A spirit that was ever airborne

Bella Lewitzky, the internationally known dancer and choreographer who died in Los Angeles on Friday at 88, acquired many of her ideas about movement, dance and independence while growing up on her father’s chicken ranch in San Bernardino. In July 1998, she spoke with writer Barbara Isenberg about her early years for Isenberg’s book, “State of the Arts: California Artists Talk About Their Work.” (William Morrow).

Following is an excerpt from that book, which will be reprinted in paperback next spring by Ivan R. Dee Publishers.

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[As a child] I lived in a valley surrounded by high mountains, and that suited me just fine because it meant you didn’t know what was on the other side. This made it wonderful and exciting and mysterious. Having a place to go over formed part of my philosophy of life. You could throw your arms out as wide as you wanted wherever you were in the valley and never touch the mountains. They were all still very far away.

My father bought a chicken ranch in San Bernardino, but he had studied art and continued to paint. Always. That was the first real lesson I learned about life and probably the most important. You work at anything to earn a living, but only if you have already found a way to make your life worth living.

My sister and I used to guard his paintings. It was the act of making the painting that was complete for him. He had no need to keep it or have somebody else look at it. Since my sister and I were not complete in the act of making them, our completion was to have them to look at. We were the appreciators. Canvas was very expensive, and he would paint over his paintings to save canvas. We learned to grab the ones we loved and hide them somewhere so we’d have the paintings, and he’d have the act of painting.

As early as I can remember, I was a mover, in ways you don’t consider dance. They’re movement experiences. I would try to fly, and if I ever met anyone who’d never tried to fly, I’d say, “Go back. Your life is missing something.”

I learned about motion when I was quite young, maybe 7, and many a bruised bone did I have jumping off our chicken ranch roof. I was sure what was wrong was merely timing. I had not put my arms and legs in the right places at the right time to sustain myself in the air. Otherwise, of course, I could fly. Other times, I was positive that if there was a good strong wind and if you knew how, you could sit in it and the wind would support you and carry you forward. Many a bruised bottom came from this assumption. But they were important movement experiences. I knew I could fly if I got it right. I knew I could sit down in the wind, and the wind would support me if I got it right.

The thing I learned, probably from my father, was: Dream it, then bring it into practice. I still use that, I realize, except I know better now how. I don’t fall down and I don’t break my neck trying to jump off the roof.

I also did other less interesting things like make up movement plays. That’s when I learned that when you are the maker of the piece, you can also cast yourself in the best role. I learned that very young. So a lot of just-plain-reality experiences guided me.

You have to have a vision. You have to have a place to go. You have to have a stairway to heaven to be able to move to another place, always of course to a better place.