Paul Parish

Great question, and what a lot of great answers! My family was very tense, and we all read a great deal as a way of avoiding each other and getting into a world that felt more congenial. Mama, Daddy, my two brothers and I all read a couple of books a week, maybe three or four -- mostly romances -- from the time i was 10 till I graduated from high school. We'd come back from hte library with a stack of books 3 or 4 feet high. Daddy read history. Dick read "Desiree" at least 20 times, and I read it 3 0r 4. I read lots of sea-faring stories; Dick read baseball stories. Daddy read heavy books. He read the Imitation of Christ on an on-going basis, wore the back off it, and the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius. But what he really liked was Immanuel Velikovsky -- Worlds in Collision, Ages in Chaos. I read them too, and had never seen so many footnotes. Turned out that Velikovsky was laboring in the cause of the truth, and his theories about cataclysmic changes were validated when Alvarez proved that an asteroid struck the earth, death of the dinosaurs, and all that. My favorite book as a child was "Myths Every Child Should Know," a Doubleday Junior de luxe Club book (with full-page drawings) that was essentially Hawthorne's Just-so stories -- Medusa and the snaky Locks, Bellerophon who rode the flying horse; there were plenty others, but I was crazy about Medusa, and colored her locks green and purple. And Pegasus I colored black. The sky was "cerulean" out of the big Crayola box. LOVE that color. I'm not sure how old I was when Miss Gretchen suggested "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe," but I DO remember feeling like the top of my head was coming off, like I was about to understand something way beyond the scope of things I'd thought about before, and that was the first time, though not the last, that I felt that. My first real taste for the GOOD stuff was not a matter of books -- it was hearing Beethoven on a phonograph record, Artur Rubenstein's OLD recording -- on 2 12-inch 78s -- of the Pathetique sonata. Reading, I was still reading "Captain Marooner" and stuff, by the bushel, mind you. Well, I did read "Wuthering Heights" -- one page a day was all I could take, it was so frightening. Of course I read stuff for school. Davy Crockett, Daniel Boone, Jim Bowie, there was a whole series of them, and the Bowies came from my home town, so I was proud of them. (Rezin Bowie is buried in the Catholic cemetery there, and they used their money to have a WONDERFUL reproduction of a Rubens crucifixion put over the altar in our pretty old church; it was painted by a German who went up and down the river by steamboat, decorating rich folks' places. That painting was a huge influence on my life, for it was beautiful and moving and full of virtue -- not a scary, gnarly, ugly crucifixion, but a sacrifice that was full of love and beauty, and big as a movie-screen almost. Jesus was giving up the ghost, and it was awesome: simultaneously peaceful and terrifying, lonely and totally supported, muscular and sensitive and full of majesty. Beethoven was like that, too. I got a piano and learned to read Beethoven. The great thing about the piano is it lets you read music for yourself. George Bernard Shaw said that, and it's true. I also read a lot of Chopin, mazurkas and preludes; there's a fair amount that's real music and not too difficult -- not to perform, necessarily but just so you could read it for yourself. Bach also. There's nothing like reading it for yourself. Even Schnabel doesn't reveal so much as the page itself does. The great thing about reading in school was poetry. My old-fashioned teachers, especially miss Person, who had ALL the kids from 9th grade on (it was a small school) believed in memory-work, and from 7th grade on, probably, we had to memorize a poem a week and recite it on Friday. "Stars," by Sarah Teasdale. And "Trees," of course. But by 9th grade, also some great poems, Wordsworth, especially, Byron, Shelley, Coleridge, Blake. I memorized "Ozymandias" for my own satisfaction, just because I thought it was so beautiful, and I hated tyranny and so did Shelley and that poem makes you stop being afraid, and "Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments,' and "The Tyger." We had to ALL memorize the end of "Kublai Khan,' for which I'll be eternally grateful ("A damsel with a dulcimer in a vision once I saw; it was an Abyssinian maid, and on her dulcimer she played, singing of Mount Abora. Could I revive within me, her symphony and song, to such a deep delight 'twould win me, that with music loud and long I'd build that dome of air, that sunny dome, those caves of ice! And all around should see me there, and all should cry,'Beware, beware! Weave a circle round him thrice nad close your eyes with holy dread, for he on honey-dew hath fed, and drunk he milk of Paradies.'" o my God, what a great poem!) And lots of the Ancient Mariner, and The Solitary Reaper and the Daffodils, and the Lucy poems and a chunk of the Intimations Ode ("The rainbow comes and goes and lovely is the rose. The moon doth with delight look round her when the heavens are bare, waters on a starry night are beautiful and fair, and yet I know, where e'er I go, that there as passed away a glory from the earth.") Miss Person herself took courage from poems like these, and when push came to shove -- i.e., when the civil rights movement arrived -- she was on the right side and stood by the humane feelings and virtues embodied in these poems, stood up to threats of all kinds, and counter-attacked ("XYZ, I am ASHAMED of you") and prevented the formation of a segregation academy as long as she lived. Her other bastion was Shakespeare -- "Friends, Romans, countrymen," and "Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow" belonged there too – they were all about the emptiness of a life lived badly, and embodied the feelings you'd have, and those you cared about would have FOR you, if you muffed your chance in life or saw your duty and did not do it. Poets really ARE “the unacknowledged legislators of the race.”

