Tall, regal and incredibly focused, Judith Jamison is a force of nature who commands attention both on and off the stage. As one of Alvin Ailey’s muses, she transformed his choreography into unparalleled masterpieces. As his successor, she expanded upon the master choreographer’s vision by leading the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater (AAADT) to new heights of creativity, global prominence and success. EBONY talked to Jamison as she began her 20th year as the company’s artistic director—and has her eye firmly set on retirement in 2011—about the importance of dance in our culture, the Ailey legacy and why a fitted dress made her evil.

EBONY: What made you decide to dance?
JJ: Because my mother knew I was going to be a long, skinny child. But the whole idea was that I was born lanky and she didn’t want a child who was not graceful.

EBONY: Do you remember the first time you were onstage?
JJ: We did “I’m an Old Cowhand (From the Rio Grande).” I had on pink ballet shoes, dungarees and a red shirt. I couldn’t talk before I went on, and to this day, if I am nervous about something, I will not talk.  Onstage, I remember being blinded by lights. I did something and it must have been the right thing because I remember the applause. That’s what did it. Then I could speak afterwards.

EBONY: Did you know that you were a prodigy?
JJ: That serious kind of focus was there all the time. I was born with that. So even at 14, when I was teaching kids who were nine, I was a mean old teacher. I wanted them to aim for perfection because that’s what I was doing.

EBONY: How did you meet Agnes de Mille?
JJ: When I was a student at the Philadelphia Dance Academy, she came to town to teach a master class at eight at night. Somebody had to convince me to go. At the end of the class she said, “Would you like to come to New York and be a guest at the American Ballet Theatre?” It was a ballet revival called The Four Marys, starring Carmen de Lavallade, one of my idols.

EBONY: What a way to begin.
JJ: I’ve always felt that my path has been guided. I grew up in the church and I believe in God and that direction. She didn’t ask me to come by accident. So there I was in New York City for the first time. I took my first plane ride with the American Ballet Theatre. We went to Chicago to dance at the Opera House. Then I came back and was gigless because there were no Black people running around in ballet theater.

EBONY: So how did you come to Ailey back in 1965?
JJ: I failed an audition for Donald McKayle’s company and Alvin was sitting on the steps. To make a long story short, he called me two days later and said, “Would you like to join my company?”

EBONY: Let’s talk about Cry.
JJ: Cry was done in 1971 and was dedicated to all Black women, especially our mothers. Of course, Alvin didn’t tell me all that when he was choreographing it—because he had to choreograph it in less than two weeks. And he couldn’t find the music for the first section. The first section is the hardest section in the world because it has that cloth—which represents babies, the world and dead bodies.

EBONY: Were there any snags?
JJ: We had rehearsal the day of the ballet’s premiere. I came out four hours before curtain in the original costume, a white dress and my lips down to here. I didn’t wear fitted dresses because I have a very high waist; I’m also built wide and have no hips. I was evil that day and so was Alvin. I heard him grunt. So they ran out to Capezio and bought two long-sleeved leotards, stitched them together and added my “Wade in the Water” skirt and sewed me into the costume because the zipper was loose.