Morris Neighbor

Calliope's reference to a "dysfunctional family" has considerable resonance. For example, Mr. B could make some wildly autocratic decisions, from nearly abandoning Apollo (absent for years from the NYCB repertory, including the Stravinsky Festival!), to commissioning the notorious "shower curtain" unit set for the Tchaikovsky Festival (Philip Johnson's idea of an ice palace, executed in plastic tubing), to staging the Stravinsky Festival at enormous cost. More than one great dancer rebelled: Kirkland disastrously, Kent idiosyncratically, Ashley competitively, Farrell romantically. But others, like Patricia MacBride, who was anything by the stereotypical "Balanchine ballerina," clearly enjoyed almost every aspect of their long careers at NYCB. I would not rank his bequests in this category, however, since they all fell under the Balanchine Trust, administered by the wise and generous Barbara Horgan. (The Robbins copyrights, by the way are controlled by the same trust.) Barbara has devoted her primary attention to encouraging productions far and wide, under the guidance of knowledgeable Balanchine dancers. Companies like the Kirov can get any ballet they want, so long as they hire a Farrell or MacBride to stage it. Companies with Balanchine connections (San Francisco Ballet, Pacific Northwest Ballet, and so on) can get permissions with little red tape. NYCB has carte blanche. Ballet Unknown would have to hire a Horgan-approved teacher for several weeks of class and more weeks of rehearsal before staging any major work. Royalties are distributed to the legatees, as the primary sort of cash inheritance Mr. B could offer them. As FF knows, the only time copyright has become an important issue in staging a ballet was when Peter Martins wanted to make Tzigane part of the Balanchine Festival. Set to Ravel's flashy homage to the gypsy spirit, it was the first ballet Mr. B created for Farrell after her return to the company, and it was to her that he willed the rights. Martins, by his own description, "shot my way into the piece," in a brief partnering role. When he told Horgan he wanted it, she said (quite properly, IMHO) that Farrell would have to stage it. She did, she and Peter had a short-lived reconciliation, but the more enduring connection between NYCB and Farrell that most balletomanes (and, most likely, Horgan herself) hoped for, did not arrive. I largely agree with dirac about NPR and many other non-profits. Lacking governmental support, they fall back on demographics in hopes of attracting more donors. But I am not at all happy to be told that "public" and "independent" broadcasters must bend the knee to Madison Avenue. The notion that every decision in our society should be based on the crude logic of the market strikes me as a different sort of "irraltional enthusiasm." Having come of age in an era when public funding of the arts was an unquestioned ideal, I live in hope that we will get back there soon. Harry

I endorse, resonate, echo, and otherwise urge all to read FF's remarks. Like him, I note the passing of "family feeling" at the NYCB and at many other non-profit institutions, in New York and elsewhere. But survival in this age of "the bigger the numbers the better" has driven the company to place a great deal of emphasis on fund-raising goals, subscription renewals, and other statistical signs of succcess. Much of the ad budget has been devoted to Time Out, a magazine read mostly by the under-30 crowd. Special effort has been devoted to the web site, whose ticket-buyers are much younger than those who appear at other sources. And, yes, they are coming. It's become common to see African-American and even Asian-American fans on the Promenade, to cite an obvious sign of new audiences at the State Theatre. At the same time, though, the city's sole public, non-profit radio station has dropped all of its daytime classical music programming. The apology: one extra hour of evening/overnight music (7 PM to 6 AM, when most listeners are in a concert hall or sleeping). The explanation: RATINGS. Talk radio gets higher ratings than classical music. "Only 11% of our listeners" -- that's 110,000 people in real numbers -- "chose our daytime programs," the station's president explained, as she dumped us on the trashpile of history. In short, an "institution" today is a band of fund-raisers connected, by accident or skill, to what, with luck, remains a major artistic force. Given the odds, the NYCB is doing very well indeed.

