Nearly a month ago, Cornish College of the Arts announced that they would be selling the historic Kerry Hall building that was built to house the school 103 years ago. Starting in Fall 2024, all music and dance classes will be moved to Cornish’s South Lake Union location and Kerry Hall will lose its Cornish Soul.
Before the news broke about Cornish College’s decision to sell Kerry Hall, I was not planning on writing about this topic anytime soon. In the back of my mind, I knew since I started this blog that I would one day sit down and try to commit to paper the experience of growing up within the walls of the Cornish Preparatory Dance Program, but now, with this news in the air, it seems that there could be no better time to try to explain the unique wonder of learning a deep love for dance in a place as special as Kerry Hall.
I’m not a current student, or even an alum of the college, but I am someone who was lucky enough to grow up in the Preparatory Dance Program and whose early impressions of the performing arts were shaped by that building and the community that inhabited it. I was four years old when I became a student there, clad in pale pink with those sweet little, very British-looking pink dance socks and leather slippers. My earliest memories of those studios are filled with delight, and the joy of discovering musicality and rhythm.
As soon as one entered Kerry Hall, music greeted you. You would leave the cold winds outside, and step into a place of beauty, immediately surrounded by art all around. All the way up the stairs to the third floor, music accompanied you, an unseen presence that became visible as soon as you reached the dance floor and everything from tambourines, african drums, violin, and piano accompaniment filled the hallway. There, the older dancers stretched legs up into oversplits on the benches that lined the hall, little ones tried to peer into class through a crack in the door, and others searched bags for that last bobby pin that had slipped away.
And once class had begun, and everyone stood ready at the barre, the sun (or perhaps rain-speckled gray light) would dance its way across the marley floor. Hands found a well-worn barre, and there, all was well. The big studio was always my favorite. Not because it had the most lovely view of the trees, or because of the way the light fell through the skylight, but because it held one of my favorite memories in all my years of dancing there. Nutcracker dress rehearsals in that studio were always an exciting day as a child, but there was one rehearsal that I will never be able to forget. It touched my ten year old heart so deeply, and instilled me with so much magic in the blink of an eye. I was cast as a party girl that year, and sat thrilled-to -the-brim at the front of the studio to watch the rest of the run from the front. We were well into the snow scene, and as the soft choir began to fill the room, there, past the curves of those beautiful old windows, snow began to fall through the bare branches. I believe for a moment, we forgot to breathe, perhaps especially us younger, big-eyed ones who could barely believe the magic that we were seeing. Tchaikovsky’s precious score, the flowing white tulle, and past the windows: earthward drifting snow. Perhaps that could have happened anywhere, but at Cornish on that dark December day, it was a miracle to witness. Perched up on the third floor, surrounded by walls that held nearly 100 years of history, we were spinning something of importance, it felt. Our big bird nest filled with sweat, joy, music, and community.
Needless to say, I'm devastated by the thought that dance may slip from those studios forever. It was truly such a special place to dance, and to watch art happen all around. Weekdays after school, when all the preparatory dance kids hurried to the third floor, we'd catch glimpses of the college students wrapping up their day, or staying late to practice. Music drifted from every corner of the building, and filled every last nook. For a child, I don’t think there could be a more inspiring, welcoming space than a building so dedicated to the arts. It was unapologetically a space for the performing arts, so much so that when Cornish first moved into Kerry Hall and neighbors complained about the music wafting from the building, a judge suggested that they "move to the country.”
Nellie Cornish founded her school of music in 1914 on Capitol Hill, and from the beginning offered classes for all ages. By 1917, the school had expanded to include dance and language, and soon outgrew the original Booth Building. In 1921, Cornish moved into the newly built building on the corner of Harvard Ave E and E Roy, now known as Kerry Hall, which houses a concert hall, three spacious, light-bathed dance studios, multiple classrooms, and offices. There, many great artists studied, taught, performed, and held artist-in-residence, including Martha Graham, Merce Cunningham, John Cage, David Gordon, Alonzo King, Robert Joffrey, Mark Morris, and Twyla Tharp. The school flourished, and by the 80s, had exceeded the capacity of Kerry Hall. In 1984, Cornish purchased the nearby St. Nicolas building, and moved most of their programs there, leaving Kerry Hall to be filled by the Dance and Music Departments. Since then, it has also been the home of the Preparatory Dance Program, Summer dance intensives, and community classes.
As a young child, I don’t think I fully recognized the opportunity of being invited into a space of such artistic exploration and development, but I certainly felt that there was something uniquely beautiful about the community within that great white building. With the sale of Kerry Hall, Cornish will lose a vital piece of its history, and with it, the Seattle community will lose the place where so many of its artists learned their craft. All we can hope is that this beautiful building ends up in the right hands that will cherish all of the stories woven within each room. After more than one hundred years, I’m not sure that this corner of the city could bear the silence of Kerry Hall sitting uninspired.
May dance and music fill that space for many more decades to come, and may people always find joy and beauty there. We, as the city of Seattle, owe it to Nellie Cornish and her vision for arts education.
Row 1: Nellie Cornish (1876-1956); Cornish College of the Arts Main Entrance
Row 2: Kerry Hall South Entrance; A dancer on the steps of Kerry Hall, early 1920s; School Performance on the Poncho Concert Hall stage in Kerry Hall, 2006;
Row 3: Ballet class at Cornish School of the Allied Arts, 1950s or 60s; West View of Kerry Hall
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