Before she even opened her mouth to speak, Judith Jamison received a standing ovation from the audience at Cubberley Auditorium on Monday night, when the world-renowned artistic director of the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater was interviewed by Harry Elam, vice provost for undergraduate education, and shared her life story and love of dance.

Renowned both as a dancer and choreographer, Jamison, 67, is soon to retire from her position with the dance company. Her numerous awards include Kennedy Center Honors and the National Medal of Arts, and she was listed in Time Magazine’s 100 Most Influential People in 2009.

Despite her numerous accolades, Jamison was remarkably personable, infusing her anecdotes with self-deprecating humor. Growing up in a musical family where her father sang opera and played classical piano, she began dance classes when she was six.

“I knew nothing,” she laughed, “as opposed to children nowadays who know everything at six.”

By her first performance, Jamison said she was “hooked” and, from then on, continued to dance classical ballet, jazz and tap through university. Originally, she intended to major in psychology, but eventually left Fisk University to join the Philadelphia Dance Academy.

In the early years of her career, not only did Jamison have to overcome prejudices against black dancers, but she also stood out of the crowd, literally, because of her unusual height. At 5’10”, she is taller than most dancers.

“I was wondering why everyone else was so short.” she said. “The mantra was always longer, longer! Go higher! Lift! And I was there already!”

However, she admitted that being taller than the norm meant she had to work extra hard.

“When you’re at extremes, you just have to be extremely fantastic,” she said.

Jamison also credited her roots in the church as a great influence on her dance and choreography.

“I was seeing color and emotion and great faith,” she said of her childhood church in Philadelphia.

For Jamison, dancing is an inherently spiritual experience.

“With dance I don’t have to say anything to you,” she explained. “Our bodies are our truth. There’s nothing else there. That is as close as I can get to God on terra firma as I’m going to get.”

When Jamison joined Alvin Ailey in 1965, the company had only 10 dancers and little funding. Jamison described the company members’ packed schedule, performances in trying conditions on uncovered, non-spring floors and the resulting bloody knees and feet. Despite the difficulties of the early years, Jamison spoke with pride of the company’s conviction.

“We did it for the love of dance, for the love of Alvin and for the love of being excellent at what we do,” she said.

This passion for dance is what Jamison looks for today when she watches dancers audition to join the company.

“First thing is, do you know your stuff?,” she asked. “Do you know your alphabet, do you know your scales? But then there’s the heart. Do I feel that you can’t live another day without dance?”

Jamison encouraged young dancers to pursue their dreams with persistence. When asked by a student studying dance for advice, she made no attempt to trivialize the challenges of the profession.

“It’s a matter of putting that nose down to the grindstone — you just have to keep your eyes where you want to go,” she said. “Just keep your eyes on the prize.”