Museum of Contemporary Art San Diego

To celebrate the newest exhibition, Alex Katz: Theater & Dance, MCASD spoke with Susan McGuire. As a longtime member of the Paul Taylor Dance Company (PTDC), McGuire spent 12 years dancing with PTDC, during which she experienced firsthand the collaboration between Paul Taylor and Alex Katz.

From an unconventional entry into the company to performing major roles in renowned works, McGuire reflects on building a new piece with Taylor himself—and the creative dynamics that followed. She also recounts her experience with Katz, not only through costume and set design but also portraiture, sharing memories of sitting in full stage makeup for one of his portraits in his Soho studio.

In this Q&A, McGuire candidly discusses the beauty, and occasional awkwardness, of wearing Katz’s costumes and navigating props like metal dogs and giant cabbages. She reflects on the shared love of gesture seen in both Katz’s paintings and Taylor’s choreography and gives insight into this powerful partnership.

Can you describe your experience with Paul Taylor and the Paul Taylor Dance Company?

Oh my goodness. Well, I didn't get in in an audition. I had been dancing with Martha Graham, and I left without any prospects of anything else. The Paul Taylor Company was having an intensive downtown, so I thought let me just take the intensive and see what it feels like to do his movement.

Paul was watching, which is very uncharacteristic of him to watch classes, and nobody knew why. And then about three days into the week, he called me over to him. He said my company is going on the road, but I need a dancer to choreograph on. So, for the next three months, the two of us made a whole new piece [what was to be Dust], and when the company came back, I had to teach it to everybody. They were very professional about all of it, but it was not fun. He had actually created a six-minute solo in the middle of it, and he said, if I take you into the company, this solo will be yours.

Of course he did take me into the company, so I had a six-minute solo. They [the company] were not very happy about that either. They all banded together and went to Paul to complain, but they were never mean to me. It was a very odd and interesting way to get into a company. And I'll tell you, during those three months, we [Paul and I] really bonded.

This was 1977. I stayed with him for 12 years and eventually directed his second company and his school. By the time I retired, I felt like I had been used in every possible way, and all of it was wonderful.

Today, I still reconstruct his work. I'm still very much a part of that family.

During your 12 years dancing with the Paul Taylor Dance Company, did you interact with Alex Katz?

I was in nine of the pieces that Alex Katz and Paul Taylor collaborated on and danced in very many of Alex’s designs.

Post Meridian, Junction, Party Mix , Orbs, and Private Domain—I eventually did all of those, and so I wore the original costumes. That was my first introduction.

Then, Alex asked me if I would sit for him, which I did. He had this fantastic apartment in Soho where I sat in his studio.

He wanted me to sit in full stage makeup, which made me a little bit uneasy. I thought, when you put stage makeup on, you try to balance out your features [and make them visible from far away]. It's not something you want to necessarily see closeup.

I remember going into his bathroom and putting on my full stage makeup, including false eyelashes. He did my portrait. He would joke and laugh—it was fun sitting for him.

But you know what? I never asked to see it. I think I was just too embarrassed. Isn't that funny? I don't even know where it is, whether it was ever part of an exhibit or whether he just kept it in his studio. I have no idea.

What was it like working with Alex Katz as a costume designer for dance?

[Modern dance companies] were really interested in pairing things down. They didn't want the body covered up.

When I looked at Alex's paintings, even if they were of dancers, I was just looking at the painting. I wasn't equating it to dance really at all. Even when he was dealing with costuming, I found that Alex always remained the painter.

Alex’s costuming did not always necessarily outline the dancers’ bodies in an aesthetically pleasing way. He was more interested in the design. We were all a sort of canvas.

For instance, if you look at something like Junction, a lot of the color is cut off mid-thigh, which for a dancer is really unflattering [as it disrupts the line of the leg].

I do want to say that dancers will have their own ideas about the costume they're wearing. In the moment, we may not see what the costumer is after.

Paul absolutely demanded that we behave well, even if you go into a fitting and you hate what you're being dressed in. You have to absolutely keep it to yourself. Then in hindsight, when you know a little bit more and you're a little bit more mature, you realize that yes, that's the way that piece should have been costumed.

The costumer and the choreographer are always right.

The exhibition, “Alex Katz: Theater and Dance,” features sets designed by Alex Katz for Paul Taylor’s works: a large cube from “Polaris,” as well as cut-out dogs, modeled after Taylor’s own pet, from Taylor’s “Diggity.” Do you have any memories of working with these props?

Oh boy. Those dogs were metal and they had sharp edges. Metal. Yes. They were metal. You had to develop a sixth sense, a kind of radar. We were beside ourselves because of course they were put in the studio for every rehearsal after Alex had made them. We didn't say anything to Paul or Alex, but we were so afraid we were going to hurt ourselves. Nobody ever did.

Though at one point, one woman's skirt caught the edge of a dog and sent it flying across the stage. Then there was that great big cabbage...

It was wooden and maybe five feet in diameter. The guys had to bring it on, and there was a dancer behind it. Once it was on center stage, they were to push it over so it would reveal the dancer. One time they didn't bring it on far enough…they pushed it over and flattened one of the dogs!

The cube was interesting because it was originally put together with some kind of tape. On occasion, a dancer would hit it. At one point they knocked it down completely and had to close the curtain and open it again. It took a while to maneuver our way through the cube.

Many of Alex Katz’s work focuses on a singular gesture , such as the smallest movement of the hand or difference in facial expression, each emoting something different. Dance practices that same attention to minute changes in gesture. What are your thoughts on this shared attention to gesture?

They were both fascinated with gesture. Paul described himself as a reporter. He loved watching people.

He loved observing ordinary people doing ordinary things, and particularly the way in which they gestured, whether it was with their head or with their limbs, their hands, their face. He was really fascinated with the every day.

That [the exploration of gesture] is one of the things that I grew to like about Alex's work.

And sometimes, Alex’s work was just a partial picture of somebody [like in Dance 6 or Dance 7]. I think about Paul’s Private Domain. There were curtains in the front on the proscenium, like hanging drapes. They might have been three feet wide and then there would be a three feet wide opening, and so on. Nobody could see the whole dance. Depending upon where you sat in the audience, some of the movement would actually be obscured.