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Dancing
on the Edge
By Nancy Wozny
 In Israel, neither life nor dance is for the faint of heart
A dancer stands still onstage. In a
blink of an eye, with what looks like no preparation
whatsoever, he catapults himself forward at an angle nearly
parallel to the floor. As if that alone were not daring
enough, the floor was some three feet below him, making the
move look even more impossible. That daredevil is Saar Harari
of LeeSaar The Company, who recently moved to New York from
Israel with his wife, actress and writer Lee Sher, to start a
dance company. His story is one of many that reflect the
unique history and circumstances under which dance in Israel
has blossomed beyond its traditional origins.
Although people in the Middle East have been dancing since
ancient times (evidence of folk dances can be found in the
Bible), the history of Western dance in Israel goes back only
approximately 80 years. Russian ballerina Rina Nikova, who
went to the region in the 1920s, is credited with introducing
Western dance to Israeli culture and instigating its unique
blend of ethnic and modern dance. Later, in 1950, Sara Levi-Tanai
created Inbal Dance Theatre (now Inbal Ethnic Dance
Centre) using Yemenite folk dances. Inbal came to represent
the face of Israeli dance so much that world-renowned
choreographers Jerome Robbins and Anna Sokolow went to Israel
to teach with the company.
In the 1950s and 1960s modern dance came into full force with
the arrival of Baroness Batsheva (Bethsabée) de Rothschild, a
close colleague of Martha Graham, in 1958. She founded
Batsheva Dance Company (originally Graham based) and assisted
in the creation of The Bat-Dor Dance Company. Batsheva, now an
internationally respected company, is one of many companies
and educational events based at the hub of Israeli dance,
Suzanne Dellal Centre for Dance and Theatre in Tel Aviv. And
although modern dance could be called the foundation for
concert dance in Israel, ballet is alive and well too. The
Israeli Ballet Center, founded in 1970 by Berta Yampolsky and
Hillel Markman, opened its new center and school in Tel Aviv
in 2004.
Because of Israel’s mandatory military service policy for both
men and women, the nation’s dance studio culture has to
accommodate a lack of 18- to 21-year-olds. (Men are required
to serve in the army for three years, women for two.) It’s
possible for dancers in the military to get an assignment that
allows them to continue their training, but in Harari’s case,
that was not his choice. “Sure, you can find something easy to
do,” he says. “I wanted to be a combat soldier. I felt obliged
to give back to my country. I was young, stupid, and full of
faith.” He spent six years in a special combat unit, which may
account, at least in part, for the power and intensity in his
dancing. The way he talks about his military service hints at
the force behind his dancing. “There is something very
physical about being in the army, and it definitely shaped who
I am as a dancer. You have to mature very fast [when] you are
playing with life and death all the time,” he says. When he
went full force back into dancing, he noticed that something
in his body had changed; a kind of animal instinct had
sharpened.
Harari’s dancing shares the same raw physicality that is so
apparent in the works of Batsheva’s director, maverick Israeli
choreographer Ohad Naharin, who also founded Gaga, a mind–body
training method. A Hebrew word, gaga translates into
English as “hit,” but Naharin’s technique focuses on
unblocking the body, thereby teaching dancers to move with
control and more efficiency.
Today Harari continues to train in Gaga, which he began
studying seven years ago and now integrates into work with his
company. But his early education story is a
familiar one: He started dancing at his mother’s studio in a
farming village near Tel Aviv. Delia Harari started Delia’s
School 28 years ago, when she was 25 and still coaching the
Israeli gymnastics team. “It was the right time for me to
start teaching the next generation,” says Delia via email
(translated courtesy of her son). “Gymnastics is about
technique and timing; it is very cold and clean. Dance is
deeper for me; I was able to express my real self.” Today the
school is a full-service performing arts academy that includes
drama, martial arts, modern dance, ballet, jazz, Pilates, The
Feldenkrais Method®, and Gaga workshops. Surrounded by
flowers and orchards, it serves approximately 600 students
ages 3 to 70.
The missing 18- to 21-year-olds don’t trouble Delia Harari;
it’s expected that most students will not continue to train
during those years. “Maybe they should have a dance company in
the army,” she comments. “I hope for the best. This is the
cycle of life in Israel.” She feels that her students need to
be free of some of the political turmoil that surrounds them,
and dance is especially equipped to help them do that.
