| Most dancers, like most actors, await their
opportunity to be cast in roles that stir their creative juices, and which
best demonstrate their talents. Only a few such performers are diversified
enough to be hyphenates — for example, a writer, actor, and director all
in one. Still rarer are those who combine their varied crafts in the service
of a unique artistic vision.
Or Nili Azulay is certainly a “hyphenate,” working regularly as a
dancer, actor, and choreographer, and having won several awards for
her poetry. But the breadth of her talent only hints at her total artistry,
as she has used her considerable background as the foundation for creating
a synthesis of modern and traditional dance, Spanish and Middle Eastern
cultural traditions, and literature and music.
Having studied both classical Spanish dance and flamenco with the
renowned teacher Sylvia Duran, she eventually was invited by the influential
dancer/choreographer Antonio Canales to take part in a special process
of further advancing his modernist style. In 1997, she created a work that
not only utilizes these influences but which offers an indication of the
scope of her ambition. With The Flame and The Frost — A Dialogue For
a Dancer and an Orchestra, she choreographed a solo show, in which
she characterizes the various female characters referred to in Ibsen’s
Peer
Gynt, all set, naturally, to the music of Edvard Grieg’s Peer Gynt
Suite. The work was received with great success in Israel, and she has
since performed it with different orchestras around the world.
Since then, she has continued developing her art, finding new ways
to fuse dance, music, and poetry. She spoke with us recently by phone regarding
her artistic inspiration and her performance with the Los Angeles Jewish
Symphony, April 28, at the Sinai Temple.
Bob Remstein: How did you first get involved in Spanish dancing?
Or Nili Azulay: Being from Israel, but with mixed Sephardic and
Ashkenazic origins, I was naturally drawn to Spanish culture, but I had
to find my own way, develop my own voice. As a result, I’ve choreographed
works that incorporate Spanish dancing, but which are not purely Spanish.
I love Spanish repertoire, but it is only part of my work.
BR: And what attracted you, specifically, to flamenco?
ONA: Initially, from seeing the film Carmen, starring choreographer
Antonio Gades and directed by Carlos Saura. I was captured by the emotion
of the music, and found it a wonderful chance to explore moods and emotions,
other colors. Flamenco, unfortunately, has an unjustly shallow image; at
best, people think it’s something very dramatic with castanets and red
skirts; at worst, it’s just for nightclubs. But at its heart, it offers
an opportunity to discover deep feelings.
BR: And so you can more readily create a dialogue with the musicians?
ONA: A good dancer has to be a musician in her soul, to play
the music with her body. In flamenco, especially, the dancer actually creates
music with the castanets and the footwork. Conductors sometimes tell me
after a show, “I wish our drummers were as rhythmic as you!”
BR: How does your approach to flamenco differ from that of classical
dance?
ONA: Flamenco calls for a different perspective. You see, the
main protagonist in terms of flamenco is the dancer, the performer’s character,
whereas in ballet or contemporary dance, the style of the movement is the
primary focus.
BR: How does that apply to the pieces you’re dancing to in the April
28 concert?
ONA: Of the two, the Israel Suite is the more traditionally classical
work; the other one, Yuval Ron’s Sephardic Songs of Exile, will
be more colorful, rhythmical, more improvised — a bit like an encore. In
the Israel Suite, every movement has a story, or at least a specific
mood, from the first movement, which is very dreamy — in it, I hold a big
piece of lace material that a Jewish bride would wear (like a mantilla,
a Spanish shawl) — to a later movement, in which I look like a prisoner
trying to find a way out (either a physical escape or an emotional one,
or perhaps both), to a lullaby, in which my movements suggest birds, horses,
a baby, and more.
BR: You say that Yuval Ron’s piece will be more improvised, in a
sense. Will your dancing be more improvised too?
ONA: Antonio el Bailarin [Antonio the dancer], who was for Spanish
dance what Martha Graham was for modern dance, used to say, “There’s no
improvisation on the stage!” But he would astonish people by doing that
very thing. So what did he mean? He had a very well-shaped frame; inside
the frame, he would allow himself the chance to improvise from time to
time. In my performance, improvisation will be there, but only to a certain
extent.
BR: And the Israel Suite?
ONA: Noreen Green sent me a tape with the pieces to be performed.
Some of the tunes really touched and inspired me; I realized that they
were Israeli pioneer songs which had been molded into the Israel Suite.
In Amos Oz’s book Black Box, one of the main characters describes
her feelings when she hears these songs. The feelings Oz describes [see
below] are the same ones I’ve always felt when I heard those pioneer songs.
And hearing them in the Israel Suite moved me to create a dance
work informed by those feelings.
“When I was a little girl, ... I fell under the spell of the old
pioneer songs... . To this day I tremble when they play In the
Lands the Fathers Loved on the radio. Or There Was a Lass
in Kinneret. Or Once Upon a Hill. As if they are reminding
me from a distance of vows of loyalty. As if they are saying there is a
land but we have not found it. Some jester in disguise has crept
in and seduced us into loathing what we have found. Destroying what was
precious and will not return. ... Will you remember me in your prayers?
Please call out in my name that I am waiting for mercy. ... Say that we
tried to receive and return love but that we have gone astray. ... Try
to clarify how we are to get out. Where is the promised land?”
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