Becket — In the moments before Jeff Bliss takes to the proverbial stage for this summer’s final Families Dance Together class at Jacob’s Pillow, which is produced in partnership with the Becket Arts Center, a handful of young people frolic across the worn wood floors of the Sommers Studio. It is a change of venue which, by the commotion of feet slapping and kids leaping, no one seems to mind. A dozen kids are assembled, likely under the age of 8, and each has come with at least one family member. One child grips the barre and stands on tiptoes; another twirls about with her arms in the air; a few crawl on hands and knees, and then cartwheels erupt. Everyone’s feet are instantly filthy and the smiles are evidence of the abundant joy filling the space.
Bliss, in his role as Pillow artist educator, is celebrating his 15th anniversary at the helm of this intergenerational dance teaching at Jacob’s Pillow, one aimed at children and adults of all ages to encourage nontraditional family bonding through movement and dance making. At this particular moment, his work (during the summer months) has a laser-sharp focus: providing space for families to dance together.
“I do wish there were more ways, pedagogically, of parents stepping into learning about how to play with their kids,” said Bliss in an interview prior to last Friday’s class. He then launched into a fascinating discussion, one that hinged on a simple fact: “Expression of the body is lacking — [in large part due to] a Judeo-Christian ethic that is so much a part of the history of this land and this world here — so advancing the movement aesthetic in the human body isn’t part of our culture in a real, strong way,” he explains, in a nod to the fact that expression in the written and spoken form is where it’s at. That said, Bliss went on to comment that: “dance is probably the least understood form of communication and perhaps the most profound. But it’s also maybe the scariest,” because the language is not as codified, so it’s harder to learn, which, in the end, expresses so much of the deeper part of self and can be scary. “Which is why it’s often tamped down.”
Bliss, a professional dancer who spent 22 years as a working artist, cites Jacob’s Pillow as stimulating much in his life both professionally and personally. He first came to the Pillow while in residence with Liz Lerman, the American choreographer who founded the Liz Lerman Dance Exchange in 1976; he spent 10 years with the company before taking a job at New York’s Lincoln Center, where he delved head-first into a simple, albeit profound, concept: How do you really help artists become good as teachers? It was a concept he learned from Lerman, “who really had it down,” and Bliss helped Lincoln Center navigate that terrain, in particular finding a way to more deeply ingrain it within communities. In the ensuing decade, he was forced to “let go” of what was happening in Becket, despite having planted seeds for community programming there that took off on their own. Bliss eventually circled back to Jacob’s Pillow, where he had been in residence two decades prior, to find that the individual who had been teaching Families Dance Together (the same dancer who had replaced Bliss in Lerman’s company) was ready to move on. Suffice it to say, this intergenerational work with families has been “an aside” for the past 16 years.
As to the allure of this summer gig? For starters, Bliss has reached middle age, so it’s undoubtedly keeping him young. And when he does question whether or not he is getting too old to teach young kids, the answer is decidedly no. “It still works, because it’s so intergenerational,” he said. And then there is the inherent inspiration: “You give a problem to a family that you would give to any professional company, and they will solve it so much more intimately, with so much more insight, because their emotional terrain is so tightly woven,” he explained, quickly adding, “it brings tears to my eyes every single week. It’s just amazing.”
As class commenced, I observed, and what I witnessed made total sense.
“Somersaulters, runners, jumpers, everyone: I see you! Now circle up and let me see your toes,” is the energetic welcome participants received as Bliss began. The circle was vast, as each of the dozen children had brought at least one adult if not several: moms, dads, aunts, uncles, grandparents. Then came the icebreaker. “Something unusual that I did this summer was wrestle with my grandfather,” volunteered one young girl before introducing her little sister. “I went kayaking with my mother and saw a drowned water snake,” the next child chimed in. One grown-up danced at the beach, another learned how to make spring rolls. Beneath the gentle whir of several ceiling fans, each participant introduced themselves before making room for the common ground: moving together.
