I’ve always loved structure. I could find structure with piano, violin and, later, with dance. That discipline—and the discipline of faith—kept me on a straight path.

After joining the Ailey company in 1965, I was lucky enough to establish a spiritual connection with the greatest artist I’ve ever met, [company founder] Alvin Ailey. He would show me a step; I would move. There was very little conversation. He was like a spiritual walker.

When I became artistic director after Mr. Ailey passed, I tried to figure out how to fulfill his vision. And it was sitting right in front of me: build our own studio, our own building. We were bursting at the seams. I just wish he were here to see it. There is light inside. You can feel it.

I took care of mine as best I could. When you’re older, you can keep it going with smaller movements: Just sitting here, I’m doing contractions and releases, trying to strengthen my core. You won’t be moving as robustly as you used to, but you can still do something.

My kids are the Ailey dancers, and they grew up right before my eyes. Now they have children, so I have a bunch of grandchildren! They send me pictures of their families, and it’s a whole other level of young people—kids, babies being born. Brings a smile to my face.

It’s a uniform I’ve been wearing forever: a black turtleneck that this wonderful designer from Brooklyn makes for me. Thank God I have three of them. [Laughs.] —As told to Elizabeth Zimmer