Dudley Williams, an East Harlem prodigy who dazzled
Alvin Ailey company audiences as a leading dancer for
more than four decades, performing into his 60s, died
over the weekend at his home in Manhattan. He was 76.
A spokesman for the company said Mr. Williams was
found dead in his apartment on Sunday. No cause was
given, but the medical examiner’s office said the death
was not considered suspicious.
found dead in his apartment on Sunday. No cause was
given, but the medical examiner’s office said the death
was not considered suspicious.
Mr. Williams was dancing with the Martha Graham
Dance Company when he was recruited by the
choreographer AlvinAiley as a last-minute replacement
for an Ailey troupe memberin 1963. He performed with
the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater until 2005,
continued to dance with Paradigm, a trio of older dancers
he formed with Carmen de Lavallade and Gus Solomons
Jr., and taught at the Ailey School, on West 55th Street in
Manhattan, until he died.
Dance Company when he was recruited by the
choreographer AlvinAiley as a last-minute replacement
for an Ailey troupe memberin 1963. He performed with
the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater until 2005,
continued to dance with Paradigm, a trio of older dancers
he formed with Carmen de Lavallade and Gus Solomons
Jr., and taught at the Ailey School, on West 55th Street in
Manhattan, until he died.
At 75, in 2013, Mr. Williams returned to the stage, at City
Center, for an Ailey company New Year’s Eve performance
of “Rocka My Soul in the Bosom of Abraham,” the rousing
finale of the troupe’s classic “Revelations,” which was
choreographed by Ailey.
Center, for an Ailey company New Year’s Eve performance
of “Rocka My Soul in the Bosom of Abraham,” the rousing
finale of the troupe’s classic “Revelations,” which was
choreographed by Ailey.
Mr. Williams’s signature solo, “I Wanna Be Ready,” was also
from “Revelations,” in a repertoire that included Ailey’s
“Reflections in D,” “Love Songs” and “Blues Suite”; Donald
McKayle’s “Rainbow Round My Shoulder,” Lucas Hoving’s
“Icarus,” Louis Falco’s “Caravan” and his role as Nelson
Mandela in “Survivors.”
from “Revelations,” in a repertoire that included Ailey’s
“Reflections in D,” “Love Songs” and “Blues Suite”; Donald
McKayle’s “Rainbow Round My Shoulder,” Lucas Hoving’s
“Icarus,” Louis Falco’s “Caravan” and his role as Nelson
Mandela in “Survivors.”
Judith Jamison, who succeeded Ailey as artistic director,
described Mr. Williams as the epitome of “the male lyric
modern dancer.”
described Mr. Williams as the epitome of “the male lyric
modern dancer.”
Critics lionized him. In The New York Times, Anna Kisselgoff,
the chief dance critic, wrote in 1984: “Mr. Williams manages
to inject the smallest gestures with an understated but
powerful poignancy. One of the finest American dancers of his
era, he has carved a niche for himself as that rare performer
who can dazzle technically without for a moment losing sight
of the dance’s dramatic resonance.”
the chief dance critic, wrote in 1984: “Mr. Williams manages
to inject the smallest gestures with an understated but
powerful poignancy. One of the finest American dancers of his
era, he has carved a niche for himself as that rare performer
who can dazzle technically without for a moment losing sight
of the dance’s dramatic resonance.”
And reviewing a City Center performance of “Reflections in
D” for The Times in 1991, Jennifer Dunning wrote: “Mr.
Williams’s long arms reached out from time to time, curved
like a powerful bird’s wings yet stretching with subtle inflection.
But the solo, set to music by Duke Ellington, is essentially a
long gentle spiral of continuous movement, rooted mostly in
place. The dance needs the focus Mr. Williams brings to it, but
the murmured eloquence is all his.”
D” for The Times in 1991, Jennifer Dunning wrote: “Mr.
Williams’s long arms reached out from time to time, curved
like a powerful bird’s wings yet stretching with subtle inflection.
But the solo, set to music by Duke Ellington, is essentially a
long gentle spiral of continuous movement, rooted mostly in
place. The dance needs the focus Mr. Williams brings to it, but
the murmured eloquence is all his.”
