Paul Taylor has a lot to feel good about right now. His company is celebrating its 50th anniversary season. His City Center engagement, expanded to three weeks from the usual two, has been drawing strong crowds. The New York premieres of his two new works, “Klezmerbluegrass” and “Dante Variations,” are behind him and were well received.

And these days his name is increasingly linked with certain ticket-sale inducing superlatives: He’s the “greatest choreographer in the world,” according to Vanity Fair, and “the reigning master of modern dance,” says Time. But even with the shower of accolades and the pressure of a major season, Mr. Taylor is maintaining a pretty laid-back approach to it all. His mood, though known to be sometimes volatile, is sanguine these days.

“It’s like Muhammad Ali. He always said, ‘I’m the greatest.’ Nah,” said Mr. Taylor, 74, with a bemused growl. “I’ve always thought of dance as a profession. It’s like being a worker. I think of myself as a worker, rather than some mad genius.”

A “worker” he may be, but one for whom the work is never really done. Mr. Taylor danced with the Martha Graham company before launching his own troupe in 1954, and he’s been creating dances now for 50 years. Though several of his principal dancers have been with him since the early 1990s, he still keeps a nightly lookout for what needs fixing.

“Nothing’s perfect, you know,” he said. “I don’t change the choreography. I clean up the spaces.”

During City Center performances, Mr. Taylor sits in the last row of the seating on the orchestra level (and dashes out quickly before anyone can catch him to give praise or blame). He takes no notes during the performances. He’ll sometimes sit with rehearsal director Bettie De Jong, but keeps the comments to a minimum.

“People in front don’t want to hear talking,” he said.

When there are things to correct in a dance, he usually finds the reception welcome. “Dancers want a little advice. They’re so anxious to please,” he said.

The company usually works in its SoHo space, but during its New York season, the group rehearses at City Center’s studios. Mr. Taylor will stay at the theater during the rehearsals in the early afternoon and through the performance.

Mr. Taylor said he is able to relax while watching performances more than he used to. “It used to make me very nervous. But I trust the dancers. We try to get the kinks out in rehearsal,” he said.

Though he has spent a lot of time uptown this year, he has no recommendations on where to eat near the theater. He doesn’t eat lunch, he says: “Just coffee.” On days that include a matinee and evening performance, he’ll head downtown for dinner “at just a regular diner,” where he likes the meatloaf.

With a tag like “world’s greatest choreographer,” shouldn’t he be eating at Nobu every night? Getting a round of applause as he breezes into Balthazar after the show? It is in keeping with Mr. Taylor’s personality that he does the opposite. Known for modern dance works that are bold and beautiful, but often quite funny, Mr. Taylor frequently relies on the unexpected, which is part of what adds humor to his work.

“You need the viewer to expect something. And then you don’t do it, you do something else,” he explained. “The surprise is funny.”

In Mr. Taylor’s “3 Epitaphs,” for instance, dancers walk on stage (with a slumped droopy move) one after another and dance in curious ways. But when one particular dancer emerges from the wings, he pauses and instead of dancing, he sighs, turns, and runs off stage, back to the wings. Which gets laughs because his limp, resigned turn is the unexpected.

Mr. Taylor also depends on elements that are funny already. His 1994 work “Funny Papers” is an ode to the joy of reading comic strips and set to novelty songs like “Does Your Chewing Gum Lose Its Flavor (On the Bedpost Overnight)” and “I Am Woman.”

For the latter song, sung in a wobbly off-key voice, Mr. Taylor first sends out a peppy female dancer, saluting the crowd and jumping around full of the joy of being a woman. But she’s followed by a male dancer (recently Orion Duckstein), who does the same moves, only with goofy exaggerations. The sight of a man dancing so rambunctiously to the lyrics “I am woman, hear me roar” elicits huge laughs.

When choosing a dancer like Mr. Duckstein for a comedic part, Mr. Taylor finds that he rarely, if ever, makes casting mistakes because he knows his dancers so well. “We’ve worked together for quite a few years. That’s a big advantage for a choreographer,” he said. “We don’t socialize a lot, but through watching them work, we get to know each other.”

And picking the right dancer is of no small importance when it comes to getting the laughs. “The big danger in comedy is that if [the dancer] doesn’t take the role seriously, they look like they’re trying to be funny,” he said. “They have to understand the joke.”

What outside sources inform Mr. Taylor’s sense of humor? “I used to read ‘Peanuts.’ Now I look at ‘The Simpsons,'” he said, adding that he only discovered the animated series last year and is enjoying the near constant re-runs on television.

Often, he’s just amused by what’s in front of him. “Sometimes accidents happen in rehearsal, and I think it might be funny, so I just leave it in,” he said. “There are so many different kinds of comedy.”

With one more week left on stage, there are still several chances to see his takes on comedy and dance. And there are also a few things that the choreographer himself is eagerly anticipating.

“I’m looking forward to ‘Big Bertha.’ Patrick Corbin is doing it, and in rehearsal, he’s been quite frightening,” said Mr. Taylor, referring to his challenging 1970 work.

Mr. Corbin, a veteran Paul Taylor dancer who is now assisting the choreographer, joined the company in 1989. He’s striking out on his own after this season, but will keep close ties to the company. “He’s going to be teaching dances of mine occasionally,” said Mr. Taylor. “I hope he will continue to teach at the [Taylor] School.”

Not on Mr. Taylor’s list will be a date with more than 50 of his former dancers, who are coming to town this weekend for a public discussion this Sunday, March 20. (Tickets to the onstage talk, from 11 a.m to 1 p.m., are $10 and are available at the City Center box office.) Though he’s eager to see some old familiar faces, he said he’s planning to make himself scarce for the event.

“I don’t want to inhibit them if they’re talking about me,” he said.

Funny, I would have expected just about anyone to want to be on hand, in case his former dancers want to coo and wave palm fronds at the “greatest choreographer in the world.” But he seems much more comfortable with a bit of distance – and a different sort of title: “Sometimes I think I’m the luckiest person in the world,” he said.