In 1982, a very young Bebe Miller introduced herself as a choreographer to the downtown New York City dance scene with Vespers, an introspective yet playful solo that captivatingly balances precision and spontaneity. Part of a Danspace Project series called Parallels, which highlighted young Black choreographers and was curated by Ishmael Houston-Jones, the piece marked the beginning of what continues to be an illustrious career for Miller, including acclaimed works for her Bebe Miller Company as well as troupes like A.I.M by Kyle Abraham, Boston Ballet, and Philadanco.
Last year, Danspace program director and associate curator Seta Morton found the video of Vespers on Vimeo—and it made an impression. By then it had been decades since Miller had engaged with the piece, which she mainly remembered for how slippery the floor was in Danspace’s iconic sanctuary that evening. But when it came time to plan the lineup for Danspace’s 50th-anniversary season, Morton asked Miller if she’d be interested in revisiting it. The resulting piece, Vespers, Reimagined, will premiere at Danspace March 27–29. It features five dancers—Bria Bacon, Jasmine Hearn, Shayla-Vie Jenkins, Chloe London, and Stacy Matthew Spence—plus music from Hearn Gadbois and K.J. Holmes and, yes, that video of young Miller.
Tell me about the original Vespers—what are your memories of it, and what kind of impact did it have on your career?
The performance felt very singular, both because of the slippery floor but also because at the time I’d been working with Nina Wiener, who is a Tharp person, and so all of that particularity and execution and exploration was really current for me. It was a challenge—I didn’t think of myself as a technical dancer at all, so my time with Nina felt like learning how to stand on one foot and move my arms without falling over.
“I enjoy on a deep level not knowing exactly what to do with this material,” says Bebe Miller of revisiting her Vespers. Photo by Lila Hurwitz, courtesy Danspace Project.
The whole experience of being asked by Ishmael to take part in Parallels in the first place—I knew of most of the other choreographers, but I didn’t know them well. So there we all were, experimentalists, put together. I think we all had the experience that whenever we talked about being a Black choreographer, people would say “Oh, I love Ailey.” So the chance to do something else was a statement as a Black choreographer, but it was also like: What do I do? Who am I as a choreographer? Am I a choreographer?
The work was made with some set phrases and then some improvisation. Improvisation was my first language as a kid, back at Henry Street Settlement when I was 4, before I could read. I always had that at my disposal, but it felt like cheating, like I needed to make these phrases and I needed to be really specific and accomplish them. So there was the interplay between set material and allowed improvisation, and then, “Oh, shoot, the floor is slippery.”
What made you decide to reimagine the work with five dancers rather than a soloist?
In a way it seemed like “Why not?” I guess I imagined a nice unison take on it, which we will do, partially. Because I haven’t been living in the city for 20 or more years, I asked Danspace “What dancers do you know?” I also added one of my own, and we came up with this group.
How will the movement in this reimagining be in relationship to the original movement, and what is this new cast of dancers bringing with them?
I was kind of surprised at myself for being very pedantic at first. Like, “No, it must be like this. This is where it comes from. Let’s try that again.” I think that the dancers enjoyed that, but we got through the first two minutes in a couple of days. So I took myself to task about “Why not reimagine it?” There have been duets and trios that have formed, where some have gone further with the set material and some have gone in another direction. All have gone somewhere improvising with each other in and around the material.
What has come up for you during this process as you’ve been watching this video of your younger self?
One of the things that came up on a personal level is that I recognized phrasing from 40 years ago. I recognized a way of approaching or a way of moving through my body that I hadn’t thought of as “fundamental Bebe,” but apparently there is one. It’s been an interesting task of aiming to share some of that information as specifically as possible, and seeing what does and does not translate. And then the next step of seeing what someone else does in and around these very particular responses. It’s sort of like the next generation is taking on not only the work but a response to the work. So the ripples that come from the first pebble are generating new responses, and that feels lovely. So, it’s not quite a full circle. I’m still here circling. But I enjoy on a deep level not knowing exactly what to do with this material.
Rehearsal for Bebe Miller’s Vespers, Reimagined. Photo by Lila Hurwitz, courtesy Danspace Project.
Are you preserving anything about the slipperiness of the floor, or the jazz shoes you were wearing in the original solo?
In sharing this material with this group of artists, I did talk a lot about the slippery floor, and about the jazz shoe, which was slippery, and also kind of too small. So the tendency is to kind of pull up from the floor and inward. We are now living very firmly in a grounded, planted, somatic practice. So how do you redirect that? How do you use that? Somebody did bring in jazz shoes once, and I went “Okay, no.” But why not try to do that pulling up from the floor? That is its own physicality. I am intrigued by this idea of my memory of how this works. I’m curious about how all of that was formative, and what happens to that information over time.
Anything else you want to share about this piece?
I’m grateful to Ishmael Houston-Jones for being part of my history, and now we’re both here, decades later, reconstructing. We are moving forward and speaking our language to different folks. Danspace was and remains iconic as a place for experimentation, as a place for community. So I feel intrigued by the generational response to the place. There’s something about how we all age, including institutions, and then serve with different generations.
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