It’s Women’s Month, and National Artist for Dance Alice Reyes is definitely a lady worth recognizing
By Tats Rejante-Manahan
In the ‘70s, the vision of Alice Reyes—her dancer’s carriage with turned out feet, her long black whiplash hair, and just her mere presence in the room—could prove intimidating. This is how I felt when I first saw her in the dance rehearsal hall of the CCP Dance Company, formerly the CCP Summer Dance workshop, then later to be re-named Ballet Philippines. I was tagging along then with CCP museum director Ray Albano, and his friend and mine, Johnny Manahan, then a visual artist. As a ballet school drop out, I thought to myself that I would never survive the persona of this seemingly formidable and awesome woman, then in her early 30s, but with the confidence and assuredness of a seasoned veteran in the field.
A scholar of the Music Foundation of the Philippines, a grantee of the John D. Rockefeller Scholars’ Program, Alice chose to attend Sarah Lawrence for a Masters degree in Dance where she was exposed and nurtured to the styles of early modern choreographers. The list of her teachers read like an enumeration of dance legends: Hanya Holmes, Alwin Nikolais, Murray Louis, Merce Cunningham and others. Before leaving the Philippines, she had been an early member of the newly formed Bayanihan Dance Co. at the Philippine Women’s University. Her achievements henceforth are well documented in the book, “Alice Reyes and Ballet Philippines, A 50-year Legacy in Dance” published in 2019, shortly after her citation as National Artist for Dance.
Through the years, the veneer of Alice’s once perceived countenance slowly faded from my estimation, and in its place was unveiled a warm, kind hearted being, steadfastly standing on solid principles and goals, a description echoed by close collaborator for many years, Nes Jardin, who rose from being a dance apprentice to company manager, a position equivalent to executive director. In her, he found a personable colleague who never did things alone, but worked with like-minded people who shared her same aspirations and vision, open to suggestions and collaborations. Apart from work, times well spent included Alice cooking dinner for all who came, light hearted chats about life as well as private confidential ones. Most conversations with her eventually led to work, how to improve what was at hand, singularly keeping the goals in mind, sans compromises.
The birth pains of hatching a dance company, proposed by Alice to then CCP President Lucrecia Kasilag were peppered with everyday challenges like brown outs, which left the new company bereft of not just light but air conditioning, as well. Steadfastly undeterred, Alice asked the dancers to bring flashlights and candles, and amid the sweat and smoke, continued the work of perfecting productions despite the discomfort. Determined as she was to keep the focus on perfecting what she set out to do, she nevertheless deflected the attention to herself to the extent of re-naming her two dancer sisters so as not to be accused of nepotism. With the suggestions of Ray Albano and Johnny Manahan, who sometimes contributed in creating
affordable ( aka “cheap,” “inexpensive”) set designs for the dance pieces, her two sisters were re-christened “Denise Tarcia” (say the name fast to get the joke) and “Edna Vida.” (The works of Albano and Manahan are now archived in the Singapore National Gallery. Both artists became two of the CCPs 13 artists in the ‘70s).
Where dance repertoires were concerned, what seemed to be a radical dance syllabus adapted by Alice required the dancers to master both classical ballet, as well as the modern techniques Alice was attuned to. Because of this, negative reactions from other dance masters eventually caused the company members to question the veracity of this practice. These two dance genres employed counter techniques and the training in both demanded a reformatting of physical placement, alignment and attack for each one. Classical ballet sought to defy gravity and counted on graceful, fluid movements, while the modern technique emphasized weight and angularity, which were sometimes contorted.
But as early as the time of Vaslav Nijinsky, perhaps the most famous male dancer to emerge in the early 20th century, perfecting both dance genres was already being attempted. Nijinsky was first and foremost a classical dancer. Nijinsky’s work, however, as a choreographer where he employed modern dance techniques, proved its success as seen in L’apres-Midi d’un Faun which was considered one of the first modern ballets.
In the light of the negative resistance to Alice’s vision from so-called “purists,” Alice’s calm and assuring advice to the dancers was simply to dance well, which lifted all the dancers’ spirits, including that of Edna, her younger sister, who was one of the dancers likewise puzzled by her older sister’s perspective.
