Even after she stopped performing with the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater and became its artistic director, Judith Jamison retained the capacity to evoke a thousand different emotions in the elegant undulations of a simple gesture. As she'd coach a dancer through a role, her long arms would extend toward the ends of the earth and they would become as liquid as waves in the ocean. They would rise and fall at her command. And they could tell a story of fortitude, strength and beauty that felt universal but also deeply intimate.
Jamison made these meticulous movements look so easy, so effortless, that all one could see was her grace rather than the hard work that brought her to that point. The magic of her artistry was that she had so much to say about her past and present, about Blackness and womanhood. She held nothing back, neither pain nor passion. And she made audiences remember the beauty of it all.
Jamison was 81 years old when she died Saturday. And in her long life in dance, she reminded audiences of what it meant to find joy in the darkness. Jamison became a star thanks to her solo performance in Ailey's "Cry," an homage to Black women and the ways in which they have both toiled and soared.
It was impossible to see Jamison, whether in motion or simply standing still and tall at her full 5-foot-10 height, and not be mesmerized by her carriage. There is a thrill in seeing a Black woman - too often sidelined - completely fill a space with her presence, whether she be at the center of a performance or directing one in a rehearsal studio.
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