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    <title>Arts &amp; Leisure &gt; Dance</title>
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    <dc:creator>_JStandard@js.com</dc:creator>
    <dc:rights>Copyright 2012</dc:rights>
    <dc:date>2012-05-25T03:04:29+00:00</dc:date>
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    <item>
      <title>BergenPAC kicks off young friends program</title>
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The Bergen Performing Arts Center in Englewood has kicked off a new Young Friends of the Arts Program in an effort to expose children to the fine arts by offering a free ticket for a child with each full&#45;paying adult ticket. Students also receive 50 percent off tickets with a student ID. Shows include March 15, Ramsey Lewis; March 19, Moscow Festival Ballet “Swan Lake;” April 28, NJ Ballet’s “Ballet with a Latin Beat II,” and on the 29th, NJ Ballet’s “Cinderella.” Call (201) 227&#45;1030, Ticketmaster.com, or bergenPAC.org, and use the code Friends.</description>
      <dc:subject>Dance</dc:subject>
      <dc:date>2012-03-02T07:00:56+00:00</dc:date>
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    <item>
      <title>Ballet trip planned</title>
      <link>/content/item/22191</link>
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Jewish Women International&#45;Skyview Chapter plans to see a matinee performance of the American Ballet Theatre’s “La Bayadère,” at Lincoln Center&#45;Metropolitan Opera in New York City, on Wednesday, May 23. It costs $85 and includes transportation. For information, call Arlene, (201) 224&#45;4105 or Thelma, (201) 224&#45;8998.</description>
      <dc:subject>Dance</dc:subject>
      <dc:date>2012-02-24T07:00:38+00:00</dc:date>
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    <item>
      <title>A federation as art patron</title>
      <link>/content/item/21502</link>
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Cleveland has gained an unlikely new patron of the arts: the local Jewish federation.
				As part of a new project to help showcase Israeli artists, the Jewish Federation of Cleveland is helping to facilitate Israeli performances at some of the city’s major museums, concert halls, and theaters. The program, launched this fall, aims not just to boost Israel, but the Israeli arts, as well, with the message that Israeli culture is not just for the JCC anymore.The Israeli Inbal Pinto and Avshalom Dance Company, shown performing “Oyster,” will begin its next U.S. tour in Cleveland with help from the local Jewish federation. Courtesy Jewish Federation of ClevelandCleveland has gained an unlikely new patron of the arts: the local Jewish federation.
				As part of a new project to help showcase Israeli artists, the Jewish Federation of Cleveland is helping to facilitate Israeli performances at some of the city’s major museums, concert halls, and theaters. The program, launched this fall, aims not just to boost Israel, but the Israeli arts, as well, with the message that Israeli culture is not just for the JCC anymore.
				“The mission is to project Israel as a source of world&#45;class art and culture,” said Erica Hartman&#45;Horovitz, an art appraiser who co&#45;chairs the program, the Cleveland Israel Arts Connection. “When most people think of Israel, they’re thinking of the conflict, maybe the incredible efforts that Israel goes through to survive. We want to illustrate the Israel arts and culture world as something that is more than that for those who might not be interested in Israel for other reasons.”
				The program’s committee is comprised of volunteers from the Cleveland arts, performance, music, and literary communities. It has helped bring Ladino singer Yasmin Levy to the Cleveland Museum of Art; the Alon Yavnai jazz quintet to Severance Hall, the home of the Cleveland Orchestra; a sold&#45;out performance of “My Name is Asher Lev” to the Cleveland Play House; and talks by Israeli novelist Amos Oz at Oberlin College and Case Western Reserve University.
				In March, the Cleveland International Film Festival will feature films from Israel.
				The program to boost Israel is unusual both for its partnerships with non&#45;Jewish institutions and its ambition to bring Israeli culture to a city with a relatively modest Jewish population of about 80,000 and few Israelis.
				“You don’t need to do this in New York because New York — and probably L.A., Washington and Miami — has regular presentations, and because you have a large Jewish and Israeli population and these things can play there successfully even competing against other cultural options,” said Stephen Hoffman, chief executive officer of the Cleveland federation. “But once you leave the largest Jewish population centers, you have to work at it. Some of these performers might come to Cleveland anyway, some might not, but some need more help.”
				The help includes funding of $50,000 in corporate and private donations, as well as manpower help from the federation. Among the components of the program is a part&#45;time Israeli scout for talent who comes to Cleveland every couple of months to suggest collaborations with particular artists or groups.
				Meanwhile, non&#45;Jewish venues in Cleveland are turning to the committee for help.
				Pam Young, the executive director of DANCECleveland, said she had wanted to bring the Israeli Inbal Pinto &amp;amp; Avshalom Pollak Dance Company to the city a few years ago to perform its new work at the time, “Oyster,” but to do so was too costly.