On the basis of the photo of Leon Danielian recently posted by RG ( partnering Mary Ellen Moylan, if I remember right), oh my God, what a hot guy. and Youskevitch in the next photograph, what a thoughtful, sensitive, handsome man. Like a horse or a dog, almost, so beautiful, so present, so intelligent, so alive.

lots of insight n there, 4mrdancr - -THANK YOU!

manuel legris. le dernier cri je ne sais plus manuel legris Sorry estelle, I had a little "poetic" fit there.... without having enough French to poetize. He's the bomb.

Doug, That's an offer I can't refuse. "I've found the notations offer a greater variety of steps than those we see today. For example, Nikia's second coda entree (the solo one) has about 3 times the variety of steps in the notation compared with what is danced today. I'd have to pull out my notes to list what the steps are, but can try if you are interested." Sorry I realize several months have gone by, and somebody else has revived this thread. And actually, I'm shifting the subject slightly, from Bayadere to Sleeping Beauty, which is back with us in San Francisco, and I have a QUESTIONS about steps -- Well, about phrasing and style -- the performance I saw seemed to be distorted in favor of steps on releve. It's a version of the commonly-seen distortion in favor of high extensions, but here it looks like an an emphasis on the "money-shot" in the phrase. These particular distortions were not there in 1990, when Tomasson's principal assistant was Irina Jakobson, but it was there during the last revival and in this version, in which Lola de Avila has been principal assistant. For example the third fairy's variation ("Miettes qui tombent") has has been slowed almost to a halt -- the developpe that comes through front to back, with toe-hops, here actually stopped in passe before the dancer sprang down to attitude. In 1990, when Shannon Lilly danced it exquisitely, very softly, it was a flowing andante, the whole phrase flowed seamlessly, and the emphasis was distributed through the whole phrase, with an extra fillip on the final attitude pose in fondu. I understand that in the old Sergeyev's notation there was no final temps de fleche at all, and the 1990 version comes from a Soviet version that itself seems "flitty" to Royal Ballet purists. But at least it was a dance. SFB's current version, no matter how well executed, looks over-decorated and awkward and has no rhythm, rather like the Soviet version of Florine's toe hops (the one where she where she changes feet). Again and again, SFB's current version arrests the action momentarily at big pictures in prologue and Act I -- The Rose Adagio got that treatment on opening night, alas. But it was endemic: For example also the wonderful combination that begins the scena where she pricks her finger. In this passage, the ballerina starts backwards from down left on the diagonal FACING US the whole time, and does jete passe, cabriole, coupe renverse 3 times till she reaches the back corner (well, there's a quick pas de bourree turn, but basically she's flying backwards but facing us all the while). It's one of the airiest passages in the entire ballet -- I'm SUPPOSING it's echt Petipa, for in Sizova's performance it shows genius in placing arrested moments on pointe within lacy passages that are mostly completely off the ground. Do you know if it IS Petipa? It's certainly standard, since Soviet Sergueyev . The renversee is the climactic step, of course, but it shouldn't hog the attention -- the leg should sweep around and keep flowing. Tan crushed all the other steps into nothing and gave all her time to the renversee, which became the money shot: a deeply bent back pose, a big balancing act as the leg curled round and her back twisted to accommodate it, which was amazing and fancy but held too long. A renversee should pour forward into fondu like a cornucopia spilling -- it shouldn't STAY UP. Maybe in Tomasson's Romeo and Juliet, but not in Sleeping Beauty. Phrasing and style are of course the hardest things to read from notation. But is there any indication that that renversee should stay up? or that the jumps should be sacrificed to the releve?

