Merce Cunningham, 1919 - 2009

I was deeply saddened to receive news that Merce Cunningham died last night. See the Times' comprehensive tribute and retrospective here.

Cunningham was a titan as an artist, a leader, and a human being. While he clearly had come to terms with the limits of his health and mortality, Cunningham continued to create into his last years. A pioneer in the use of technology (electronic music, video, ipods used by audience members during performance), a master collaborator (some of the greats include Cage, Rauschenberg, Jasper Johns, and Radiohead), and a supreme humanist ("My work-or at least what I attempt to do-is to take each person for what they are."), Cunningham and his company were the pre-eminent old guard in the modern dance world with more than 200 pieces to his credit. Nearly Ninety, a new ninety-minute work, premiered in celebration of Merce's 90th birthday in April, here in New York.

In 1997 (barely 23 years old), while in grad school at Virginia Tech, I spent a transformative summer at Jacob's Pillow in the Berkshires. While there, I experienced the Cunningham company live for the first time and befriended their production manager. Elaine invited me to come to New York that fall and assist her on the company's performances at the Brooklyn Academy of Music. Though I was completely overwhelmed and fairly certain New York was not for me, I decided to go. I stayed in my friend Kristin's bedroom (she was on tour at the time) in her scary Lorimer Street apartment (this was before Williamsburg was Williamsburg) and found my way to BAM.

The week I spent with Elaine and the company completely altered my professional and, ultimately, my personal path. During those days I learned Elaine's ins and outs of negotiating a union crew (wear a flowy skirt and boots to load-in), helped to hang a Rauschenberg backdrop, watched the company rehearse, watched Merce watch the company rehearse, created an installation of Andy Warhol's Silver Clouds (large, inflatable, mylar pillows) which Cunningham had used in Rainforest, and saw the performances from every imaginable vantage point.

It was during that week that I began to understand what an artist is. That I began to see what a lifetime in the arts could yield. That I began to know that supporting the efforts of an artist requires a special kind of person, and that I am one of those people. That I began to see New York as an oasis. That I began to understand that New York would give me the opportunity to make whatever I want of my life, because the city's resources are endless and its people generous beyond words. That I truly saw, for the first time, the possibilities the world could avail me, if I were willing to leap.

I fell in love with New York that week. And I fell in love with Merce Cunningham.