



























 

Feldenkrais Research Journal​ • ​volume 6​ (2018-2019) 
 
Reviews 
 
 

Gaga, Give Me More: 
The Spectrum of Human Movement in Two Dances by Ohad Naharin 

 
Helen Singh-Miller 
Visiting Lecturer, Massachusetts College of Art and Design; Fellow, Film Study Center, Harvard 
University. Feldenkrais Practitioner and Artist, Cambridge, Massachusetts; Director, Storefront for 
Somatic Practice 

Contact: ​hsingh-miller@massart.edu 
 

Introduction 
Through a comparative account of the Feldenkrais Method​®​ and Gaga, movement language and 
pedagogy developed by Israeli choreographer Ohad Naharin, Helen Singh-Miller explores the spectrum of 
human movement presented in two of Naharin's dances, both performed by the Batsheva Dance 
Company in the last year. 

Keywords 
freedom in collaboration, the role of rest in dance pedagogy and performance, the overlap of the 
Feldenkrais Method and Gaga movement language 

Copyright ©:​ The copyright for this paper remains with the author(s). 

Please cite:​ (First published in the) ​Feldenkrais Research Journal, volume 6​; 2018-2019. 

Service marks:​ The terms Feldenkrais​®​, Feldenkrais Method​®​, Awareness Through Movement​®​, ATM​®​, 
Functional Integration​®​, and FI​® ​are service marked terms of the International ​Feldenkrais​®​ Federation 
(IFF) and Feldenkrais professional guilds and associations in many countries. In keeping with academic 
conventions, they will not be service marked in the entire text as may be required in nonacademic use, 
but only for the first and most prominent use of the terms. In recognition that these phrases are formal 
terms referring to specific practices within the Method, and to the Method as a whole, capitalization of all 
the words in each term has been retained.  

 
Published by the International ​Feldenkrais​®​ Federation (IFF) ​https://feldenkrais-method.org 
Available online at ​https://feldenkraisresearchjournal.org 
 

 
 

mailto:hsingh-miller@massart.edu
https://feldenkrais-method.org/
https://feldenkraisresearchjournal.org/


 

Reviews 
 
 

Gaga, Give Me More: 
The Spectrum of Human Movement in Two Dances by Ohad Naharin 

 
Helen Singh-Miller 
Visiting Lecturer, Massachusetts College of Art and Design; Fellow, Film Study Center, Harvard 
University. Feldenkrais Practitioner and Artist, Cambridge, Massachusetts; Director, Storefront for 
Somatic Practice 

 
Naharin’s Virus 

Following a performance of ​Naharin’s Virus​ (2002) at Jacob’s Pillow Dance Festival in Western 
Massachusetts this past August, 2018, choreographer Ohad Naharin talked about the 
importance of convincing people of your ideas rather than making demands. Over the course of 
his 28-year tenure as artistic director of the Batsheva Dance Company, a position from which he 
was just stepping down, his collaborators—dancers, costume designers and government 
agencies—had taught him this much. Admittedly, Naharin confessed with a Cheshire Cat smile, 
the lesson had been hard-earned. 

While Naharin clearly valued the learning, it was difficult to perceive how his piece, ​Naharin’s 
Virus​, performed by Batsheva’s Young Ensemble just before the question and answer session, 
could be seen to illustrate the art of persuasion. The dance adapts Peter Handke’s ​Offending 
the Audience​ (1966), a play without a plot, an exercise in provocation, at least when it first came 
out. The narrator of the piece, here played by dancer Evyatar Omessy, is overbearing, to say 
the least. From an elevated platform above and just behind a seven-foot blackboard spanning 
the stage, Omessy oversees a good part of the dance. At one point, he steps out of his starched 
suit—revealed, in the process, to be a standalone prop—and onto the dance floor below. Both 
on and off the platform, he hurls (more or less) creative insults at the audience—“you 
overworked gravediggers”, “you perfect sons of bitches”, “you wrong numbers”—until 
concluding, “You are welcome here. Good night”.  1