I have severely mixed feelings about the Diamond Project. On the one hand, any time the NYCB produces a special event like this, expectations are unreasonably high for a very simple reason: the first "event" the company ever staged was the Stravinsky Festival of 1972 -- "one of the memorable experiences of a lifetime," as Nancy Reynolds wrote. Or as Robbins told an interviewer, "George opened a window and said we were going to fly; we just followed him." A week of repertory was cancelled to allow more rehearsal time for the 22 (yes, TWENTY-TWO!) premiers that followed in a single week. It's impossible to imagine any other company rising to a similar challenge, and four of the Blanchine works -- Violin Concerto, Symphony in 3 Movements, Divertimento from "Le Baiser de la fee," and Duo Concertante -- have entered the standard repertory. This is a standard no mortal could match. NYCB's subsequent festivals -- honoring Ravel and Tchaikovsky -- got less than glowing reviews, even though Mr. B. was in charge. When Martins mounted an American Music Festival, the results were predictable, even though established choreographers like Paul Taylor were hired to create new works. Personally speaking, I found many of the new works engaging (though the Ravel Fesitval was, frankly, thin). I admire the insistance on making us look again at familiar music (scholars today largely agree that Tchaikovsky is underrated), and I especially admire Martins' willingness to devote his considerable fund-raising skills to new music. This is a personal interest of mine and also of Mr. B.: "Ivesiana," "Squeaky Door," "The 4 T's" (commissioned by Balanchine himself). At the same time, few to none of these works came anywhere near "canonical" status. True, most art dies with time, but an enduring work should appear every now and then.... The new works appearing this season have often had long gestation periods -- several of the choreographers are showing works they originally developed with students at the company's School of American Ballet. This experience is valuable for the students as well as for the budding choreographers: you can't learn about creating new works without creating new works. In short: the Diamond Project is valuable for encouraging composers, musicians, dancers, and choreographers. Audiences with open minds and modest expectations will enjoy the performances, and applaud the efforts of young, ambitious aritsts. But if you're looking for a Balanchine, a Petipa, a Tchaikovsky, or a Stravinsky. stay home and wait a century or so for the genetic pool game to give us another genius.

The Trocs, like all great parodists, know that you can only skewer the art you love. (Victor Borge, for instance, could only have been a comic pianist because he also had the option of being a brilliant concertizer.) The Trocs all have extensive training in classical ballet, they've all seen hundreds of great performances, and they hire choreographers who share this high degree of sophistication. Indeed, Peter Anastos, once the Trocs' Artistic Director, has created dances for ABT and other mainstream, men-&-women companies. I'm sorry I missed the Bravo broadcast -- I hope I can catch a repeat -- but I do especially cherish the memory of an Anastos work called, "Yes, Virgina, Another Piano Ballet," in which he showed us all the bad ideas that Robbins had dropped from "Dances at a Gathering," that Feld had dropped from "Intermezzo," and that lesser choregraphers would have dumped on us, given the chance. It was utterly hilarious, but also enlightening. It shows why "Dances" and "Intermezzo" are among the major works of 20th-century ballet by the simple act of illuminating the choices their creators made.

Donating dance videos to your local library is an absolutely wonderful idea. My local branch library has benefited enourmously fromn community fund-raising and support groups, and video loans are unquestionably its most popular service. At the same time, though, donors might discuss their gifts with the local librarian before proceeding. While a "Nutcracker" or a "Sleeping Beauty" would surely be welcome anywhere, "Summerspace" is a much harder sell in most neighborhood branches. Library professionals should be able to help prospective donors direct their videos to an archive where the largest number of users are waiting. Also, since it's tax time, donors might consider various alternative ways to give support to archives. The tax laws do permit you to give up your tapes (and your cash) and enjoy them, too.

Just a note about Farrell Fan's reference to the All England Tennis Championships. As a visit to www.wimbledon.org will show, women are still referred to as "Miss" or Mrs." For instance, the two-time defending champion is "Miss V.E.S. Williams." Chrissie is "Mrs. J.A. Lloyd." Evonne is "Mrs. R.A. Cawley." And Billie Jean is "Mrs. L.W. King." No wonder so many tennis lesbians have gone public: they want their own names on the scoreboard! I still have vivid memories of a Chris-and-Martina final in which the coolly Brit referee consistently mispronounced the Czech's name. Somewhere in the second set, Martina lost her cool, stormed the chair, and shrieked NAH-VRAH-TEE-LOH-VAH three times, adding (in English), "I won this championship last year. You should bloody well know my name!" Brava, as we say at the opera.... The US Open, on the other hand, uses only last names for both men and women, unless distinctions (as between "V. Williams" and "S. Williams")are essential. P.S. Sorry about misspelling Suzanne's family name. I grew up in the WASP suburbs of Cincinnati, where "Thompson" was a spelling challenge.

Just a note about Farrell Fan's reference to the All England Tennis Championships. As a visit to www.wimbledon.org will show, women are still referred to as "Miss" or Mrs." For instance, the two-time defending champion is "Miss V.E.S. Williams." Chrissie is "Mrs. J.A. Lloyd." Evonne is "Mrs. R.A. Cawley." And Billie Jean is "Mrs. L.W. King." No wonder so many tennis lesbians have gone public: they want their own names on the scoreboard! I still have vivid memories of a Chris-and-Martina final in which the coolly Brit referee consistently mispronounced the Czech's name. Somewhere in the second set, Martina lost her cool, stormed the chair, and shrieked NAH-VRAH-TEE-LOH-VAH three times, adding (in English), "I won this championship last year. You should bloody well know my name!" Brava, as we say at the opera.... The US Open, on the other hand, uses only last names for both men and women, unless distinctions (as between "V. Williams" and "S. Williams")are essential. P.S. Sorry about misspelling Suzanne's family name. I grew up in the WASP suburbs of Cincinnati, where "Thompson" was a spelling challenge.

