AILEEN PASLOFF, 1931–2020

PAS DE PASSLOFF

AILEEN PASSLOFF, dancer, choreographer, teacher, and mentor, died November 3, 2020, at the age of 89. She was a longtime member of the Judson Dance Theater, ran the dance company that bore her name from 1958 to 1968, and came to Bard in 1969, where she taught until she retired in 2015. She starred, as herself, with Arthur Avilés ’87 and others, in Marta Renzi’s 2017 film Her Magnum Opus, Renzi’s ode to creativity and community. Passloff was also a passionate advocate for and performer of the flamenco tradition. The Passloff Pass, which offers Bard students $5 tickets to selected Fisher Center events, was created in her honor by an alumnus in 2017. Aileen Passloff had a profound influence on untold numbers of students, including the alumni/ae quoted here.

Once, after I performed a dance I’d choreographed, she gently said, “Come here, Beauty.” (She called all her students Beauty.) She sang a nonsensical song like, “Ooh dee doe! Oh dee doe!” as she took my left arm and lightly touched my pinky, convincing it to join the rest of my body. She said in a soothing, motherly voice, “Oh, pinky wants to fly off! It’s okay, pinky. We are here. Oh, sweet pinky, it’s okay!” I hadn’t been aware that my pinkies were unintentionally shooting out from my body like antennae, betraying a nervousness that subverted and undermined the story I was attempting to tell. Aileen would say things like, “Listen to the earth as you brush your foot along the floor, as if the floor is saying something that you’re curious about hearing.” That made sense to me. I felt she’d turned my body into a listening device. —Arthur Avilés ’87, artistic director, BAAD! (Bronx Academy of Arts and Dance) I knew nothing about playing piano, couldn’t read a note, didn’t know a scale, couldn’t tell you the difference between a mode and a toad, but I played and played into the wee small hours most every night. How Aileen first heard me I have no idea, but she asked me to play for her class. I see myself as if in a movie, tinkling and banging away on a decrepit upright, dancers sailing across the floor wondering what the hell I was doing. But Aileen didn’t toss me out, she encouraged me to keep coming back, to keep playing, to explore sonically whatever I felt like. She never asked me to play a rhythm, to keep a beat, to evoke a mood—she just let me improvise away, taking my cues from her as she led the class. A great experience, and a great validation for me as I was swimming through an ocean of free-form, anything-goes musical adventure. Looking back, I see what rare gifts she gave us, what valuable lessons she bestowed. —Chris Wangro ’79, director and producer

I almost left Bard my first year because of Aileen. She was tough on me, and her way seemed so strange. Four years later, as we sat together late one night lighting my Senior Project, she turned to me and said, “This is your rehearsal. If you want to change something, this is the time to do it.” I understood immediately she was referring to how breathtakingly luminescent the dancers’ skin became, while the same light fell flat on the material covering their bodies. I stopped everything, asked the dancers to take off their costumes, and we continued. Doing so transformed the piece. She was highly unusual in her capacity to be in tune with her students, and very skillful as she guided us to learn the artistic freedom inherent in taking risks. She wasn’t strange. Just a very rare being. —Janet Stetson ’81, Bard College director of graduate admission In Aileen’s classes, there was room for everyone to be just who they were. She would always say that we’re wonderfully well-made, like a sweet tiger or like a tree. She would create this environment where you were expected to do your best, of course, but you were also, more importantly, expected to speak from your own point of view—to have the courage to know yourself and to share that. —Charlotte Hendrickson ’07, choreographer and dancer

I first studied with Aileen in 1977, but I still hear her voice in my rehearsals urging me on, asking me to connect to my most essential self and not to be afraid to move. A few years ago, I asked her to revive one of her own works and a solo made by her beloved colleague James Waring for my company. In working with her in the studio I heard again the thoughts and ideas that had so inspired me at Bard and which had, through the years, become a part of my process at an almost cellular level. Aileen taught me to open the doors on my work, to let in influences and thoughts and chaos and silence and boredom and excitement and passion. She and I shared a love of ballet and a love of rhythm, and I saw her powerfully embody the two energies at once—blazing a path forward for me over which I would never retrace my steps. Aileen’s wisdom and insight were cherished by generations of artists and she gave of herself unstintingly. We will all miss her. —David Parker ’81, choreographer and director of The Bang Group

Aileen Passloff received the Bardian Award from Bard College in 2010.