Alice’s vision was proven well-based; for in the years that followed, the 400 works by various company choreographers, mentored by Alice, included a merry mix of both modern and classical dances. The modern pieces more likely than not, had Filipino themes. It was these numbers, presented in performances abroad that defined the work of the company to be uniquely Filipino, underscoring the very name of the company, proudly Ballet Philippines.
Sometime in the late ‘80s, Alice left for the US, taking up residence in San Francisco in a beautiful home in Belvedere, standing on the waters of the San Francisco Bay, overlooking the Golden Gate bridge, with her second husband, Ted Van Doorn and her 2 children Christopher and Sarah. This period, from Nes Jardin’s memories, was perhaps the toughest challenge Ballet Philippines faced. Nes, and Alice’s sister, Denisa, were left in charge of the ballet company. But survive they did, despite the anticipated challenges. A succession of dancers stepped in as artistic directors. Following Denisa were Agnes Locsin, Cecile Sicangco, Noordin Jumalon, Alden Lugnasin, Agustus “Bam” Damian III ( who had returned to the Philippines after almost 20 years of dancing in European companies as a principal dancer), Alan Hineline and Max Luna, and Paul Morales.
In mid-2017, upon the invitation of Ballet Philippines’ current President, Margie Moran Floirendo, Alice came as Artistic Director once more, to help usher in Ballet Philippines’ 50th golden year in February 2020. The reality of having just nine dancers in the company hit Alice hard enough to break into tears, asking herself what she was to do now, at the age of 70. But the response from the dancers who had left the company was heartening, as one by one they returned upon hearing of Alice’s return. The years leading up to the 50th year showcased the dance company’s best. But as the golden anniversary date approached, amidst controversies and hints of the coronavirus pandemic, Alice’s characteristic resiliency came to the fore. Typically, her response to challenges seemed to fuel her energy, always with the dancers’ benefits as a primary goal. With the pandemic shutting down dance companies, the 50th anniversary presentations did not materialize, despite the rehearsals that did not cease. When the CCP shut down, Alice was aware that keeping dancers off the dance floor would be detrimental. Dancers, like athletes, need to stay in shape in order to perform. Denying them a practice space would be the artistic death of them. It was like starting over, re-naming the group of displaced dancers as the CCP Dance Workshop, squatting on a makeshift floor at the lobby of the CCP main theater. Fund raising efforts by concerned “friends of dance” contributed support to individual dancers in the early months of the pandemic, raising enough to produce presentations till May 2020, which culminated in a dance feature on the tertulia of the Vibal Foundation for National Heritage Month.
She went so far as “adopting” a few dancers to live with her when they lost their living accommodations with the pandemic. In those few months, her home turned into a cooking sanctuary with some dancers mastering some dishes good enough for a few people to get a dinner invitation from Alice to show off the dancers’ cooking skills.
Seeing no end in sight for the pandemic, the dancing needed to go on, leading to a second wave of fundraising efforts, this time with a Christmas presentation as the goal. “ Tuloy ang Pasko,” was a joyous celebration choreographed and scripted by the dancers themselves to the music of National Artist, Ryan Cayabyab. This time it was professionally shot by a video team led by director Carlos Siguion Reyna.
In late 2020, Alice made several proposals to the CCP to raise funds for the dancers. At the suggestion of CCP President Nick Lizaso, CCP Chairperson Margie Moran Floirendo looked for funding to help displaced artists. In January 2021, the Professional Dance Support Program (PDSP) opened up for displaced dancers from the Philippine Ballet Theater, Ballet Manila, Steps Dance Center and the CCP Dance Workshop to proceed with dance training, choreography and performances. Between January to June 2021, eight new dance pieces by young Filipino choreographers were featured in CCP’s Dance On series. A second tranche of funding came in and this time, the PDSP adapted an educational thrust, providing lectures, training and creative workshops and outreach programs to regional dance students and dancers, as well.
It is easy to label Alice as a “diva,” as she dares to dream and dares to share her dream. Perhaps it’s her relentlessness in pursuing that goal; perhaps it’s her uncompromising stance in getting to the utmost and very possibly, the best result. For whatever the reason, it produced much and benefitted many.
Yet it was never about Alice.