If the tone is obnoxious by design, the intention behind other aspects of the dance is less clear. 
For example, the two-tone body-stocking worn by each dancer, including Omessy—beige from 
neck and fingertip to buttocks and black from there down to the tips of the toes—is minimalist. 
‘Adorkable’, one could argue, in its resemblance to early 20th century exercise outfits, but 
awkward nonetheless. The dancers look, and often move, like so many anthropomorphized 
viruses, which is to say, mindless copies of themselves. Refeket Levy’s costumes, which, on 

1 List of insults from Macaulay 2018. 

 
Singh-Miller • ​Feldenkrais Research Journal, volume 6​ (2018-2019) 2
 



 

closer inspection, are actually leotards (with long sleeves and fingers) and tights, feel inhibiting; 
the text, if occasionally provocative, is mostly abrasive; the use of chalk, contrived, and who 
doesn’t love chalk!  

One way of interpreting this inhibition is through the art direction and choreography. From this 
perspective, avant-garde costumes, sentences and set design could be seen to serve an 
overarching masochism, in that they never let up or provide room for the dancers to breathe. 
Even the incorporation of drawing, immediate and ephemeral with a great capacity for 
nuance—an obvious dance partner—lacks spontaneity. The contortions into which full-bodied 
tracing leads the dancers’ stockinged limbs is characterized by the same numbing tension as 
every other aspect of the piece. It’s intense, as they say. When you start at this level of intensity, 
where do you go? How do your dancers experience and communicate the significance of a 
climax, or, for that matter, the relative significance of any note?  

Near the opening of ​Naharin’s Virus​, dancer Shir Levy takes a prolonged step onto the empty 
stage and, hugging the blackboard, begins to draw. The painstaking, overwrought manner of the 
movement is already apparent in these first few moments and with each steadfast inch of the 
clenched chalk our curiosity wanes. Other solos follow, some less rigid than others. Periodically, 
the dancers pair up or all 16 line up at the edge of the stage, “taunting” more than “offending” 
the people that have paid to watch. The tension carries on, against some invisible resistance, 
spines extending and contracting impossibly, little appearing to give. 

Some of the relentlessness can be attributed to Handke’s play, certainly. Although it’s not 
entirely clear how an outdated assault on an Austrian audience is to be taken in the Berkshires 
in 2018, or in Tel Aviv in 2002, when the piece was first presented. In the 60s, Handke was 
attempting to awaken what he perceived to be a complacent theater-going public by drawing 
their attention to their own experience—of watching a play, before a stage, in seats. His effort 
was part of a movement in theater, film and art more generally to highlight the theatrics of 
artistic production and reception. The movement was more or less political, a commentary on 
the disengagement of the leisure class. The primary audience Naharin conceives in ​Naharin’s 
Virus​ may be conservative Israel, an audience Naharin is not afraid to offend, and who he 
perhaps aims to alert not only to their own position but to what he sees as the avoidable effects 
of their actions, or inaction. Naharin’s long-standing support of Palestinian-Israeli reconciliation 
is no secret and his use of Israeli-Arab composer Habib Alla Jamal’s rhythmical crescendos to 
punctuate his dance is not without resonance. At the same time, the ambiguity of the subject 
matter in ​Naharin’s Virus​ could be intended to cast a wider net, implicating us all.  

Such provocation may no longer be effective considering what “the audience” has been through 
in the intervening years—TV, Twitter, current events mediated to greater and lesser degree. 
Still, it’s exhausting, and not only for the audience. The dancers themselves appear to suffer 
from the ceaseless direction. As Alastair Macaulay wrote for The New York Times after seeing 
Naharin’s Virus​ at The Joyce Theater in Manhattan, also last summer: 

 
Singh-Miller • ​Feldenkrais Research Journal, volume 6​ (2018-2019) 3
 



 

The climate onstage... is never one of freedom. There’s always a sense that Big Brother 
is watching. The company performs Gaga, a movement style developed by Mr. Naharin 
to heighten sensation and imagination and to go beyond familiar limits. But even when 
the 16 dancers are at their wildest, they look driven rather than driving. (Macaulay 2018) 