“Children are very stressed because of the problems in Israel.
Dance helps them express themselves,” she says. “We have an
armed guard in front of the studio, but again—this is life in
Israel.”
Another glimpse of Israel comes in the form of four charming,
talented young dancers who competed in the Maccabi Games in
Houston last summer. The Games, offered nationwide through the
Partnership 2000 program, pair various U.S. delegations with
sister regions in Israel. Lihi Sela of Kibbutz Adamie and Gal
Chen of the Moshau Regba region were traveling with the Omaha,
NE, delegation; Noa Bluemenstick and Zohar Kantor, both from
the Matte Asher region, teamed up with the Birmingham, AL,
delegation. The teenage girls, who study modern, ballet, and
hip-hop at different studios (three of them also trained in
Gaga), quickly became friends and were eager to talk about
dance life in Israel. They nearly cheered at the mention of
Naharin’s name; he’s a national dance hero to them. Of the
various genres, Sela prefers modern dance. “It has more soul,”
she says, clutching her fist to her heart.
In performance, Chen and Bluemenstick projected some of the
same kind of intensity as Saar Harari. Both possessed a mature
determination for their age. All four girls hope to become
professional dancers—and perhaps also learn something else. “I
want to dance and be a lawyer,” says Bluemenstick. They seemed
surprised by the casual demeanor of other performers at the
Maccabi Games and puzzled by the notion of recreational dance.
The mention of dance competitions yielded an equally
uncomprehending response. “Dance is an art form, not a sport,”
stated Chen with considerable definitiveness.
When asked whether Israel’s political situation impacts their
lives, the response was a firm, unison no. But in the next
breath Bleumenstick said she was worried about her brother, a
soldier, during the Hamas conflict last summer. Still, the
girls appear enthused to serve their upcoming army service.
“The army is so flexible now,” says Esti Waismen, a teacher
and chaperon for Sela and Chen. “It’s possible now to continue
your [dance] training.”
The girls are serious, intense, and passionate about dance and
their country. “Israeli dance is so much more than folk
dancing,” says Bleumenstick, raising and lowering her arms
“Hava Nagila” style.
Saar Harari says that no discussion on the current state of
Israeli dance education is complete without mentioning Yehudit
Arnon, a Holocaust survivor and founding member of Kibbutz
Ga’aton, near the city of Nahariya. She founded Kibbutz
Contemporary Dance Company (KCDC) and school. According to
Eytan Pe’er, KCDC’s associate general manager, it is “one of
the only dance companies in the world that rehearses, trains,
and lives in the same place. All of our dancers, which come
from all around Israel and foreign countries, live in the
Kibbutz. [And] Ga’aton has a studio with many students from
the north of Israel and another studio for schoolchildren that
has hundreds of students for classic and contemporary dance.”
In Negev, a rural area in the southern desert of Israel, Diana
Eidelsztein runs the Hatzerim Dance Studio at Kibbutz Hatzerim,
offering classes for ages 4 to adult in ballet, tap, hip-hop,
Gaga, and Feldenkrais. Eidelsztein worked with Estela Maris in
Argentina and trained with modern-dance pioneer Anna Sokolow
at Jerusalem’s Rubin Academy of Music and Dance. “Anna
directly inspired my approach to dance,” she says. “Anna
taught at our studio as a gift.”
Eidelsztein says that the political situation in Israel has
taken its toll. Her school’s facilities are far from ideal;
classes take place in a small music room and in a converted
underground bomb shelter that lacks light and adequate
ventilation. A recent fund-raising effort built the Oasis, an
outdoor studio space. “We raised enough money to build a
floor, but no walls,” says Eidelsztein. “When we had the Gulf
War, we had to cover all the entrances. So that’s how we
danced in this bomb shelter—no air, no air conditioning, and
so much stress. Our constant war situation creates chaos; we
use the dancing as a way to survive.”
Watching Saar Harari fly across the stage is enough to
convince anyone that something profound is going on in dance
in Israel, a nation that produces performers who dance as if
their life is on the line. It’s a testament to the resilience
and vitality of the Israeli people that despite trying
political circumstances, the dancing continues.
Interested in learning more about Israeli dance? Check out the
New Dance From Israel Festival, coming to New York in the fall
as part of the Nationwide Israel @ 60 Celebration.
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