Dancing through violence: hope and tolerance define Ohad Naharin's Israeli troupe.

Bag searches may be commonplace at venue entries these days, but the metal detectors set up at the Brooklyn Academy of Music in May 2002 sparked a mixture of surprise and understanding. Performances by Israel's Batsheva Dance Company coincided with one of the most violent periods in the Middle East crisis: Security guards stationed at BAM's doorways scanned bags and patrons for weapons.

A little over an hour later, at the end of Batsheva's performance of Artistic Director Ohad Naharin's choreography, the same patrons who entered the theater noting an air of tension and uncertainty rose in thunderous applause for the performers. The piece, Naharin's Virus, is a gripping, beautiful, at times alarming merging of dance and words. Virus treads the line between art and politics as the dancers' movement intertwines tortured moves, pedestrian gestures, and contemporary dance vocabularies. Its score was created by Habib Alla Jamal, a Palestinian with Israeli citizenship, in collaboration with Sharma Khader, an Arab-Israeli, and Israeli Karni Postel. Excerpts of Austrian playwright Peter Handke's absurdist work Offending the Audience were recited.

Joseph Melillo, executive producer of BAM, said that seeing the piece performed in Israel was "a transformative moment. You understood completely where tolerance of various cultures could come together through art [and] divergent belief systems can find commonality."

Naharin is no stranger to political controversy. In 1998 he made international headlines when Israel's president, Ezer Weizman, questioned a section of his Anaphase (1993). The Batsheva Dance Company had been invited to perform the piece as part of a celebration of Israel's fiftieth anniversary. Weisman asked the choreographer to change "an act of taking off the clothes," as Naharin explained, that accompanied a traditional Jewish song. Not wanting to compromise the integrity of his work, Naharin offered his resignation as artistic director of Batsheva. In solidarity, the dancers refused to perform in the celebration.

Naharin remained their artistic director, which was a relief to Batsheva's artists. "Most of our work is by Ohad," dancer Yaniv Nagar explained. "You cannot be here if you don't like what he does, and people who come to Israel need to come for a good reason because the living conditions are not easy."

The choreographer began his career training and performing with Batsheva, a Tel Aviv-based company created by Baroness Batsheva de Rothschild in 1964 with Martha Graham. In 1974, Graham created Jacob's Dream for the dancers and chose Naharin, a relative newcomer, for the role of Esau.

Born in Israel and raised on a kibbutz, Naharin, whose mother was an Isadora Duncan-style dancer, started dancing after completing his military duty in Israel. "I was drawn to dance way before my service in the army," said Naharin, during a telephone interview from Tel Aviv. "Since I remember, I was really turned on by physical experience, by movement, by watching other people move, by watching animals, by watching structures and other compositions and how they occupy space. It was always something that was fascinating to me."

Naharin's dancing appealed to Graham, who invited him to New York to continue his training and perform with the Martha Graham Dance Company. He accepted, but left after the 1975-76 season and performed briefly with Maurice Bejart's Les Ballets du XXme Siecle in Brussels and with Israel's Bat-Dor Company. He then returned to New York and began making dances. "I learned to choreograph by choreographing," Naharin said in his deep, gravelly voice. "Dance Theater Workshop and Riverside Church gave me places to create."

Besides glowing reviews, Naharin received invitations to create works for international companies. In 1981 Batsheva commissioned works from him, and in 1987 Jiri Kylian asked him to choreograph for Nederlands Dans Theater. Naharin became known as a creator of haunting images, combining movement with costumes, props, text, and music in evocative ways. His movement vocabulary differs depen-ding on the subject matter, but it's distinguished by a juxtaposition of force and subtlety. Elements of lunacy, recklessness, humor, and delicacy reverberate in his dancers' steps and interactions. His work can be seen as a confluence of Graham's commitment to drama, Bejart's sense of sleek design, and a kibbutznik's knowledge of ensemble power.

By 1990 Naharin longed to return home. "I was always homesick," he admitted, and described Batsheva's invitation to head the company as "an answer to a wish to come back. Batsheva was where I started to dance," he remembered.

Ze'eva Cohen, an Israeli choreographer based in New York who worked with Batsheva in the 1980s, said, "Ohad is not only a great artist, but he has the authority to direct the company.... I think Batsheva is blessed to have found him. Under Ohad there is total discipline, in part because he has anarchy in the choreography."

HIS CHOREOGRAPHY RANGES FROM WORKS like Axioma 7 (1991), a group work full of beauty and vitality, to Off-White (1992), a funny and poignant duet for Nederlands Dans Theater III. (He still occasionally choreographs for Nederlands Dans Theater and mounts works on other companies, such as Hubbard Street Dance Chicago and the Juilliard Dance Ensemble.) Although Naharin's choreography constitutes the bulk of Batsheva's repertoire, he has invited outside choreographers to work with the company, including Kylian, William Forsythe, Tero Saarinen, Wim Vandekeybus, Angelin Preljocaj, and John Jasperse.

Playing the role of director sometimes conflicts with Naharin's needs as a choreographer: "We are supported by the government. We have to show stability. We have to work within a budget, and I understand and accept all of this," Naharin explained. "But there is something really fragile about [directing a company]--our ability to change our minds every day, our ability to learn new things and to let go of old ideas if we have new solutions. I wouldn't like it any other way."

The political turmoil in Israel has made him appreciate his company even more. "What we have created here at Batsheva is a real oasis," Naharin said. "It is structurally amazing and totally opposite from what is going on in Israel. We have a society in Batsheva of people who respect human rights. People who work here are generous, intelligent, and willing to listen to each other--everything that I see outside in my country right now is quite opposite."

Naharin endured a great personal loss when his wife, Mari Kajiwara died of cancer in December 2001 at age 50. A dancer with Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater whom many considered brilliant, Kajiwara married Naharin in 1978 and became a lead dancer and the rehearsal director for Batsheva. Naharin was devastated by the loss and couldn't find words to express his grief for some time.

Under Naharin's direction, Batsheva continues to attract dancers from around the world. Nagar, now in his sixth year with the company, said the originality of Naharin's movement language and his openness to his dancers' ideas and movement appeal to him. The director's two or three classes a week start with an improvisational warm-up and then exercises at the barre adapted from ballet; company dancers round out their practice with classical ballet.

"His movement has a lot to do with dynamics and circles in the body," Nagar explained, "like putting oil in the joints for the rest of the day. It helps us to perform. Ohad believes you have to give in to movement and not fight it. He believes that 'weakness' is not something wrong, but something good--something that [one] can be in touch with, connected to."

For Batsheva's dancers, a powerhouse of fearless movers, the BAM engagement offered a way to show American audiences another aspect of their country.

"There are many sides to Israel that people wouldn't know if they only watch the news," said Yoshifumi Inao, who danced in Japan and Switzerland before joining Batsheva. "I don't feel my attitude as a professional has changed because of any political situation. If there was anything affecting me, it's the culture. To perform abroad is, for us, presenting Israel [in more depth] than what people see on TV."

Naharin's success defies the idea that extreme violence interferes with the creation of beautiful art. Several of his dancers spoke to the power of performance in helping them cope. "The situation is very sad and suggests that we must just hope and believe in good," dancer Inbal Yaacobi explained. "In the past few months I'm going more and more to see performances just to clear my head. I find it very comforting."

Bag searches and metal detectors at theater entrances may improve security, but it's the performances within these venues that are testaments to beauty, strength, and faith. Works like Naharin's Virus transport us, make us question our assumptions and biases, and propose the possibility of living in peace.

Kate Mattingly writes about dance for New York- and Connecticut-based publications and has taught ballet and dance history in New York and Europe.