Gaga and Feldenkrais Method​® 

I caught a ride from Boston to the Berkshires last August fully expecting to enjoy a performance 
of ​Naharin’s Virus​. Several dancers and fellow Feldenkrais practitioners had recommended the 
work, and the classes I had attended at the Harvard Dance Center with Mario Zambrano, 
Batsheva dancer and acclaimed writer, were consistently invigorating. I had heard from Israeli 
friends that Naharin’s mother was a Feldenkrais practitioner. The potential resonance between 
the Feldenkrais Method and Gaga, Naharin’s beloved movement pedagogy, was intriguing in 
many respects.  

Indeed, Naharin’s mother, Sofia Naharin, studied with Moshe Feldenkrais in the 1960s and then 
trained as a practitioner in Tel Aviv in the 80s. Although Naharin talks little about the connection 
or influence himself, Gaga can certainly be considered in terms of Feldenkrais Method practice 
and principles. Some of what Naharin himself has said about Gaga could be said about the 
Feldenkrais Method. In ​Mr. Gaga​ (2015), a documentary film by Tomer Heyman, Naharin 
explains, ‘What is unique about Gaga is the demand to listen to our body before we tell it what 
to do’. Speaking more personally, he says, ‘The idea of physical pleasure from physical activity 
was totally part of how I conceive myself as being alive’ (Heyman 2015). 

So what is Gaga, exactly? I was fortunate to hear Naharin tell the story of Gaga during the 
‘Q&A’ session at Jacob’s Pillow. Originally intended to break open the movement capacity of his 
dancers, by 1998 Naharin was offering classes for people in other creative and administrative 
roles at his company, and, soon enough, for the general public. Whether working with dancers, 
arts administrators, or lay-people, Naharin stressed that he is pursuing an alternative to 
mainstream exercise and dance education, one that welcomes and awakens the mental, 
physical and emotional dimensions of our shared humanity. 

The overlap of Gaga and the Feldenkrais Method is notable in other regards as well. Gaga, 
named for the nonsense sound that babies make, proposes an organic functional base—from 
rolling around and crawling to walking—for the development of highly differentiated technique 
(in particular, the use of sequential movement in the torso). Gaga and the Feldenkrais Method 
alike use repetition and variation to help participants shed unhelpful habits and realize more 
appropriate, efficient self-use. Both methods favor verbal instruction and shun mirrors. 
Something Naharin is perhaps still figuring out how best to facilitate—the creative agency of the 
individual—is a central concern for Gaga and the Feldenkrais Method.  

The hour long lessons typical of Gaga and the Feldenkrais Method are communicated in large 
part through spoken language. In Feldenkrais lessons, the words employed are intentionally 

 
Singh-Miller • ​Feldenkrais Research Journal, volume 6​ (2018-2019) 4
 



 

neutral, commonplace and concrete, where in Gaga, adjectives, adverbs, made-up words and 
metaphors fill the studio and buoy each person’s discovery of “flow”, one of the more colloquial 
terms used by Gaga teachers (although Naharin-esque flow can be quite distinct, displaying a 
recognizable consistent activation from head to toe).  Over two decades, Gaga has developed 2

somewhat of a specialized, if flexible, language, and while one could argue that the Feldenkrais 
Method has done the same (over a much longer interval), I think the difference is in both degree 
and kind. In Feldenkrais lessons, “constraint”, “differentiation” and even “possibility” mean more 
than they might in everyday conversation, and that can take some explaining. “Bell hands”, 
“Dead bird” and “Spine like a chain” are popular lessons with vivid pictures for titles.  

