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Rousseve '81 gives art a conscience

Personally and artistically, David Rousseve '81 is about fusion.

In one of his works, Rousseve, an acclaimed choreographer of Creole descent, combines Wagner with a narrative of 18th century slaves. Another performance details the story of the first black actor in 1930s Denver with a backdrop influenced by the grandeur of ancient Greece. In another piece, Rousseve juxtaposes the tale of an early 1900s Creole sharecropper — his grandmother — with an account of his personal experiences as a black gay man in late 1980s New York City.

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Over the last decade, Rousseve's highly inventive and compelling mixture of sights and sounds has not gone unsung. Since founding his company, "REALITY," in 1988, Rousseve and his troupe have won countless accolades — three commissions from the prestigious Brooklyn Academy of Music, seven National Endowment for the Arts grants and even an award for Film Choreography at Germany's IMZ International Film Festival.

The New York Times has heralded Rousseve's hybrid productions as a "shattering dance-theater" of "fearless physicality." And, the Chicago Sun Times nearly beatified Rousseve, deeming his work "a call for grace, a cry to reunite with some large universal framework . . ."

Yet, before the dance world hailed Rousseve as "inspired and ingenious," he searched for years to find his voice and, as he said in a recent interview, "to reconcile my social and humanistic concerns with art."

Before he realized the potential of his craft "to deepen ways of communication and find a common humanity," Rousseve was a naive but talented kid from Houston, a middle-class African American suffering from "culture shock" at the still white and wealthy Princeton of the late 70s and a struggling artist who no longer wanted to be a "tool" of others' expression.

Childhood in Houston

One sees the roots of Rousseve's socially and politically energized work in the artist's childhood. Born in Houston in 1959, Rousseve was raised in a South that was undergoing one of the greatest social changes in American history: desegregation.

"Growing up during desegregation expanded my world, but it was a tough time for the cities," Rousseve said. As his productions against prejudice have later testified, this "tough time for the cities" left an indelible impression on the boy.

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At the same time that the conflict around Rousseve was shaping his social consciousness, the dancer's mother had enrolled him and his older siblings in classes at the Alley Theatre in Texas. Praising his mother's parenting, Rousseve said, "She wanted to expose us to everything and this was just one of those things."

At age 5, Rousseve was already performing in children's shows. By 9, he found his picture on the cover of TV Guide for his performances on Sundown Streethouse, a local network version of Sesame Street. Yet, even before his first taste of fame, Rousseve "knew that I liked [the arts] and that if I didn't do something with theater, then I would definitely do something with the arts."

Pursuing this passion throughout his years at Bellaire High School, he remained heavily involved in theater. He joined a dance club at school that did mostly jazz and even took a few classes at the Houston Ballet. However, though Rousseve thought that his high school arts scene "was a lot of fun," even then he said, "I needed a vehicle that offered me more."

A Knock at the Door

And then came a letter from Princeton.

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"I had never heard of Princeton in high school . . . I heard of the University when they sent me an application that I think they sent to all African Americans at the time who had done well on the SATs," Rousseve explained. Later, when Rousseve was accepted, he and his family could not say 'no' to an Ivy League School, and Rousseve could not refuse the chance to be so close to the arts world of New York.

For Rousseve, however, Princeton was far from the ideal college of the brochures.

"I hated the social atmosphere," Rousseve said, describing a Princeton that consisted of primarily white, all-male eating clubs. "The elitism and the fact that they were almost proud of the old-boy Ivy League attitude, never having been a part of that or even having heard of it, it was a total culture shock."

Yet, Rousseve did not let the negative aspects of his Princeton experience prevent him from excelling.

At the University, he thrived academically, eventually graduating Magna Cum Laude with a degree in politics and certificates in African studies and the Program in Theater and Dance. He became a lead protester with the People's Front for the Liberation of South Africa and was active in the social scene at the Third World Center. "I went there every weekend," he said. He dated and was engaged to a female Haitian classmate, Brigitte LaForest '81.

And, of course, there was his art. A founding member of the still-existing dance company Expressions, he excelled in the classroom under the tutelage of theater professor Carol Elliot and especially under the guidance of renowned dance teacher Ze'eva Cohen. Said Rousseve, "When she danced, it would speak to me, despite the fact that we came from very different worlds."

Finding a Voice

Cohen's connections to New York opened a whole new world for Rousseve. With the support of his parents, he passed up spots at the law schools of Columbia University and New York University to dance at Jean Erdman's Theatre of the Open Eye. In the Open Eye's productions — which "fused all kinds of art" — Rousseve recognized traces of the "vehicle" he needed.

Finally, training a few years later in Toronto, Rousseve knew it was his time to stop simply dancing and to choreograph his own work. "I was frustrated at this point, dancing was great, but I felt like a tool of others' words," Rousseve explained. "At that point, dance was too removed from the old world. It needed a social consciousness, and I wanted to express my own voice." In 1988, Rousseve returned to New York and started REALITY.

A Struggle for his Art

Looking at the unprecedented success of REALITY, looking at only the prizes and critical acclaim, it is easy to forget the real significance of Rousseve's work as well as the difficulties he has faced.

Over the last decade, Rousseve, who is now also a Professor of Choreography at UCLA, has contributed to transforming part of the landscape of American dance. His innovative mixed media approach succeeded when very few in dance were mixing forms. His pieces, with their focus on racial and social issues, triumphed while the New York avant-garde was, in his words, "mostly white and European . . . doing dance simply for dance's sake."

However, despite his continuing accomplishments, Rousseve has struggled with the great problem of contemporary American artists. Decreased funding over the last few years and Americans' lack of interest in dance-theater productions like his own have prevented him from achieving even more. Commenting on his company's struggles, Rousseve said, "The funding is not there right now and is being threatened from all possible corners, but even more threatening than the [lack of] money is that the appreciation is not there."

Unable to overcome these fundamental problems in producing his work, Rousseve has at least answered his critics. Some questioned his ability to create outside of the autobiographical framework of early pieces like "Pull Your Head to the Moon" and "Urban Scenes/Creole Dreams" — performances based on his life and on the experiences of his Creole grandmother, the daughter of slaves. Rousseve responded with the well-received "Love Songs," a tale featuring the escape of two 18th century slaves.

Others have argued that his focus on race and ethnic identity can contribute only to a greater division. However, to Rousseve, these critics are missing the point. "That's the irony or paradox of starting with issues of identity," he said. "You use identity as a platform, but you find a way to transcend identity."

The American Artist

Some, like Cohen — Rousseve's former teacher and colleague when he returned to teach briefly at the University in the mid-90s — believe that Rousseve's struggles with identity make him a truly American artist. Commenting on Rousseve, she said, "When David is tapping so deeply into his identity . . . and the intertwining of black and white, in that way, he's very much an American artist."

Yet Cohen praises Rousseve for more than his contributions to American art. "If you want to look at Americaness as the process of globalization," she said, "then he is a paradigm for the nowness of culture."