In 1971, following my release from the Israeli Army, I was invited to dance with a small contemporary dance company called Rotterdams Danscentrum (RDC), in Rotterdam. At that time, Holland was a prominent center for European Dance. Two major companies dominated the scene – Het National Ballet, and Nederlands Dans Theater. But quite a few smaller dance companies sprouted around the country and with substantial support from local and national government agencies were rapidly adding their mark on the dance scene. The offer to dance with such a company was very lucrative for me, so I took a year off from my dance company in Israel, Bat Dor, and landed in Holland.
My friend and colleague, Yehuda Maor, with whom I also danced in Bat Dor, was already dancing with Rotterdams Danscentrum and was planning to meet me and help me out upon my arrival. I arrived in the late morning hours, and found my way directly to the company’s studio, with suitcases and all. The company was in rehearsal and when I stepped in, I was escorted to the studio to be introduced to the director and to the dancers. My heart sank when I noticed that Yehuda was not there (it turned out that he felt ill that day but had no way to let me know – no internet, no cell phones, you get the picture). I took a deep breath and pretended that all was fine, as if I have already been so accustomed to traveling and meeting people who spoke unfamiliar languages… I watched the rehearsal to the end, enjoying parts of it, and completely unaware of other part, at times when my mind was wondering about how to get to my friend’s apartment where I was going to stay. When the rehearsal ended, I was up to another revelation – I was in Holland and the Dutch were not like the Israeli people I knew until now. Although they were very friendly and even warm, they were also very private. The accepted social norm was that once the workday was over, each dancer went back to their own private life, and did not mind other people’ business. So, no one seemed to mind my business either. Everyone said goodnight and left! Imagine me sitting there, having no one to talk to or even ask how to get to my apartment… The last person to leave was Luisa Frank. A beautiful dancer, whom I later partnered a lot. She noticed my demise and came to me and said: “Hi I am Luisa!” She broke the ice. She offered to take me to the apartment, on Goudse Rijweg 159, an address I could not pronounce at the time, and I was saved! In time I learned how to fit into the Dutch social structure. I made many friend – some for life! But most importantly I learned that to grow as an artist I truly had to shed the preconceived notions of how the world must fit to me, and rather explore the world for the vast variety of cultures and traditions which it harbors.
Working with RDC was an illuminating and transformational (yet not very easy) experience. During the first few months I learned and performed a series of works, including one by then young choreographer Pina Bausch, most of which where quite difficult for me – I was not blessed with a very flexible body. The opportunity presented itself when the company’s ballet master position became available. I was approach by the director asking if I would consider assuming that position, pending a trial class, where I would teach the company’s morning Ballet class. I have never taught before, but boldly accepted the challenge. The night leading to my ‘audition’ was a night to remember – I was haunted by a million scenarios of how my class will be, I prepared a zillion exercises which seemed great for one moment and futile in the next. I was scared! But the morning came and I taught a good class… I was hired as ballet master! Since that time I no longer considered myself as just a dancer, but more as a dance artist – teaching and choreographing became an important part of my quest.
At the end of the year I was invited to go back to Bat Dor as a dancer and a teacher, and soon had the opportunity to choreograph my first work.