But while the use of imagery to help illuminate particular actions is not uncommon in the 
Feldenkrais Method, Gaga employs imagery more freely, and the images are not usually tied to 
specific sequences of movement. In Gaga, “marionette threads hold you”, “helium balloons lift 
the knees”, your “spine like seaweed”, “pulling the bone out of the flesh (Hogstad 2015: 27-28)”. 
Other Gaga words or instructions, like “float”, “quake”, “shake”, “be silly”, “give into sensation”, 
“don’t be shy of the effort”, “smile to each other”, “fall into movement” and “enjoy the burning 
sensation”, can mean quite different things, in terms of body mechanics, to different people 
(Hogstad 2015: 27-28). I wonder how these instructions get underneath our ideas of things, the 
way a Feldenkrais lesson can upend and reintroduce us to the gesture of a smile, for example. I 
wonder how these Gaga phrases lead to increased differentiation, or to what extent they do. 

There is a core overlap in the Gaga and Feldenkrais Method lexicons: Attention to internal 
sensation. But while Feldenkrais practitioners usually suggest doing less as a means of 
detaching from what you normally do and allowing other things to happen, Gaga teachers 
beseech their dancers, multiple times over the course of an hour, to give as much as they 
possibly can. At least, this was my experience of Gaga here in Cambridge, and the use of 
insistence seems to be a mandate for Gaga instructors. As one instructor described the guiding 
principles of a Gaga class to a researcher—“effort has to be there, speed”, and then, “letting go, 
countdowns, sensitivity and layers” (Hogstad 2018: 27-28). Letting go in Gaga is an activity, a 
direct result of the intention to do so if not a result of quaking and shaking, where Feldenkrais 
Method sets up the circumstances in which letting go can occur more quietly, as more efficient 
pathways make themselves known. It might seem like a minor distinction or mere semantics; not 
to a Feldenkrais practitioner. 

While neither Gaga nor Feldenkrais Method rely on mirrors for feedback, and Naharin was 
adamant about having them removed from his company’s studio in Tel Aviv, Gaga instructors 
insist that participants keep their eyes open for the duration of each class. People are 
periodically told to watch the teacher in order to better understand the action or movement 
quality being taught. In other words, participants are expected and reminded to pay attention, at 
all times, whether to themselves, to the teacher or to their fellow dancers (as the movements 

2 Increasingly, it appears that a distinction is being made in the language used to teach Gaga/dancers and 
Gaga/people, as can be observed on the recently revamped Gaga website: <​http://gagapeople.com/en/​> 

 
Singh-Miller • ​Feldenkrais Research Journal, volume 6​ (2018-2019) 5
 

http://gagapeople.com/en/


 

grow increasingly mobile). Maybe these layers of activity, this complexity, becomes the context, 
or constraint, in which a person can do nothing but let go….  

Compelled to keep moving, delving deeper and deeper into the Gaga experience, participants 
report accelerated learning and healing (Hogstad 2015). It may be a skill worth developing, the 
ability to internalize external direction, and build stamina, especially important for performers, 
and especially for those tasked with demanding choreography such as Naharin’s. Continuous 
movement means that Gaga is a workout, which probably adds to the experience for ordinary 
people as well as dancers, especially those accustomed to always doing something. As 
mentioned, Naharin developed a version of his Gaga class for the non-dancers on his staff, at 
their request, and “Gaga/people” has a following the world over, not unlike “Gaga/dancers”.  

As Feldenkrais Method demonstrates, however, individuals who have felt compelled to do this 
or be that could also use a context in which to become more familiar with their own desires, 
motivations and intentions, not only their sensations, imagination and strength, but their 
inclination to move more or less. One’s relationship to instruction, to paying attention, to 
attention itself, one’s habits of mind, are also something to learn, observe and coax rather than 
corral or make demands of.  

Where an Awareness Through Movement lesson regularly “takes gravity away, a Gaga class 
removes the option to rest, at least for a solid, chock full hour. And the more I learn about Gaga, 
the more I reflect that rest might have been the missing element or touchstone in ​Naharin’s 
Virus​. Real rest—the letting go of letting go—unconscious or partially conscious, eyes-closed or 
eyes-rolling-back-in-the-head recuperation, and the movement that can grow out of these 
states—more rest, sleep, inspiration, animation, slow motion—seem like they might constitute a 
foundational reference for a dancer, and for the rhythm of a dance. 