artist, I'd say your metaphors are very GOOD. Generally, I think the distinction between classical and romantic dancers is that classical dancing is more measured, emphasis is on accuracy of articulation of joint against joint, it's simpler (geometrically and emotionally); romantic is looser, more impetuous, the breath is larger and more dominant, positions are more foreshortened, seen from odd angles, the line is less rounded and the allongees are less lengthened -- htere's also usually more jumping, more air.

Thanks for the report, Globetrotter. I didn't see it, the flu's knocked me out for hte whole week -- but I HAVE seen Rechel Viselli over the years, and i'm waiting for her to develop confidence that she belongs onstage. Her light really flickers and dims. She can do things, she's lovely, but she seems to be asking us to hold her hand rather than offering to take US somewhere. She was exquisite as the princess in Firebird, but that seems to be who she IS -- a shy sweet lovely girl. Davit has a deep soft strength, generosity, sincerity, and mighty fine classical style. Haven't seen his Desire, but in Swan Lake, he took our breath away -- double tours through passe that landed in perfect crose attitudes, soft and deep and scrumptious, not showy, just princely. His mime was rudimentary, but maybe that's all they asked for.

THanks for the report,drb. Wish I'd seen it.

BalletNut, thanks for your report. you always make me see things from a different angle. And of course, we DID see it from different angles -- where were you sitting. I didn't post because I was reviewing it for the weekly Bay Area Reporter, which didn't come out till yesterday. Here's the link: http://www.ebar.com/arts/art_article.php?s...ance&article=57 Wonder what you'll think. I didn't mention how very fine I thought Val Caniparoli (as Catalabutte) and Jim Sohm as the king her father -- he really anchors that role, though he's my favorite Carabosse: he's really hurt, you feel it. He hears the queen and the other fairies and softens towards them and then you feel the surge of bitterness, the years of snubbing and neglect.... I agree, Boada's brises were fabulous, but his temps de poisson had no curve to it, no poetry.

Welcome, artist. You remind me of myself when I was your age -- though my favorite was Beethoven. But then, I'm a guy. I wanted more than anything to play the pathetique sonata like artur Rubenstein, spent all my savings on a piano, and pursuaded my folks to pay for lessons. Alas, I never learned to relax my wrists properly -- technique IS important, you'll hurt yourself if you don't do things correctly -- so I could never develop the stamina needed for his wilder passages. Which was of course the part I was crazy about. I hope you keep coming back and sharing your insights with us. You know that Cecchetti was the first Bluebird in Sleeping Beauty? (Actually, he played TWO roles -- he was also Carabosse, the angry fairy -- what an opening night that must have been, huh?) They're doing Sleeping Beauty here where I live right now in the Bay Area. Wish you could see it -- it would be good to talk to you about it. Wonder what you'd think.

