Encore Dance Ensemble Concert celebrates women over 40

The acton exchange (2024)

Acton resident Ann Budner co-founded Encore Dance Ensemble sixteen years ago with her friend and former Acton resident, Elaine Sisler. The two met as volunteers on the Acton-Boxborough Cultural Council. Read more.

two Bedford Women in Encore Dance Ensemble Concert Celebrating Women Over 40

The Bedford Citizen (2024)

Award winning dance educator and Bedford resident Elaine Sisler co-founded Encore as a birthday gift to herself 16 years ago. Read more.

Connecticut Dance Alliance Presents Dance History Project: 

Dance in Connecticut (2017)

This photo of a 2010 Encore Dance Ensemble performance as part of Connecticut College's Sacred Dance Festival, was chosen from over two thousand submissions statewide to be featured 

What Makes a Dance Sacred?
Article in Sacred Dance Guild newsletter, Fall 2010

What makes a dance sacred? The concert presentations at Sacred Dance Guild Festivals show how varied the answer to that question can be. The Festival 2010 Concert featured a piece that differs from many of the traditional types of sacred dance. “And the Angels Sigh” was a touching, extended work with an equally touching story behind its creation. We asked choreographer Christine Vozella to share her process experience with us.

“And the Angels Sigh” by Christine Vozella

“And the Angels Sigh” made its world premiere in 2007, and was a choreographic act of love for my mother, who passed from cancer in 2006 at the age of 75. As you can imagine, it was a difficult time for my family. My husband understood why I left after dinner to travel to my parents house to spend the night and help out, my 10 year old daughter was resentful because her dying grandmother was taking me away from her, and my father just seemed to fall apart. It never occurred to me during my mother’s final passage that I would someday choreograph this 27 minute piece for her, and I honestly don’t know how it occurred to me to take this challenge on. Perhaps one of the dancers in the company I am a member of (Encore Dance Ensemble) suggested it. I really can’t remember how the idea came to life (so to speak), but I do remember that all of the company members embraced the idea. I think that sometimes a path appears in your life and you just start walking down it. None of us realized at the time what a challenging journey it would be, especially me, as I tend to throw myself into things, naively thinking, “Oh come now, Christine, how difficult can this be, anyway”?

I started off with many different ideas floating around in my head, and then a few eventually bubbled to the surface, so I kept those. Then, based on those ideas, I started to look for music. I knew these ideas were different enough from each other that I would need a variety of music. I immediately felt lost, then panicked, thought it would never work, calmed down, decided to think of it as a problem solving activity, panicked again, and eventually figured it out. This was my cycle almost every time I ran into a twist or turn in the path, which was pretty often.

There were a few things that were clear. I knew I wanted a swing‐dance piece because I remember when I was a little girl my parents used to jitterbug in the kitchen. I also remember my mother hanging clothes out on the clothesline, even in the winter, so they had that fresh smell, and I remember singing in bed at night and my mother yelling up the stairs to stop singing and go to sleep. These little cameo memories came together for me in the first section of “Angels Sigh”, when a dancer puts another younger, precocious dancer to bed, and then dances with her clothes basket to a swing piece called Opus #1. Other dancers join in with their baskets, creating a sort of dream sequence for the young dancer to watch. Once that section was together, I started to think about who these dancers represented. I thought they represented different people, and then I realized they represented different variations of me – or was it my mother? It was about that time that I thought I should go back into therapy, and then it became clear to me that this WAS my therapy! And, I realized the young dancer was me, and showing all this through the eyes of a child seemed safe for me as a choreographer. When my mother died, I remember feeling like a lost child, so this choice began to make sense. The young dancer I chose to work with was my daughter, and her work was of a high caliber that added grace and dignity to the piece. Although we talked about it, she seemed outwardly unaffected by the deep meaning of her role in the piece. I think that which stirs adults is different for children, so I let it be. I then realized that the adult dancers represented my mother at different times in her life. It is not that I planned it from the start, but rather that it revealed itself to me once I started down the path.

A few more sections were added, and the piece started to become a story. I needed to make sure the varied music and the movement wove together. I was not sure how I was going to do that, but taking after both my parents, I worried about it. I worried about it morning, noon and night, and then I worried that I worried. I remember feeling particularly stuck trying to choose music for a section about my mother’s nursing profession, of which she was very proud. I was talking to an artist friend of mine about it, and she asked me what kind of music my mother liked. “Well”, I said, “She was crazy about Pavarotti”. And so I started to listen to Pavarotti’s music, and chose one of his pieces. Finally, the dancers helped me with choreographic problems, and were as patient as they could be with me and the process, as it took some time to put together.

As we were working on the last 2 sections, which I had decided would be about my mother getting sick, and then about her dying, things became really emotional for all the adult dancers. I was not sure what I would do musically, and then it became apparent to me that I needed silence to move the dancers in the second to last section, and I chose a [Aaron] Copeland piece that was both sad and uplifting, for the very last section. We started working it as an improvisation, and then eventually it became more choreographed. I added moments to it that I remembered had happened to me – when my mother kissed my hand, and when I tried to get her to take an interest in food, or music, or SOMETHING, and then realizing that it was the course of the disease, and all I could do was watch it happen. And, when the dancers would become emotionally involved in the improvisation, I would ask them to “keep that”, adding that gesture, head, leg or touch to the work. And yes, sometimes we would all cry a little as we worked through it. It became deeply meaningful for us.

Although I worried all through this process, I believe that it was worth it. I had two short repeats of music that I think tied the piece together musically, and I tied the movement together by having the young dancer appear throughout the story as the common thread, weaving it together. I also used river rocks as part of the weave (I have loved rocks since I was a child) throughout the story, which began and ended next to these rocks, which formed an altar of sorts. Looking back, I think the altar came to be as a combination of a time with another friend, and my Christian background. And, I brought one basket back in at the very end, and the young dancer stood in it as she wept goodbye to her mother. I love baskets.

Although self tormented at times during the choreographic process, looking back on it I can safely say that I am content with my choices. As we continued to choreograph and refine the piece, I was often overcome with thoughts of my mother, reliving those last 6 months with her over and over again. I felt her presence in a quiet and un-obvious way. There were no bolts of lightning. Maybe that is because she was always a practical person. I felt that she would be proud of me and this accomplishment, but probably angry that I used her nurse’s cap as a prop. I hope she forgives me.

Looking toward my next choreographic adventure, I believe that if I just walk down that path (I mean, how difficult can it be to just walk down a path), although anxious because I am not always sure of where that path will lead, I will be comforted in knowing that if I am patient, and think (and perhaps worry a bit), the right musical choice, movement, gesture, prop, or meaning will eventually reveal itself. I don’t know, but maybe that means that in the end I believe in myself. Or, maybe I believe in fate. Or, maybe I believe in God. But, I do know that having good friends along the way that truly believe in me doesn’t hurt, either.