Venezuela 

The elegant gang of dancers making their way to the back of the stage when the lights go up at 
the Boch Center Schubert Theatre in Boston on April 6, 2019, for Ohad Naharin’s ​Venezuela 
(2017) have their backs to the audience. And what backs they are! Skin glimpsed in the 
half-light of a bar; slinky black dresses and T-shirts selected by costume designer Eri 
Nakamura. Add Gregorian chants and stripped down, confident choreography not afraid to pull 
equally from high art and popular culture, and everything appears to have loosened and grown 
up.  

Dancers and audience members alike are free to imagine and remember in the mysterious 
landscape of ​Venezuela​, as much universal underworld as South American country suffering an 
extreme, unthinkable economic downturn. Naharin, in notoriously coy fashion, claims to have 
selected the location with a spin of the globe and tap-down of his finger. Well, the results of the 
exercise clearly resonated for the choreographer. How could they not? 

 
Singh-Miller • ​Feldenkrais Research Journal, volume 6​ (2018-2019) 6
 



 

Not far into the piece, after swaying their way to the back of the stage and breaking off 
one-by-one into tango poses, and then partnering, the dancers throw themselves into skipping. 
At the height of each momentous upswing, they appear to freeze—we know the feeling. It’s not 
unlike the pause, “after the exhalation and before the inhalation”, as Feldenkrais trainer Jeff 
Haller describes the moment in a cherished bootleg recording of ‘Global Breathing’ (a once lost 
Awareness Through Movement lesson) (Personal communication, Haller, August 3, 2015).  3

Skipping, that exceptional pastime, becomes an occasion to witness Gaga and Feldenkrais 
Method in sync. 

Heading in any and all directions, the dancers never lose their composure, and yet they really 
let themselves go. This is “acture”, as Feldenkrais famously renamed posture. These Gaga 
trained dancers can and do go forward or backward at any point, a sign of self-possession in 
Feldenkrais Method and martial arts, whenever another dancer is to be avoided. Tossing and 
catching themselves, they rely on feedback from their own bodies in motion to inform their next 
effort or retreat. This is reversibility, and range. There is a lot of strength on display but also a 
lightness I don’t recall in ​Naharin’s Virus​; you can hear the dancers’ footsteps but you can also 
hear the stilly after the breath. The contagious thrill builds and more and more dancers 
seamlessly, seemingly from out of nowhere, crisscross the stage, skipping up a storm out of thin 
air. It looks something like the height of a Gaga lesson, or, as Amber Adams writes in ​Broadway 
World Review​: 

A profound skipping sequence ensued. As more dancers joined the stage momentum 
and awareness of one another increased like in life's hustle and bustle. The coming and 
going of relationships, the back and forth nature of monotony, a constant buzz. (Adams 
2019) 

Venezuela​ is filled with this kind of repetition and variation, this powerful minimalism and 
potential for metaphor. The main, overarching use of repetition comes midway through the 
dance, when the entire first half replays. Of course, you don’t know what’s happening, at first. 
And this is part of the seduction, as in Feldenkrais Method. The second half is different, and yet 
familiar. The 14 dancers, at least some of them, have swapped roles; the music, designed and 
edited by Maxim Waratt (Naharin’s pseudonym), is louder if no more somber—Rage Against the 
Machine, for example, in place of Gregorian chants; the lighting by Avi Yona Bueno (Bambi) is 
also louder, even a bit harsh—like the lights in a dark room at a dark hour. The choreography is 
pretty much the same. Or is it? Did I just see that 40 minutes ago? Is that another dancer (most 

3 As Jeff Haller wrote about the Awareness Through Movement lesson 'Global Breathing' in an email: 
“Moshe taught a series of lessons in Berkeley. I think there were 48 lessons. This was number 1. The 
tape recorder was broken and it recorded too fast to understand. I used an old Sony handheld recorder 
that had a speed control on it and slowed it down to the point I could understand it. A number of years 
ago I taught the lesson in Mexico. A guy came up to me afterward and asked me where I got the lesson… 
because he was the guy who recorded it and his tape recorder was broken. Wanted to know how I got it. 
Pretty sure you can get the lesson from Feldenkrais Resources. Berkeley with the 48 lessons. See if they 
have it.” (Personal communication August 13, 2015) 