haunting image -- what a glorious profile. I guess the costume does suggest peasantry, but the face is noble in bone-structure and in expression, and exactly poised on hte border between hte masculine and the feminine. The photographer must have been a constructivist-sympathizer. Actually, the shadow is more feminine than the face. i could look at this picture forever.

wonder where the "spoon" hand started -- I have heard that people setting Tudor's ballets made a big point of it, can't remember who I heard it from but suspect it centered around Oakland Ballet (which did a number of his ballets and reconstructed "Echoing of Trumpets"). It's been a long time since I saw them regularly, but back in 69/70 i THINK I recall dancers like Sibley and Mason and Seymour having an articulated index finger, or a pattern of holding hte fingers where the third and fourth fingers were held closer to the palm and both index and pinkie were a little freer. I remember thinking they had very beautiful hands. But earlier than that, Markova, that very British ballerina, had very pronouncedly separated fingers, "staghorn" fingers, which were quite beautiful; they weren't claws, were under control (I'm going on a couple of videos and lots of photographs.)

She has an appeal intensely immediate, so soft, seductive but not in an obvious way -- reminds me of Garbo, but without the hip-thrust.

Wonderful!

Sounds lovely -- Is it the same wrist position as in Valse Fantaisie?

Sitting on the floor in the east Village: Dale, I'm sure Denby did it. And i'd bet Alastair has done it (in London, of course). And this is really the problem with the Times -- they're gray. The head man is a man and would not sit on hte floor in the East Village, he'd lose caste.

Thanks RG -- That's got to be THE most beautiful fish dive I've ever seen. SO can you get it from Netflix? or Ebay? or has it never been released on VHS or DVD?

Nobody doubts that Alastair Macaulay will be a better head critic than either of his predecessors at the Times. I supported Apollinaire because she was bringing an idealist's perspective to the question. It's clear that she knows that Alastair will be a big improvement over his predecessors, and that nevertheless there STILL ARE THINGS about the appointment that are less than ideal. He is a dancer, demonstrates in the lobby with panache, can lose himself in hte movement with the best of them. What a relief! He won't be rehashing the secondary sources, which was all Rockwell could do. But if he knows who, say, Ellen Cornfield is, I'd be very surprised. I suspect it would only be as a great jumper in the Cunningham company of old, not as the very fine, almost unregarded choreographer she is. And that's the old guard. He can come to know the scene, eventually, but it won't be easy arriving with lots of fanfare and a high profile to put in hte time sitting on hte floor trying to figure out what the artists are including and what they're in all their fastidiousness excluding from their work, and why, and whether he really cares.

I agree with Alexandra -- Newtonian Enlightenment principles are pervasive in ballet, they form the foundation of the science. Ballet technique is the result of the application of French rationalist principles to what was already known of anatomy as it relates to dancing -- the very idea of working en croix is Cartesian geometry -- the dancer in his/her box facing avant stands at the crossing of the x, y,and z axes, and it all derives from thinking logically in that manner from there.

This is hard -- it's between the white Monotones and Fille for me. Opposite ends of hte spectrum -- Monotones almost completely moonlit, and Fille almost completely sunny. But Fille wins -- since it also has a sense of the uncanny, brought in mostly by Alain, the holy fool, and also by the incredible inventiveness that lurks around every corner. One amazing idea after another -- and NOTHING ever goes on too long. And such an incredible wicked but still gentle sense of the thingsthat happen behind your back, the things other people can see about you that you can't see yourself, but (in htis ballet) they don't use it against you. And the tiny roles that can be made wonderful: I once saw Eric Hoisington make the notary into an dazzling piece of stagecraft. And David Bintley was the greatest Widow Simone I ever saw, better than Holden -- ridng in the cart on the way to the picnic, he looked back and forth from Lise to Alain, Lise, Alalin, pointing that huge nose of his at the one and then at the other, and you knew already that that mother was not going to let her daughter marry an idiot, no matter how rich he was.