Dudley Eugene Williams was born in East Harlem on Aug. 18,
1938, to Ivan Leroy Williams, a carpenter, and the former
Austa Beckles. His brother, Ivan Jr., is his only immediate
survivor.
1938, to Ivan Leroy Williams, a carpenter, and the former
Austa Beckles. His brother, Ivan Jr., is his only immediate
survivor.
Dudley was dancing from a young age. Indeed, as he recalled,
his mother enlisted an aunt to find someplace for him to take
dance lessons “before,” as she put it, “he breaks my lamps.”
She skimped to buy a piano, too.
his mother enlisted an aunt to find someplace for him to take
dance lessons “before,” as she put it, “he breaks my lamps.”
She skimped to buy a piano, too.
He flopped at tap dancing and was taunted in the East Harlem
housing projects for his devotion to dance, but he persisted,
spending days at the movies with a friend watching dance
films. When, as a 12-year-old, Dudley stopped to hear his
uncle sing at Sheldon B. Hoskins’s theater school, he peeked
into a dance studio and decided to stay, paying for his lessons
by hawking copies of The Amsterdam News.
He also became a proficient pianist and applied for admission to the music division of the High School of Performing Arts. When he was told his application came too late, he was asked if he had any talent besides piano playing.
housing projects for his devotion to dance, but he persisted,
spending days at the movies with a friend watching dance
films. When, as a 12-year-old, Dudley stopped to hear his
uncle sing at Sheldon B. Hoskins’s theater school, he peeked
into a dance studio and decided to stay, paying for his lessons
by hawking copies of The Amsterdam News.
He also became a proficient pianist and applied for admission to the music division of the High School of Performing Arts. When he was told his application came too late, he was asked if he had any talent besides piano playing.
“I said, ‘I can dance,’ ” he recalled in 1978. “I thought I’d take dance and switch over after a half term, but I never did.”
After graduating in 1958, he formed a dance company called The Corybantes, which toured union halls and Army bases; danced with the May O’Donnell, Donald McKayle and Talley Beatty troupes; and studied briefly at the Juilliard School before transferring to Martha Graham’s school on a scholarship. He was invited to join her company in 1962.
Mr. Williams said he had been planning to leave the Graham troupe eventually when Ailey asked him to replace a dancer who had quit his company just before a season in London. Mr. Williams danced with both companies for a few years, though he grew unhappy with the Graham troupe. “I bought a steamship ticket to anywhere, just to get out,” he said.“Finally I had to choose,” he said, “and when I told Ms. Graham, she slapped me across the face. I deserved it.”Working for Ailey was no cakewalk.“Alvin used to rehearse us until curtain; he was brutal in that way,” Mr. Williams said. But he preferred him over Graham, he said, “because he was doing dances that weren’t about legends.”“They were more about today people,” he went on. “His work was more humanly possible for me.”Even so, Mr. Williams redefined human possibilities. He suffered a knee injury in the 1960s and was told he would never walk again, but he was back onstage in two weeks after a regimen of Pilates exercises. Most dancers stop performing professionally around 30. For Mr. Williams, that was not even the halfway mark. He pushed his slight 5-foot-8, 130-pound frame to its fullest.“I feel that God has given me a gift,” he said, “and if you don’t use it, shame on you.”In 2003, when Mr. Williams was 65, Ms. Jamison said: “Dudley is surrounded by dancers two or three generations younger than he is, and there he is, very spry and very much like a grasshopper. Dudley has a lot to teach, by just the movement of a hand.”He taught by example, explaining that a dancer needed a reason for every movement.“You can’t just put your hand out,” he said. “You have to know what happens when you put your hand out and your body goes with it. And I dance to the music, no matter what it is. I stretch my whole body — you have fingers, so use them — to every plink of the piano. You must listen to the music and love it, and then you can do the dance differently every time.”Ailey, who died in 1989, tried to recruit Mr. Williams to be his assistant, but Mr. Williams demurred.“I said, ‘You know, I still want to dance,’ ” he recalled in 2003. “I had a need to dance and I still do.”“It’s a hunger — doing it until you do it right,” he added. “It’s a nervousness that puts me on the stage, it’s palms sweating, feet sweating, wondering, ‘Am I going to hit this position?’ ”He added: “You’re always striving for a perfect performance. And that will never happen. When it does happen, that’s when I think you should give it up. The challenge is gone.”
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