This may note be the best place to post it, but the New York City Ballet sells an extensively illustrated work-out book on its website, www.nycballet.com and through the usual book vendors.

Wow, FF, you sure stirred up a hornet's nest! I have several explanations of why dancers are so often identified by their first names. First and foremost, dance is an art of the young. The term "baby ballerina" has become a cliche. Darci Kistler first danced a principal role at 16 (the Adagio in "Symphony in C"; I was there and I was stunned). Suzanne Farrell had to choose (according to her autobiography) between getting a high school diploma and dancing Stravinsky's "Variations for Piano and Orchestra." I suspect that most of the dancers described here are young enough to be the children (or even grandchildren) of contributors like me. Therefore, it's quite natural to address them by their first names, as we address other young people. Furthermore, they addess each other that way, since young people are not big on ceremony. Even less formally, they refer to each other as "boys" and "girls" -- a custom familiar to anyone who has visited even one dance class or rehearsal. It's hard to refer to a "girl" as "Ms. Kowroski," no matter how mature and elegant her technique. Opera singers, by contrast, reach their peaks 10-15 years later, and may earn titles to go with their first names, like "Dame Joan" and "Dame Kiri." Then there's the fact that many surnames are made up. Suzie Fricker (as Jacques d'Amboise first knew her) became Suzanne Farrell, Linda Merrill became Merrill Ashley -- in both cases, adopting names plucked from the phone book. To be sure, this practice has faded. In "A Chorus Line," Priscilla Lopez (her real name) announced "ethnic is in," and she has indeed enjoyed a successful career in musical theatre. But ballet remains an exotic art, whose founders took made-up names like "Nanette de Valois" or "Anthony Tudor," or "adapted names" like "Georges Balanchine" and "Jerome Robbins." Historically speaking, the great Dance Boom of the late 1960's has also shaped the way we think and write about dancers. This was an era in which the old order was seen as dying and the new order was built on more direct, less formal relationships. Hence, everyone was on a first-name basis. We were all friends and allies in a movement to bring a unique art to a wider public, and we all used first names. It's also worth noting that public relations malings from dance companies tend to use first names. While NYCB always refers to "Mr. Martins," the fund-raisers I have received from the Cunningham and Taylor companies always refer to "Merce" and "Paul," respectively. These companies perceive a (not unreasonable) sense of community with their donors, no matter how small. On the other hand, critics are bound by the style guides of their publications: the NY Times, for instance, insists on the use of last names for all references after the first. I'm pleased to see dancers get the same respect as other performers in print, but in informal conversations, on the Concourse or on line, first names sound quite natural to me. In short, FF, when you say "Maria," I know you don't mean Caligari.... P.S. A brief note on sports nicknames: I don't see the sexism others have written about. In today's broadcast of the Masters tournament, the broadcasters referred invariably to "Tiger," though there was no others Woods challenging him for the title. First-name reference is usually proof of achievement in sports: "Arnie" will always be Palmer in golf, "Yogi" will always be Berra in baseball, "Chrissie" will always be Evert in tennis.

