasons, in which he partnered Le Clercq: they were its lead couple. In 1949, in Paris, he made two further works for her, again partnered by him: Amores (a duet) and Effusions Avant L’Heure (a trio with Betty Nichols).

15.Jeff Slayton, Dancing Toward Sanity, 2014.

1: Sandra Neels - a recent photograph.

2: Sandra Neels in a 1960s revival of Merce Cunningham’s Nocturnes (1956), a work choreographed to Satie music and with designs by Robert Rauschenberg.

3: Sandra Neels dancing amid the Marcel Duchamp objects that were part of Jasper Johns’s decor for Merce Cunningham’s Walkaround Time (1968).

4: Left to right: Merce Cunningham, Valda Setterfield, Sandra Neels, probably late 1960s.

5: Sandra Neels in Merce Cunningham’s Landrover (1972). Carolyn Brown is directly behind her.