 
Singh-Miller • ​Feldenkrais Research Journal, volume 6​ (2018-2019) 7
 



 

likely it is) striking another ballroom dance pose? Same pose, different pose? At every level, 
Venezuela​ enacts reversals and inversions, playing at the limits of our memory and recognition. 
Don’t I know that song (​Dead Wrong​ by The Notorious B.I.G., initially delivered at a stage 
whisper and then, in the second half, over the loud speakers [with shouting over the top].)? 
What animal is that? That almost mythical gait…. 

In his New York Times review of ​Last Work​ (2017), another recent dance by Naharin, Brian 
Seibert characterizes the popular choreographer’s style: ‘It doesn’t seduce so much as assume 
rapt attention’ (Seibert 2017). In ​Virus​, I think the assumption verged on presumption, but 
Venezuela​ takes its time drawing you in, and then takes its time again, and again. Many 
passages were performed and then performed in reverse, others were danced in slow motion. 
Maybe this is the 360-degree seduction that Naharin was talking about, almost longingly, in the 
Berkshires, when he held up freedom in collaboration. This kind of choreography pulls people 
in; takes its time and changes; comes in waves. About a quarter of the way into the 
performance, and then again three-quarters of the way, across the horizon of the stage, three 
women sit astride three men. The men take on the posture of four-legged beasts, carrying the 
women on their backs towards the back of the stage, their toes tucked under and dragging 
along the ground like a gown. The men’s bowed progression is reflected in the women’s 
seesawing torsos. A side-bending movement we know so well from side-lying Awareness 
Through Movement lessons appears here with powerful associations. It is at once a majestic, 
regal, imperialist gender-bending scene.  

Film is the other art in ​Venezuela​, along with music (which functions as a contemporary 
soundtrack in terms of its emotional, sometimes abstract, atmospheric relationship to the 
primary action of the dance). The widescreen of the stage the animals cross, the liturgical score, 
Old World over New World, and vice versa, the slow motion, the activation of foreground and 
background, dancers viewed in the round that they create in turning, and over the shoulders of 
other dancers. The weakest element remains the incorporation of analog media—in this case 
naked canvas banners and then, in the second half, identifiable flags from around the world. Not 
unlike the chalk and blackboard in the earlier dance, the flags seem fussy. The piece could have 
managed without this material, as when the dancers’ bodies themselves transform into horse 
and rider. Worth mentioning again—this epic scene of three women slowly riding three men to 
the back of the stage, where the men pivot and begin the crawl back, is breathtaking, more 
symbolic of border-crossing, territorial disputes, and the ways in which the world has been 
divided and conquered, than any piece of cloth. 

In ​Naharin’s Virus​, exaggerated solos and in-your-face collective thrusting never add up or 
cohere, but the movement spectrum explored in ​Venezuela​ offers a sublime, moving picture of 
humanity making its mysterious way around the globe.  

Last summer, I was left wondering how to connect Ohad Naharin’s inspiring ideals and 
endearing expression to his choreography. This spring, his most recent dance has illuminated a 

 
Singh-Miller • ​Feldenkrais Research Journal, volume 6​ (2018-2019) 8
 



 

range of movement I cannot wait to inhabit in my own practice of the Feldenkrais Method and 
the live form of Gaga language and pedagogy at the studio down the street. 

