Dalcroze Eurhythmics with Annabelle Joseph

Even though we had never met, Annabelle Sachs and I had both studied under the same piano teacher in our native Pittsburgh. Sometime in the 1960’s, my teacher phoned our family telling us to tune into Channel 13 right away. Annabelle was performing on TV, broadcast from WQED’s blackened stone building at Fifth and Bellefield. That’s how I first learned about Annabelle and her remarkable pianism and musicianship: by sound as well as by reputation.

By the time I was 18, I was itchy for my first foray away from home and took my BM degree at Michigan. U of M subscribed to the eclectic curriculum model, and we were introduced to Orff, Kodály, and Dalcroze. There were no separate courses in eurhythmics. When I came home to Pittsburgh for a summer, I thought I had better run down to Carnegie Mellon to catch what I was missing. I enrolled in a week-long eurhythmics workshop with professors Marta Sanchez and Annabelle Sachs Joseph at the helm.

Marta and Annabelle, master and devotee, were a great team. They complemented each other beautifully. Respectively regal and genial, both were brilliant and committed. Their guest teachers included Brunhilde Dorsch, then at Duquesne, and Fran Aronoff who came in from New York. In the workshop setting, the usual boundaries between teacher and student seemed more relaxed, and the camaraderie of like-minded participants provided a warm backdrop. Thrilled to absorb it all, I jotted in my notebook, trying to preserve what we were given. Soon, I realized that those words on the page were just a snapshot of something already inside me that Marta and Annabelle had been drawing out.

I learned the name of my favorite activity, Plastique animée. Physicalizing the music inside with my whole body—not just with my piano fingers or with my singing voice—was pure joy. It was exhilarating to let go and take risks while still maintaining laser-like focus on musical problem solving. On the last night, Annabelle and her husband Jay had us all over to their home for a magical outdoor evening of dinner and folk dancing. Everyone had a blast, even quiet me.

Decades later, I was once again a Pittsburgh resident, this time, a university faculty member. For several years, while teaching by day, I was a graduate student by night. My graduate advisor and Annabelle had been doctoral classmates at CMU. Happily reconnecting with Annabelle, I mentioned that I sure felt rusty. Still teaching, Annabelle graciously invited me to be a guest at the summer workshops and a ringer for her new senior citizen sessions.

How the circle turns! CMU’s Dalcroze Training Center was now named, in memoriam, for its founder, Marta Sanchez. And here I was at Annabelle’s keyboard and on my feet once again. By far the oldest student in the classroom, I met new friends: the two Stephens and the late Herb [Henke], Leslie [Upchurch], Judi [Cagley], as well as caring classmates. Only my wits were halfway nimble as I stretched on the floor with Michelle [de la Reza]. I jumped over to the piano to sound out Prokofiev’s theme when Herb’s CD got stuck. I fell down while skipping, and I laughed at myself. Over the next several years, I returned, bringing a few of my musical theatre students with me to Annabelle’s Dalcroze Immersions and summer workshops.

And I remembered that the best things never change: Annabelle Joseph is evergreen, still wise, passionate, and generous. Because of you, Annabelle, the beat goes on, and thousands of us will always be connected. Here in Pittsburgh and around the world, through Marta, you, and Stephen, the Dalcroze lineage continues in the best master-apprentice tradition. We use what your predecessors and you have given us, each transforming pedagogical tenets into our own unique blends of applied musicianship. We are better musicians—and better people—for it.

Thank you, Annabelle, for fighting the good fight. May your tribe increase. And may you enjoy every blessing during your well deserved academic retirement. See you again someday at the workshops!