Am I dreaming, or haven't I seen a photograph of Soloviev as the hero in "The Little Humpbacked Horse"? He seems perfect for hte innocent hero -- the photo of him on this thread show him as the genius of Water, and maybe what I'm thinking of is him in "The stone Flower" (same archetype). I'm asking because his image keeps coming to mind in hte wake of Yuri Possokhov's wonderful remake of The Firebird. Tiit Hellimets (who's Estonian and perfectly konws the style) played "Ivan" as much less the founding tsar and very much more the innocent youngest son, really vividly, quite wonderful -- it's very high praise to say that a dancer puts you in mind of Soloviev. When he started to dacne for the princess, tears sprang to my eyes -- he did a cabriole in double passe at a tilt -- like a folk-dance frog cabriole but with pointed feet, and it was iconic. "I love you."

"....if for no other reason than the fact that their mash notes may be hurled down from the heavens as thunderbolts of authority." Please. What makes a critic influential is how well s/he writes. By "well," I mean vividly. Gautier is by today's standards a sexist and an elitist, but his pictures of hte dancers of his day are STILL influential becaue he wrote with the power of a poet. If he were WRONG, how could we know? He's still the best dance critic ever. He was widely read at the time, enormously influential, and poetic enough to have had a shaping hand in the genesis of "Giselle." Lobenthal is a very smart man, a really knowledgeable critic, a very interesting mind. I hope he will write his own essay about Balanchine's ballerinas and their father issues. He may be onto something; Danilova, sure; Geva, Tallchief, Leclerq?.... Kirkland? hmmm. He should write it. But hardly any critic writing in English today about anything writes better than Joan Acocella. She is unsurpassed mistress (should I say master? I'm willing) of English idiom. She writes unmisunderstandably, as a result of which her audience will be potentially as large as the world of people who'll read anything so long as it's intelligible -- furthermore, she picks her battles shrewdly and is fighting on hte side of the angels. She's likely to be read a hundred years from now (as are Croce and Denby) because she writes well enough for it to be "dulce et utile" to read her.

The late Sarah Linnie Slocum, terrific lighting designer here in San Francisco, once told me that she had to put a lot of pink into the light for the glade scene -- "THEY'RE NOT DEAD," she said, "it's not moonlit." She was going for dawn, the radiant early light the romantic poets liked so much. (They all hated flat-on noontime light, but sunrise and sunset were big romantic rapturous time-zones.)

Ah Kathleen, that list! "Drawn with a fine camelhair brush" is my own personal shorthand for the entire phenomenon.... Which brings me to the list I'd have made when I first saw hte topic, music nobody else seems to have considered: "Tutti Frutti" -- I'm not at all sure I'd have liked this song so much if I hadn't learned to do the bop to it -- in fact, it made me learn to do the bop, I was so crazy about hte song, and it so powerfully begged to be danced to. "Show me what you working with" which did the same thing to me re hip-hop. "Splanky" -- absolutely the best song for Lindy hop -- in several versions by Count Basie, slow and fast. (I likes it slow.) "Symphony in C" -- it's NOT a great symphony, I discovered listening to it on hte radio. It needs the ballet to make it great. More later.....

Lobenthal is really good -- even when as in this case he makes an anagloy that is provocative. if I'd heard hte SECOND term first -- "i.e., the billie Hloiday of ballet," I wouldn't have thought of Farrell -- my first thought was Mimi Paul, actually -- and I'd go with FF and say Fitzgerald (in fact, I've always thought that -- the freedom in the phrasing is not just temporal, it's got to do with placement, the dance equivalent of tonality, and Farrell's and Fitzgerald's sense of how to embellish within a harmony are similar. Holliday explored mood and intimacy in a different way. But it's still a provocative comparison, good enough, and stimulates interesting conversation. And always, the way an artist stimulates the imagination of each of us is going to be different for each of us, so there's always room for comparing notes.