lorenzoverlaine

It's a novel, which I imagine would be considered too large to post here. I think it's rather a wonderful story, entitled "Ghost Town," that conerns ballet to a great extent, not to mention subjects one would not normally associate with dance. The desire to tell this story is how, at a very advanced age, I became interested in classsical ballet. I've given up trying to persuade a publisher or agent to read it and thought pehaps some individuals would enjoy it. Jennifer Penney did; she called it "a beautiful tribute to the art of which you have become enamored." I think that's the best I can do, and if could tell forum readers how to contact me privately, I would lend a few bound copies I had made and, perhaps, consider emailing it, though, as noted, it's a lot of stuff. By today's (lack of) standards it's non-smutty, but it was intended for adults, and a woman character uses a little bit of rough language. At any rate, that explains my fishing expedition. Best wishes, Lorenzo Verlaine

I tried to send messages to two of the forum leaders but discovered I am not allowed to use that facility. I wanted to ask if it is permissible here for me to offer members, free of charge, the opportunity of reading something on ballet that I wrote. L.V.

Thanks, friends. As I have Grant's little book I'll try first to glean some info there. Apparently, I should already know the answer to my question!

In one of his critiques of the early 1920's Akim Volynsky stated his preference for the Italian ways of doing attitudes and pirouettes over the respective French techniques. What is or was the difference? L.V.

I was hoping not to puzzle everyone. Does anyone know of a biography of her? Good luck for Friday the 13th. L.V.

I've read a number of thumbnail bioraphies of the adventurous Ms. Maywood, but none has answered the question of what, after she had retired to Italy, she was doing in Lvov? Perhaps one of you can tell me. L.V.

For the "recent performances" section here I submitted something on her La Sylphide the other day, but it's not there. L.V.

On Monday night a regrettable injury to Xiomara Reyes afforded me a first look at Natalia Osipova in the title role of ABT’s La Sylphide. I think it would be difficult to design a more sylphid-type dancer: she is young, pretty, sweet-looking, and absolutely weightless. Better yet, she has the requisite “elevation;” the grande jete’s were stunning and the tour jete’s, fairy-like. I hope she becomes a permanent member of that company. This was only the third version I have seen, with the other two recorded. One of these is the film of Pierre Lacotte’s staging with Ghislaine Thesmar (still my favorite sylphid) and the other, a Royal Danish with Lis Jeppeson. I prefer the French ballet, which has, I believe, more fine dancing. At the ABT I was disappointed to see Herman Cornejo, who is ordinarily like a bird or a spring, having to spend so much of Act I standing around gesturing. The ABT production is a Bournonville descendant. Playing Gurn was a soloist who is, according to past programs, in his first year with the company. He is Daniil Simkin and is quite remarkable. In the Friday night Giselle, Nina A.’s last with that company, he was splendid in a p.d.d. Perhaps next time I can make comments about that performance. I always find the ABT corps VERY excellent, and I believe the organization must be a healthy one, unusual in these times among organizations of all kinds. From last year to this I counted four corps members gone, with one of those promoted to soloist, and eight new names in the roster! Speaking of the corps, I found it entirely heart-warming to see Julio B.-Young back. Apparently he has healed, at least physically, after the accident that took his wife, Jennifer Alexander, and injured him. I must qualify all my ballet opinions with my relative inexperience, but they are honest.

I mentioned that Volynsky wrote reviews a little more incisive than what I see today and thought you might be interested in the concluding passage from “Pavlova’s Farewell Performance: La Bayadere,” 25 Feb., 1913. She was the ballet dancer against whom he measured all others. His praise for her dancing was ardent, his analysis of her arch, her “elevation,” the shape of her legs, the nature of her shoulders, almost encyclopedic. “This is Pavlova’s last exit at the Maryinsky because of her year-long absence from Petersburg, which seems a difficult, almost tragic, break with ballet. Indeed we recently had the occasion to be convinced with our own eyes of the kind of art this gifted talent cultivates on the stages of Europe among the degrading working conditions their nightspots provide. The rays of light cast into the soul of this artist by the Creator of the universe, by the Creator of all that is marvelous, will undoubtedly be replaced there with the pathos of market transactions from which one can mint a fortune. A column of dust circles the eaglet, which has fallen onto the road of vanity and deceit. And although it is particularly unpleasant, it nonetheless needs to be said that Pavlova’s genius on this new path is fraught with danger. This is yet another dash for the mirage of universal fame along the path of golden, diabolical temptation, and her talent will smash to smithereens. It will split into little pieces, it will disperse into fragments, kindled from the stage for the crowd, but no longer providing elements of integral beauty. Falls from such heights are shattering.”

No, sorry; the magnitude of the offering frightened me away. I suppose info@abt.org will tell one.

