DANCE : Tall Paul’s Still in Step : After 40 years, the novelty hasn’t worn off for choreographer Paul Taylor. In fact, ‘Funny Papers,’ his latest assemblage, is danced to novelty tunes of the past.

Paul Taylor, who 40 years ago founded the modern dance company that bears his name, is surely one of the most accomplished and respected choreographers of our time. In recent years, he has been a Kennedy Center Honoree and the recipient of the National Medal of Arts--clear indications of his role as an American artistic treasure.

At the age of 64, Taylor might be expected to be resting on such laurels. But he is anything but complacent. Every year he creates one and often two new dances. And his trademarks--versatility and his ability to take his audience by surprise--remain unchanged and undimmed. In 1991, “Company B,” a witty yet poignant full-company work inspired by vintage Andrews Sisters songs, quickly became a signature work. Anything from a Debussy sonata to the 1960s pop tunes of Harry Nilsson can be a springboard for a Taylor dance, each one depicting its own vivid, particular world. Darkly mysterious rituals; sly evocations of human failings and foibles; calmly harmonious depictions of idealized communities--the Taylor repertory has always defied categorization.

This Friday and Saturday at the Cerritos Center for the Performing Arts, the Paul Taylor Dance Company will demonstrate its founder’s eclecticism with works spanning 32 years of his choreography. The 1962 classic “Aureole” and 1983’s “Sunset” share the program with two of his most recent dances: “Spindrift” and “Funny Papers.” “Spindrift,” from 1993, is set to Arnold Schoenberg’s String Quartet Concerto (after Handel). The 1994 “Funny Papers,” for which Taylor assembled and adapted choreographic material by six of his dancers, makes use of what Taylor calls “novelty tunes”--such unforgettable items as “I’m Popeye the Sailor Man” and “Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini.”

Recently, in his cozy 1823 townhouse in New York’s SoHo district, Taylor sat for an interview with his amiable English springer spaniel, Budd, by his side (and occasionally interjecting his own commentary). Surrounded by family portraits and his own artwork, Taylor sounded anything but mellow and satisfied. His informal, friendly demeanor and gentle voice couldn’t mask his frustration when the discussion turned to the current state of the arts in America, and the financial and cultural pressures facing even as established and successful company as his.

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Question: Is the music usually the primary stimulus for a new Taylor dance? For instance, was the Schoenberg score the impetus for making “Spindrift”?

Answer: Unless I’m working with a commissioned score, I have the music first. While I’m looking for the music, I usually know a general area I want to work in and look for a piece that’s suited to that idea. I picked the Schoenberg because I think it’s a wonderful piece of music and very danceable. It’s evident he was drawing on material from an earlier musical era, but to my ear, he dropped that idea very early in the piece. It sounds like Schoenberg to me, all the way.

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Q: Lately, you’ve often chosen songs rather than purely instrumental music. Does that put a choreographer at a disadvantage, having to compete with lyrics and the strong response they can evoke?

A: I think it’s a help, in a way--if you don’t “Mickey Mouse” the lyrics. I’m a visual person primarily, and if I have something to watch, I tend not to listen. For “Funny Papers,” I had decided early on to use those songs. I must say I decided reluctantly, because I’ve had these records for years and had never thought of using them for a dance--not because I didn’t like them, but because they’re funny songs and I wasn’t sure I could pull it off.

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Q: Speaking of “Funny Papers,” was it as much fun to put together as it appears?

A: It really was--I think for the dancers too. I had seen some of the choreography that several company members had done, or they had given me tapes. I knew Sandy Stone had been a cheerleader in her early days, and I figured she knew some cheerleading routines, so I drew on that for the section that is set to “I Am Woman.” We had an agreement that I could fiddle with their original material as much as I wanted to. And, of course, I chose different music than they had used.

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Q: All of your recent dances have costumes, and sometimes sets, by Santo Loquasto, and lighting by Jennifer Tipton, and each has such a distinctive look suited to the individual flavor of each piece. How do the three of you arrive at such an ideal collaboration?

A: Isn’t it amazing? A lot of it has to do with us having worked together for so long. Santo and Jenny discuss things between themselves a lot more than I do with either of them. In fact, I hardly talk with them at all about what I want them to do. I usually just show them the piece, and sometimes I have some suggestions or guideline. It’s just a kind of chemistry. They both understand what I’m after without my having to go into a lot of detail. I certainly feel blessed with their help. The pieces would never look as good without them.