				When Young heard recently that the dance company would be reprising “Oyster” during a U.S. tour, she turned to the federation and the marriage was made. In late January, the Israeli company will perform for two days at PlayhouseSquare, the country’s second&#45;largest performing arts center after New York’s Lincoln Center.
				“Federation leadership was essential,” Young said. “It gave us confidence to move forward with the project.”
				She said performances like these are a great way for non&#45;Jews to learn about Israel.
				“The arts transcend a lot of things: They transcend age, race, they transcend stereotypes,” Young said. “Israeli artists aren’t always making art about Israeli experiences or Jewish experiences, but they’re making work, interesting work.”
				Attempts to bring Israeli culture to secular venues have not always gone smoothly. In 2009, the Toronto International Film Festival came under fire for including Israeli movies. In Cleveland, however, organizers say they have not encountered such opposition.
				Young said bringing Israeli artists to town may be heartwarming for Jews, but it also gives non&#45;Jews an opportunity to enjoy great art — it just happens to be from Israel.
				“There are going to be non&#45;Jews in the audience,” she said of the upcoming dance performance. “They’ll be the first ones on their feet.”
				JTA Wire Service</description>
      <dc:subject>Dance</dc:subject>
      <dc:date>2012-01-06T07:48:48+00:00</dc:date>
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    <item>
      <title>Sundays Backstage at the Y</title>
      <link>/content/item/21503</link>
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The Wayne Y begins its “Sundays Backstage at the Y” with a one&#45;woman show “A Time to Dance” with Libby Skala, Sunday, Jan. 8 at 1 p.m. $7 per concert for members/$9 for non&#45;members or $36/$48 for six shows. (973) 595&#45;0100, ext. 237. Courtesy Wayne Y</description>
      <dc:subject>Dance</dc:subject>
      <dc:date>2012-01-06T07:46:30+00:00</dc:date>
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    <item>
      <title>A voice for the underground</title>
      <link>/content/item/20321</link>
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Near the start of the dance performance piece “Brothers,” break dancer and choreographer Ephrat Asherie turns and faces the audience dressed like a boy. Her long brown hair is covered by a black bandana and she wears a plain red sleeveless sweatshirt. Her baggy jeans are ripped open, thigh down to shin, which exposes her black kneepads, a basic piece of equipment for any b&#45;girl.
				Completing the gender&#45;bending look are her arms, which are so chiseled they would make Madonna envious.
				The soundtrack, which until this point had been a series of fast percussive beats, falls away and the voices of two of Asherie’s older brothers, Gil and Neer, fill the small space at Dixon Place, an experimental theater venue in downtown Manhattan. They, along with two other elder Asherie boys, are the titular “brothers” of the piece, and in their narration they recount the myriad ways they picked on her. Despite the harassment growing up, Ephrat, the youngest and only girl, wanted to be just like them.Ephrat Asherie, whose path to becoming a top break dancer began in college, performs an air chair freeze.Near the start of the dance performance piece “Brothers,” break dancer and choreographer Ephrat Asherie turns and faces the audience dressed like a boy. Her long brown hair is covered by a black bandana and she wears a plain red sleeveless sweatshirt. Her baggy jeans are ripped open, thigh down to shin, which exposes her black kneepads, a basic piece of equipment for any b&#45;girl.
				Completing the gender&#45;bending look are her arms, which are so chiseled they would make Madonna envious.
				The soundtrack, which until this point had been a series of fast percussive beats, falls away and the voices of two of Asherie’s older brothers, Gil and Neer, fill the small space at Dixon Place, an experimental theater venue in downtown Manhattan. They, along with two other elder Asherie boys, are the titular “brothers” of the piece, and in their narration they recount the myriad ways they picked on her. Despite the harassment growing up, Ephrat, the youngest and only girl, wanted to be just like them.
				“They were the coolest people I knew,” the Israeli&#45;born Asherie, 30, explains of the four older siblings she chased throughout her childhood in suburban New York’s Westchester County.
				“They could run faster than me, they could ride their bikes faster,” she says, laughing.
				Eventually she went from chasing her brothers and playing soccer to ballet — at the behest of her mother, who wanted to see her do something a bit more feminine. After years of studying ballet and modern dance, however, Asherie returned to her rough&#45;and&#45;tumble roots when she discovered break dancing while at Barnard College, a women’s school affiliated with Columbia University, where she studied Italian.
				No ‘figure flaws’
				In less than a decade since graduating, Asherie has taught break dancing all over the world, including in Europe, Israel and South America. She also has appeared in music videos, and on music award shows and television programs, notably “Saturday Night Live.”
				In breaking, as it is often called by its practitioners, known as b&#45;boys and b&#45;girls, Asherie found a respite from leotards, tights, and mirrors that only seemed to highlight her figure flaws.
