Close-up Magic | Jacob’s Pillow Dance

To be at Jacob’s Pillow during its world-famous dance festival is a bit like attending a dreamy New England summer camp. Look around the rural 225-acre grounds of this Becket, Massachusetts, institution and you’ll see lithe, graceful dancers walking from one performance venue to the next, or chatting with friends on the rolling green lawn; mingling among them are dance patrons who have come from cities far and wide to enjoy the mountain air. Encircling it all are stunning views of the Berkshires.

For 10 weeks every summer, performers from across the globe descend on this dance center, school, and theater space, affectionately known as “the Pillow,” to take part in the longest-running international dance festival in America. This year the event marks a major anniversary, its 85th, with a lineup including ballet companies from Miami, Washington, Montreal, and Cuba, as well as modern dance masters Jonah Booker and the Paul Taylor Dance Company.

But longevity isn’t the only thing that sets Jacob’s Pillow apart. Most studios here aren’t air-conditioned, and in mid-July the insects are humming and the humidity is thick. A fine sheen of sweat gathers on the dancers’ brows; their hair darkens with moisture. Close enough to touch, they are, inescapably, real humans with living expressions. It’s the intimacy of the performance spaces that makes the experience magical.

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I sit down next to Terence Marling in the semidarkness of the Doris Duke Theatre. We’re a few rows back, looking down on the now-empty stage. The theater has the sacred hushed feeling before a performance: the silence preceding the soft sounds of dancers stretching and marking their steps, the faint rustling of the sound crew double-checking cords and wires.

Marling is the artistic director of Hubbard Street 2, a modern dance company based in Chicago. This is his fourth time at the Pillow. He’s come once as a dancer, twice as a rehearsal director, and now as an artistic director. With his thick black glasses and slightly rounded shoulders, Marling doesn’t look like the classically trained dancer that he is. But you can tell from his passion about dance that although his body might be still, movement is constantly on his mind. “Once a dancer, always a dancer,” he says.

The members of Hubbard Street 2 begin rehearsal. When they move, it’s as if gravity doesn’t exist. They slide across the stage, fall into each other’s arms. They twirl and spin with dizzying speed, then, just as quickly, suspend a leg into a breathtaking arabesque. They duck, jump, and lay flat on the ground, limbs askew.

There is a delightful disregard for convention that embodies the essence of the Pillow. Yet as casual as the environment can feel, the dance being created is concerned with seriousness and perfection. Of the work Hubbard Street 2 makes, Marling says, “There is no correct thought to have. You don’t have to look for answers. What it makes you feel, that is the value of it. Wherever your mind wants to go, then follow it. That’s the joy of art.”

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Much about Jacob’s Pillow has remained unchanged in the years since dancer and choreographer Ted Shawn first bought this land, then a family farm, in 1931 to create a home for dance. Many of the buildings retain their original architecture; standing proudly in the middle of the campus is the 620-seat Ted Shawn Theatre, built in 1942 from hand-hewn native pine and crowned with a weathervane depicting Shawn’s leading dancer, Barton Mumaw. Visitors navigate from one venue to the next via gravel pathways and simple painted signposts. Far from the highway, here you’ll find little to distract from the verdant scenery, birdsong, and, of course, the world-class dancing. “For every dancer, it’s on the bucket list,” Marling tells me.

On the day of my visit, rain had forced a scheduled outdoor performance inside, to the tiny Ruth St. Denis Studio. Competition for passes to indoor performances can be fierce, and I felt grateful to find a seat on a folding chair in the back. Without fanfare, Boston Ballet dancers Paul Craig and Corina Gill ran gracefully to the front of the studio, arm in arm. A baby next to me cried, and as the duo started dancing, some people rose to their feet, craning their necks to see. A woman entered late. The baby cried again. But the music of Mendelssohn filled the space, and the dancers, no more than a few feet from the front row, gazed somewhere beyond the crowd. The rain stopped and the sun streamed through the windows. Toward the end, Craig lifted Gill high over his head, twirling. The couple smiled beatifically before exiting the stage, the crowd clapping.

It’s the necessity of movement that draws people to pursue a tough career in the highly competitive world of dance. If you’ve made it to the Pillow, you’ve accomplished quite a bit already. Dance requires hard work, dedication, an interest in perfection, and an intensity of spirit. It’s that shared interest in movement as a form of expression that brings dancers to Jacob’s Pillow, with some, like Marling, returning annually.

Although he isn’t performing this year, Marling is overseeing his young company’s performance of Mariko’s Magical Mix: A Dance Adventure, an all-ages-friendly piece weaving together dance, shadow puppetry, and a mixtape-style score. Marling’s young son now comes with his father to rehearsals, sitting as quietly as his father, admiring how the human body can bend, fold, twist, and turn. And if he squints his eyes, it looks like the dancers are flying.

The Jacob’s Pillow Dance Festival’s 85th anniversary season runs through August 27. For more information, go to jacobspillow.org.

Kelsey Liebenson-Morse was born in Wisconsin, and spent part of her childhood in Florida, but considers New England home. Kelsey prefers to be outside and still re-reads the Harry Potter series occasionally. She can often be spotted riding her bike or running. She believes herself to be the only Kelsey Ananda Liebenson-Morse in the world, but has no way to prove it.