Here is the other Le Clercq poem from Measure, October, 1925, p.6. HENRY In his compositions he sought The bizarre. How very banal His present decomposition! ROBERT He insulted God Nor ever forgave God For forgiving him. God! CLAUDIA She was no poetess, But Sappho alone Could aptly mourn Claudia’s passing. EUGENE Dead? Nonsense! He sailed to Paradise To study mystic technic From the Holy Ghost. GORDON Tread softly: here is the bigamist! Ghosts of three fat women Haunt his dreams. PHILIP Eminently methodic, Dependable, regular – Suddenly your heart stopped, But your watch went tic-tic … VIOLET She loved to dance, She hated to dance With me. Let her dance Now. Jacques Le Clercq (“Paul Tanaquil”) In the Contributors section is this. “Paul Tanaquil, as most of us know well, is one of the more interesting of the young poets, who can write either with lyrical music or with satiric brevity. What most of us did not know, however, is that “Paul Tanaquil” was a pen name for Jacques Le Clercq.”

Speaking of rehearsals and related, I've always wanted to watch a lesson taken by the dancers of a well-known company so asked ABT what sort of contribution was required for this privilege. I was told that for a $2500 membership I could see a rehearsal. I reiterated that what I wanted was to watch a lesson, and I learned that the pre-requisite for that was a gift in the $25K class! This is another of many pleasures I shall have to forego. L.V.

Thanks so much for the references, especially re: Degas, which I certainly shall pursue. L.V.

Dear friends, My wonderful librarian found a Paul Tanaquil poem, but it was different from the one I remembered, so she’s retrieving that one, too, and I’ll post it when it comes. I’d hoped to include the pdf images of the mag cover, title page, etc., but I don’t see how to do that here, so I’m just typing the text. This was on p. 10 of The Measure, A Journal of Poetry, number 47, January, 1925. “Over a Dead Poet There was in him no factual trace of sin, Here was a child, a subtly wayward one at that, Lacking all sense of appropriate discipline, Loving color and contour, despising the dull, the flat. If he were forced at times to be cruelly clever, He wrapped his sword-point in lint lest blood fall on the ground, He was both too strong and too weak completely to sever Evil from good, he was too versatile to be profound. He never wore dirty collars by choice nor adopted loud socks, He loathed the arid sham, the melancholy middle-class tie, Here was no daring aphorism, no disturbing paradox, R.I.P. Life did rather well in letting him die. Paul Tanaquil” In the Contributors section, there is this; “ ‘Paul Tanaquil’ has recently returned from Europe to teach in the department of Romance Languages at Columbia University.” The fact that the journal put the name in quotes shows that it recognized this as a nom de plume. Hope this is interesting, Tanny and others. Happy weekend, L.V.

For many years before I came to love ballet I loved Degas' paintings of it and was fortunate to see them in several museums around the world, reproduced in books, etc. I'm not aware of another artist that could mix such lavish colors. Recently and quite suddenly it occurred to me that in every picture I could recall, many of them clearly depicting practice or lessons, the women were attired in what looked to me to be performance-grade clothing. Is it just that in those times the standards of decorum were quite different? I know that Nijinsky got into hot water over refusing to wear the trunks that were conventional for men at his time and place. I appreciate your attention.

I emailed my librarian friend, but I believe it's Spring vacation at that university. She's VERY capable, though, and it's just a matter of time until I post them here. Best wishes, L.V.

I know her dad was named "Jacques," but can we be certain it's the same guy? The date makes that feasible, but I don't know anything conclusive; do you? UNFORTUNATELY, I had the volumes via interlibrary loan and sent them back the other day! However, the I.L.L. librarian that found them for me is a good email chum, and I'm sure she can rustle up that issue again. If they come electronically, would it be outside the scope of ballettalk to post his poems here? If that's not acceptable, I could send them to whatever email or postal address you like. We're not talking about a lot of bytes. I'll make the loan request as soon as I quit here. L.V.

As with everything else about ballet, most of you likely have known this years before I, but not long ago I finished reading aloud – to my wife, in fact – Dancing in Petersburg, the 1960 translation of Mathilde Kschessinka’s, later Princess Marie Romanovsky-Krassinsky’s, memoirs. I wish she’d included more details of ballet, but it’s a fascinating account, not only of her career, but of important aspects of her private life, social intercourse, treatment by the Bolsheviks, flight, and resurrection in Paris. From what one reads in different sources, it seems that some of her accounts regarding other individuals are probably less than totally objective, but I ended with the impression that if there were a more influential woman in Russia during her time, it must have been the Czarina. I also finished with the thought that there couldn’t have been a finer ballerina. If you haven’t read this, I believe you can learn a great deal from it and be highly entertained.

