Carmen De Lavallade "As I Remember It" at the Kennedy Center, Wash DC Oct30, 2014

The Dance of Immortality CARMEN DE LAVALLADE As I Remember It

Carmen de Lavallade — Beauty, Finessed with Ethereal Charm

Beauty, finessed with ethereal charm.

On October 30, 2014, before a capacity audience at the Kennedy Center’s Terrace Theater in Washington, DC, Carmen de Lavallade presented As I Remember It—an autobiographical performance rendered through memory, voice, film montage, and movement.

No—she did not wrench her now-octogenarian muscles, nor strain that elongated neck, nor summon virtuosic pirouettes or toe points. She did not need to.

Her story mesmerized the audience through fleeting captions of video, photography, and film— fragments of a life fully lived, gently assembled.

In one of the most intoxicating dramatizations, she recreated Creation itself— God shaping being in His own image and likeness— sculpted through dance choreography and echoed by song that resonated with fervor.

In the next sketch, she wailed at the penance of aging, speaking tenderly and fiercely to her fragmented body, to its diminishing dimensions and enduring spirit.

All of this was accomplished in a single costume: a draping fuchsia sweater layered over a deep maroon, full-body dance leotard.

The artistry of Carmen’s tempered, aged movements—mirrored against reflections of her younger, nubile, and exotic self—became a Dance of Immortality.

With only a stool, a tall-back chair, and a curtain of cascading vertical bulbs, she conjured shadowed life moments alongside the greats: Pearl Bailey, Alvin Ailey, Josephine Baker, and other titans of her era.

She introduced us to the marriage of like spirits— her meeting and union with Geoffrey Holder. So potent was his magnetism that she married him four months after their first encounter.

As the performance closed, she conceded—gracefully—to human mortality through poetry and dance. Behind her, the curtain revealed archival imagery of Carmen dancing with Geoffrey, alive with rambunctious exhilaration and feisty artistry.

I held back tears—because memory does not die. It dances.