Usually, Santo comes out to my place in Mattituck, on Long Island. He looks around my house--I have these weird-looking things I’ve glued together, and he knows my particular likes: bugs, shells, clouds. Without my asking for them, he often will work them in, finding a way to make them appropriate to the dance. The house overlooks (Long Island) Sound. For “Spindrift,” with its cloud formations, I’m pretty certain--although we never talked about it--that the idea come from Mattituck.

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Q: Your dancers always come across as strong individuals. How do you make your choices for company members?

A: I make a conscious effort not to pick someone who looks too much like someone who is already in the company. I’ve always loved the idea of a company like ours being a microcosm, so that all shapes and sizes--within limitations--are desirable. I prefer that to a collection of what I call Chiclets.

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Q: How would your company be affected by the possible cutting back, or even elimination, of the National Endowment for the Arts?

A: From the beginning, when they first announced the establishment of the NEA, I said to my company manager, “This is great, but let’s not count on it, because administrations change every so often, and nobody knows how long this thing is going to last. So let’s not get too dependent. Let’s keep trying to do this so that it can pay for itself somehow.” But to tell the truth, we have depended very much on the NEA since they began, and they have been wonderful to us. During the last few years, however, the funds have been cut and cut and cut.

Unfortunately, everybody’s expenses have increased so much. The costs of keeping a company like this together have skyrocketed, and grants have diminished. It’s not just us, it’s everybody. Any source of funding being cut at this point is very crucial. The situation looks very dark; it is very serious, as far as we’re concerned. I’ve never felt terribly secure about the company’s future. At any point, the whole thing could fall through.

Excellence and creativity don’t necessarily attract funding, especially now, when grants and foundations of all kinds are focusing on education and social services. This country doesn’t care about art. Some individuals do; it’s important to many people, but unfortunately the country as a whole does not have artistic traditions. In a way, for modern dance this has been an advantage, because we don’t have the weight of tradition that choreographers have had in Europe. We have had no real censorship along the way. We have not been encouraged, but nobody has tried to stop us or shut us up. We could do any damn thing we wanted; we had nothing to lose. But at the same time, we also have no support. The NEA, yes, but as you know, that’s an iffy thing.

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Q: When your company faced a crisis in 1976, wasn’t the NEA instrumental in saving it from disbanding?

A: No, it wasn’t so much the NEA, although of course they were a help. At that time, we went broke because some performances were canceled, and there didn’t seem to be anything to do but disband. We had a press conference to announce that, which was reported in the New York Times. A man in Washington who had been our sponsor there read about it and arranged a benefit performance, which helped us a lot. Another man who read it volunteered to be president of our board, and he helped to get things together.

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Q: For a long time, touring was what kept most dance companies financially healthy. Your company still has quite an active touring schedule, so doesn’t that guarantee a brighter financial picture?

A: The problem is that touring no longer pays for itself. That used to be our real dependable source of income. As long as we got the dates, we knew there would be money coming in. Now that is no longer the case. These days, it costs us money to tour. One problem is that the local presenters used to get support from the NEA, and now they (don’t). As a result, they are less able to afford a lot of things, and they are tending more and more toward booking things they think will be popular.

They’re more interested in what they consider (will have) commercial success, and the media is largely responsible. They are not interested in what we have thought of as high-class art. It’s all focused on the lowest common denominator.

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Q: Do you have any comment about the recent highly controversial Arlene Croce article and the ensuing debate about “victim art”? (In “Discussing the Undiscussable,” which appeared in the New Yorker, Dec. 26, 1994-Jan. 2, 1995, Croce gave her reasons for not going to see Bill T. Jones’ “Still/Here”--a dance that grew out of workshops with the terminally ill. She criticized those “representing themselves to the public not as artists but as victims and martyrs.”) Many people are now framing the debate about artistic merit in political terms.

A: I think a lot of her points were right on the button, but it wasn’t always stated well. I think the main issue is excellence rather than politics. Elitism has become a dirty word, which I don’t understand at all. To me, elitism means refined taste, and making an effort, on the consumers’ part, to involve themselves in whatever the artist thinks.

I don’t do message pieces as such. They’re not without meaning, but I don’t have any agenda. Dance is a poetic form; it’s not reportage or statements. I have to respect the audience and hope that they will bring to the work what they’re able to. I put in ideas that are there to be found, but I don’t like cramming anything down their throats.

* The Paul Taylor Dance Company performs “Sunset,” “Spindrift,” “Aureole” and “Funny Papers.” Cerritos Center for the Performing Arts, 12700 Center Court Drive, Cerritos. Price: $10-$40. Friday-Saturday 8 p.m. (800) 300-4345.