				“I didn’t have to look like anybody else or be super skinny,” she says of the difference between ballet and street dance, which is typically performed in baggy attire, hats and sneakers. “I loved the music and the freedom I first saw in it. The freedom to not have to be self&#45;critical. I could just enjoy the music.”
				As for her attraction to genres such as breaking and hip hop, which the Harlem resident teaches at dance studios throughout New York, including at the prestigious Broadway Dance Center, she explains, “For me, all of the dances that are rooted in an African tradition are so much more soulful than anything I’ve ever encountered in my life.”
				None of this mattered, however, during her first encounters with breaking. While she acknowledges the unsophisticated sound, Asherie confesses, “I was drawn to it because it was dope. It was just freakin’ awesome.
				“Why wouldn’t everybody want to do that?” she asks, as though it is a rhetorical question. “It didn’t even occur to me not to fall in love.”
				Asherie feels the same ardor for the b&#45;girl’s favorite apparatus. “I just really love the floor,” she says.
				Most of the iconic breaking moves — headspins, windmills and backspins — are done on or near the ground. As a result, these elements, even at their most extreme, connote a sense of play, like kids palling around. After all, this is how the dance form evolved — young adolescents in New York City fooling around on the concrete until they stumbled on a new dope skill, which they honed.
				Chicago roots
				The same sense of play pervaded the entire Dixon Place showcase. In keeping with the childhood centric trope of “Brothers,” Asherie assigned the theme “looking back” to the rest of the dancers. In addition to performing a solo piece, she participated in two group routines with her house dance group, Mawu, an all&#45;female crew. The opening piece, titled “Playground,” had the four women dressed in young girls’ school uniforms enacting a schoolyard scene with house dance elements.
				This is not the “Jersey Shore”&#45;style of house dance, however, which entails techno, fist pumps, and vigorous pointing at the beat. Underground house dance arose from the Chicago disco scene in the 1970s and incorporates several styles, including salsa and African, but with a smoothness and attention to the groove. Often, the nimble and intricate footwork makes it seem like the dancer is tap dancing without taps.
				One particularly original moment in the set had the ladies of Mawu miming a game of double dutch jump rope to a funk&#45;techno beat.
				Adding to the “years gone by,” at least for Asherie, was the performance of Claudia Aarts&#45;Schrieber; she and Asherie studied ballet together as youngsters in Westchester. Aarts&#45;Schrieber stayed with ballet, eventually joining the Norwegian National Ballet in Oslo. Aarts&#45;Schrieber’s presence on the stage provided a stark example of “the road not taken.”
				Not that Asherie regrets veering away from the more traditional modes, even as she faces the uphill battle, like all underground dancers, of trying to turn her passion into a paycheck.
				“There’s no hip&#45;hop company that will pay you the way” a modern dance company, such as Alvin Ailey, “pays their dancers,” she observes.
				“With underground dancers, a lot of the pioneers end up teaching overseas and doing most of their work overseas, which is a really sad thing because there is not enough work for them here,” Asherie says. “So what is the next generation supposed to do? That’s where a lot of us in my generation have got to create our own thing, find your own way.”
				That is where nights such as the one Asherie curated at Dixon Place come in. When Asherie reached out to the dance community about performing, she expected just a few to respond. She was pleasantly surprised by the enthusiastic response. In addition to herself and Mawu, five other individual performers and groups agreed to participate.
				Appreciation and respect
				“I don’t think there are so many opportunities in the theater setting,” she explains.
				Although the dancers were willing to perform sans pay, Asherie raised $2,000 to compensate them.
				“I wanted to show that I’m a dancer and choreographer, and I’m fighting for all of us to have a better life,” she said. “We shouldn’t have to do shows for free.”
				Such concerns reflect a hard reality about breaking — even if you book the big commercial gig, it still does not secure the future. “What’s the next step?” Asherie wonders.
				For her part, Asherie plans to take the money she makes from her more commercial work to finance the theatrical pieces — more repertory shows of shorter pieces and then, hopefully, an evening length piece at a bigger venue.
				“I want underground styles to be appreciated and respected in many different contexts. In the contexts they were created — the street, the club, battles. But also on stage,” she says.
				And it is onstage, after the music stops and her brothers finish narrating their tales of childhood torture — and after she finishes dancing, jumping and backspinning her way across the floor — that Asherie again faces the audience, tugs off the bandana and lets her long hair loose. She may no longer be a ballerina or the tomboy who chased after her brothers at her own peril, but onstage, she brought those personas together to become a voice for the underground.
				JTA Wire Service</description>
      <dc:subject>Dance</dc:subject>
      <dc:date>2011-10-07T07:52:34+00:00</dc:date>
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