Ukranian Chaim Leib Flekser (1861-1926) changed his name to Akim Volynsky and became an influential author and critic in Russia. Ballet was the last art to attract his attention, around 1907, and he wrote about it through 1925. Dr. Stanley Rabinowitz, who did not change his name to Robbins, collected, translated, edited, and published these as Ballet’s Magic Kingdom, Yale University Press, 2008. Quite recently a thoughtful daughter made me a present of this book, and I have begun reading it. Generally, I can’t tolerate art criticism, for the reason that it’s too often a stream of high-flown language, teasing the boundaries of philosophy, psychology, emotion, and most everything except the subject at hand. It is frequently composed by people with no background in the particular art, and they couch praise for unmitigated tripe in words individually interesting, even poetic, which, taken in the aggregate, signify nothing. For example, I have read ballet reviews that touch upon every aspect of the performance except the ability and execution exhibited by the dancers! A memorable piece was one by Clive Barnes from which Margot Fonteyn might have been supposed, for the absence of descriptions of what she did, to have sat in a wheel chair. What Clive thought to commemorate were her “feminine wiles.” To the extent that Rabinowitz’ translations are accurate, I can’t say that Volynsky did not drift at times into baffling, entropic passages that leave one wondering just what he said, but for much the greater part I’ve found his commentary intelligent, informed, and refreshingly blunt. This last is conspicuous in our times of “Don’t say anything critical; someone might be offended.” mentality, which is destroying our standards and consequently our nation. Don’t let me forget to add “scholarly” to the list of adjectives. This was a man that, wishing to understand the roots of ballet in ancient Greek theatre, traveled to Greece to study and appreciate them. If that sounds appealing, and you’d like to read intellectual evaluations of the work of the likes of Kschessinska, Karsavina, Pavlova, and Fokine by one of their contemporaries you will like this book. Of particular note, though, is the lofty, sublime level, where I feel it belongs, to which he elevates ballet. The title says much about Volynsky's sentiments.

Here's a non-balletic, possible connection to Tanaquil L. that I found lately while researching an artist/poet of interest to me. In the October, 1925 issue of the poetry magazine, Measure, are several by a Jacques LeClercq, who, in a footnote, is said also to have written under the name, Paul Tanaquil. The web says her father, Jacques, was "an intellectual," and I wonder if the poet was her dad. What do you think? L.V.

Thanks, everyone, for the references and suggestions, which I plan soon to pursue. I'm relieved to learn that this sample was not representative, for I thought she looked inferior to all the other women on the dvd. L.V.

Unfortunately for me, my love affair with ballet, is relatively recent, but, as I grew up and matured, the ballerina of whom I heard most was Maria Tallchief. Only about a year ago I discovered the VAI DVD of Bruhn and Nureyev in Bell Telephone hour performances from 1961-1967. Their partners were Sonia Arova, Carla Fracchi, Svetlana Beriosova, Lupe Serrano, and Maria T. I was quite eager to see, at last, the vaunted American, who was 36 in 1961, and terribly disappointed in her appearances with Bruhn in Don Quixote and with Nureyev in Flower Festival. She exhibited the worst balance I’ve ever seen in a professional dancer; at one moment, when being supported by hand in a pointe balance, she reached her other hand a couple of times to grab her partner and thus maintain equilibrium. In her turns, always jerky with arms folded closely about her, she never looked entirely vertical and gave the overall impression of being heavy and anything but gracile. As to presentation she wore always a rather silly and unnatural grin, I thought. On this DVD she was in rather elite company; I think Fracchi was one of the finest ballerinas of all time, and Jennifer Penney, 25 years with the RB, ranked Beriosova as her favorite during her time there, which overlapped Fonteyn’s, of course. Serrano and Arova looked commendable, too, and I regretted that Tallchief was inferior to them all. I realize that there are possible, explanatory factors unappreciated by the naïve observer years later. Among these are unfamiliarity with the partners, performing in a TV studio as opposed to on stage, and, with her background, not great experience with Romantic roles. More knowledgeable people may suggest others. Additionally, she just may have had a couple of bad outings, though, it seems to me, being capable at anything subsumes consistency. On the basis of this single recording, I must wonder to what extent Maria Tallchief’s repute owed to her having been George B.’s wife, an American Indian, or just an American. Perhaps our country seized upon her, as it had on her one-time husband, to be our ballet standard-bearer when it thought it needed one. Perhaps, too, those American standards then were lower; e.g., Maya Plisetskaya was born in the same year as Maria T., and the difference recalls a Cole Porter song, Night and Day. Am I just a bad arbiter of ballet talent?

Thanks ever so much; as often happens, I overlooked the obvious. Shall try to be a more responsible member. L.V.

Still don't see how to enter a new post here, but I have a question that is related to this inquiry, so I'm replying with it. Benoist wrote the music for La Gypsy, Paquerette, and Le Diable Amoreux; G. Costa, for Alma; B. Shell, for Petipas' Cinderella; and C.M. Widor, for La Korrigane. These were all popular ballets, and I suspect the music was terrific. Has anyone heard any of it or know much about the composers? I have a suspicion I would like Shell's effort better than Prokofiev's. Lorenzo Verlaine

Thanks, Giannina, Just back from 10 days away, and hereafter I shall try to get things in the appropriate places. L.