“Ready, set, here we go … one, two, three, four,” Bliss called out, modeling a simple stretch for all to try. And there were ample opportunities to get involved. He called for line leaders, and kids scrambled to volunteer. It was high-energy and engaging. “That’s our pathway … let’s all go together … follow the leader down and back,” he said before the entire group began walking in line. “Breathe when you’re walking, and look around, see each other,” he encouraged reluctant participants, while simultaneously praising those who had joined in wholeheartedly. “I see someone adding arms; that’s nice. Get your arms in there. Feel the music in your body,” Bliss invited. Suddenly 24 pairs of arms were waving in the air as the late afternoon sunlight slanted in through a wall of west-facing windows. The beat suddenly changed. “What’s another way we can move?” Bliss asked. to which one young person shouted out, “Running!” And with skirts flying and feet slapping, the transition was seamless. “Wow, wow, this is very good!” Bliss added, blending into a flurry of motion and activity.
“Many kids grow up with a lot of ideas about what it means to be successful, and this is one place where they truly feel success in a creative capacity,” explained Bliss, which is what intrigues him in his work. Add to that a general trend toward more broadly defined families — grandparents raising grandchildren, for instance — and the benefits of dancing together are suddenly myriad. Bliss does not teach any movement; rather he instigates participants to be the movers they are. And then he gives them a problem to solve. “We are all inherently intelligent creatures,” Bliss explained of the premise. “If you know you have to solve [the problem] only with movement, and you are there with people you trust, you take chances and you create beautiful stuff. It’s a beautiful little equation.”
Friday’s “problem” began with a poem: “Over, under, around and through; I’m looking upside down at you!” Bliss then set up the premise: “Our bodies can describe things; we can describe animals with our bodies and shapes with our bodies; let’s see if we can describe this poem with our bodies.” Participants quickly broke off into family units before commencing with their work. Within moments, veritable human sculptures and tunnels erupted, some morphing into one while others tumbled and spilled into their separate parts. Despite different approaches, there was a common thread: individuals were trusting each other and taking risks. “Show me how you make shapes over your little sister,” Bliss coached one pair. “Now go around your big sister,” he continued. “Come out and make a new shape over your little sister,” he continued, modeling classic turn-taking. Before long, all the family units, each of which was distinctly different from the next, were employing teamwork, problem solving, trial and error, and play.
One group did backbends; another clasped hands and played ring around the rosy. “We already have a work in progress,” said Bliss. “Next we are going to show each other what we created, and then we are going to be able to borrow from one another,” he added, setting the tone for collaboration. Despite the disparate parts, there was an evident working together toward a bigger picture. And everyone was having fun, feeling accomplished, trying new things and laughing.
Classroom teachers know there are seven major ways of learning. kinesthetic being one of them. “You don’t find as many kids who are dominant in that [arena] and so teachers don’t feel the need to develop that array in their strategies as much as they would others,” Bliss said, citing cognitive learners and spatial learners as easier for teachers “to get.” Kinesthetic learners? “Not so much. But once they have a good teacher come in the classroom and give them a few tools, and they see how well those tools work, they dig it. And they use it.” Which, after decades in the field, Bliss knows from experience.
As to the payoff for families? It’s a moment to play together while remaining cognizant that play is learning for kids. “I think we all, as parents, wonder: Is there a way I could play with my kids better? Or more?” Families Dance Together is a response to this question, albeit unspoken.
Bliss pointed to what he calls “the delight they see in each other.” And it’s not delight they don’t already know, as they are a family, but for some, it’s reawakening in the midst of a long, hot summer when they are just trying to keep track of their kids. And Bliss has another hope: that what he teaches is so “cookie-cutter” parents can take a little bit of it with them and try some of these things on their own at home, in the backyard. “For a moment, [caregivers] are able to see what they love about parenting. It just sort of coalesces for them. And then it’s the beauty of them seeing their kids, up close, really go for it — not doubting themselves, becoming very comfortable really quickly.” Which, from where I sit, sounds like an epic win for everyone.