 

References 

Adams, A. (2019) ‘BWW Review: WHAT WILL THEY DO NEXT? Batsheva Dance Company's 
'Venezuela' at Royce Hall At UCLA’. ​BroadwayWorld.com​ [online] 19 March. available 
from 
<​www.broadwayworld.com/los-angeles/article/BWW-Review-WHAT-WILL-THEY-DO-NEX
T-Batsheva-Dance-Companys-Venezuela-at-Royce-Hall-At-UCLA-20190318​> 

Heyman, T. (2015) ​Mr. Gaga​. [film] [online] available from <​https://www.mrgagathefilm.com/​> 

Hogstad, I. T. (2015) ​Finding Layers in the Gaga Movement Language. A study of lived 
experience of the Gaga Movement Language in the Dancing Community Gaga/people at 
the Suzanne Dellal Centre, Tel Aviv​. Unpublished Master’s thesis. Norwegian University of 
Science and Technology Faculty of Humanities, Department of Music, Dance Studies: 
NTNU Open, 27-28. available from 
<​https://ntnuopen.ntnu.no/ntnu-xmlui/bitstream/handle/11250/2491198/hogstad_masterop
pgave_digitalversjon.pdf?sequence=1&isAllowed=y​> 

Macaulay, A. (2018) ‘Review: With Batsheva, Politics Inside and Outside the Joyce Theater’. 
The New York Times​ [online] 11 July. available from 
<​www.nytimes.com/2018/07/11/arts/dance/batsheva-oharins-virus.html​> 

Naharin, O. (2017) ​Venezuela​. [dance] Boch Center Schubert Theatre, Boston, 6 April 2019.  

Naharin, O. (2002) ​Naharin’s Virus​. [dance] Jacob’s Pillow Dance Festival, Western 
Massachusetts, August 2018.  

Seibert, B. (2017) ‘Review: Ohad Naharin's 'Last Work' Isn't’. ​The New York Times​ [online] 5 
February. available from 
<​www.nytimes.com/2017/02/05/arts/dance/ohad-naharin-last-work-review.html​> 

 

Author Biography 

Helen Singh-Miller is an artist and Feldenkrais practitioner living and working in Cambridge, MA. 
Drawing on somatic education and contemporary dance, her still and moving-image work 
explores the relationship between visual representation and embodied experience. ​Grand Union 
(2018), her recent film incorporating elements of family life and postmodern dance, was installed 

 
Singh-Miller • ​Feldenkrais Research Journal, volume 6​ (2018-2019) 9
 

http://www.broadwayworld.com/los-angeles/article/BWW-Review-WHAT-WILL-THEY-DO-NEXT-Batsheva-Dance-Companys-Venezuela-at-Royce-Hall-At-UCLA-20190318
http://www.broadwayworld.com/los-angeles/article/BWW-Review-WHAT-WILL-THEY-DO-NEXT-Batsheva-Dance-Companys-Venezuela-at-Royce-Hall-At-UCLA-20190318
https://www.mrgagathefilm.com/
https://ntnuopen.ntnu.no/ntnu-xmlui/bitstream/handle/11250/2491198/hogstad_masteroppgave_digitalversjon.pdf?sequence=1&isAllowed=y
https://ntnuopen.ntnu.no/ntnu-xmlui/bitstream/handle/11250/2491198/hogstad_masteroppgave_digitalversjon.pdf?sequence=1&isAllowed=y
http://www.nytimes.com/2018/07/11/arts/dance/batsheva-oharins-virus.html
http://www.nytimes.com/2017/02/05/arts/dance/ohad-naharin-last-work-review.html


 

at the 33rd Bienal de São Paulo. In 2016-17, she was awarded a Harvard Film Study Center 
fellowship for ​And After These Things​, a portrait of caregiving across community and class. 
Editor of ​The Feldenkrais Journal​, Singh-Miller writes regularly on the aesthetic dimensions of 
everyday activity. She has written for The Drawing Center, The Orion Society, Mozarteum 
Salzburg, Trade School, ESTAR(SER), Comet Books, and ​Feldenkrais Zeit​. She contributes 
material inspired by somatics to exhibitions and performances internationally and teaches TIME 
in Studio Foundation at the Massachusetts College of Art and Design. 

Email: ​hsingh-miller@massart.edu 

 

 

 

 

 

 
Singh-Miller • ​Feldenkrais Research Journal, volume 6​ (2018-2019) 10 
 

mailto:hsingh-miller@massart.edu