Wow, FF, you sure stirred up a hornet's nest! I have several explanations of why dancers are so often identified by their first names. First and foremost, dance is an art of the young. The term "baby ballerina" has become a cliche. Darci Kistler first danced a principal role at 16 (the Adagio in "Symphony in C"; I was there and I was stunned). Suzanne Farrell had to choose (according to her autobiography) between getting a high school diploma and dancing Stravinsky's "Variations for Piano and Orchestra." I suspect that most of the dancers described here are young enough to be the children (or even grandchildren) of contributors like me. Therefore, it's quite natural to address them by their first names, as we address other young people. Furthermore, they addess each other that way, since young people are not big on ceremony. Even less formally, they refer to each other as "boys" and "girls" -- a custom familiar to anyone who has visited even one dance class or rehearsal. It's hard to refer to a "girl" as "Ms. Kowroski," no matter how mature and elegant her technique. Opera singers, by contrast, reach their peaks 10-15 years later, and may earn titles to go with their first names, like "Dame Joan" and "Dame Kiri." Then there's the fact that many surnames are made up. Suzie Fricker (as Jacques d'Amboise first knew her) became Suzanne Farrell, Linda Merrill became Merrill Ashley -- in both cases, adopting names plucked from the phone book. To be sure, this practice has faded. In "A Chorus Line," Priscilla Lopez (her real name) announced "ethnic is in," and she has indeed enjoyed a successful career in musical theatre. But ballet remains an exotic art, whose founders took made-up names like "Nanette de Valois" or "Anthony Tudor," or "adapted names" like "Georges Balanchine" and "Jerome Robbins." Historically speaking, the great Dance Boom of the late 1960's has also shaped the way we think and write about dancers. This was an era in which the old order was seen as dying and the new order was built on more direct, less formal relationships. Hence, everyone was on a first-name basis. We were all friends and allies in a movement to bring a unique art to a wider public, and we all used first names. It's also worth noting that public relations malings from dance companies tend to use first names. While NYCB always refers to "Mr. Martins," the fund-raisers I have received from the Cunningham and Taylor companies always refer to "Merce" and "Paul," respectively. These companies perceive a (not unreasonable) sense of community with their donors, no matter how small. On the other hand, critics are bound by the style guides of their publications: the NY Times, for instance, insists on the use of last names for all references after the first. I'm pleased to see dancers get the same respect as other performers in print, but in informal conversations, on the Concourse or on line, first names sound quite natural to me. In short, FF, when you say "Maria," I know you don't mean Caligari.... P.S. A brief note on sports nicknames: I don't see the sexism others have written about. In today's broadcast of the Masters tournament, the broadcasters referred invariably to "Tiger," though there was no others Woods challenging him for the title. First-name reference is usually proof of achievement in sports: "Arnie" will always be Palmer in golf, "Yogi" will always be Berra in baseball, "Chrissie" will always be Evert in tennis.

May I raise a modest objection to the trend in this conversation? Ari originally specified "scores specifically written for dance," which obviously excludes works like "Concerto Barocco" and "Divertimento #15." On the other hand, it limits consideration of Prokofiev to "Romeo and Juliet" which is a wonderful piece of music, but one that ties the hands of any choreographer. His Violin Concerto inspired Robbins' "Opus 19: The Dreamer," and "Peter and the Wolf" has also been turned into ballets by several choreographers. Thanks largely to the influence of Balanchine, most American ballet today is based on music (as opposed to the narrative, theatrical, and visual sources preferred in Europe). Young choreographers are more likely to seek inspiration in a record store than in a museum or theatre. In this context, it might be more interesting to ask members to select a composer whose music has inspired the most interesting dance, rather than rank narrowly-defined "dance composers."

May I raise a modest objection to the trend in this conversation? Ari originally specified "scores specifically written for dance," which obviously excludes works like "Concerto Barocco" and "Divertimento #15." On the other hand, it limits consideration of Prokofiev to "Romeo and Juliet" which is a wonderful piece of music, but one that ties the hands of any choreographer. His Violin Concerto inspired Robbins' "Opus 19: The Dreamer," and "Peter and the Wolf" has also been turned into ballets by several choreographers. Thanks largely to the influence of Balanchine, most American ballet today is based on music (as opposed to the narrative, theatrical, and visual sources preferred in Europe). Young choreographers are more likely to seek inspiration in a record store than in a museum or theatre. In this context, it might be more interesting to ask members to select a composer whose music has inspired the most interesting dance, rather than rank narrowly-defined "dance composers."

I have a vague memory of "Circle of Fifths" as well-crafted and entertaining but not, well, memorable. The new Diamond Project choreographers have been announced: Christopher Wheeldon, three company members -- Melissa Barak, Miriam Mahdaviani, and Albert Evans -- plus Stephen Baynes and Mauro Bignozetti, who are unknown to me. Wheeldon has produced several interesting ballets already, and the two women have each done stylish and enjoyable pieces for the company and/or the school. No new classics have appeared, but it's a nice change from the same old same old. Who will get what spot will be determined as the works take shape, since Peter hopes to create balanced programs. The company is very proud of its web site, so details should appear there as quickly as anywhere else. Another suggestion, if you'd like to make a last-minute decision ... Come June weekends, the City Ballet often has a nice assortment of returned subscription tickets on sale right before the performance. Don't go to the box office, but to the nice ladies at the marble table in the lobby. The price is the same (though they take only cash) and you get subscriber seats. Of course, if something unusually exciting happens, they disappear fast, but the odds are definitely in your favor, since trendy New Yorkers assume that "everyone" is out of town on summer weekends.

Minkus seems out of place to me. I can think of any number of composers I'd rank above him, from Shostakovich to Satie to Donald York. In any event, Stravinsky tops my list simply because the composer's wonderful sense of rhythm makes the spirit of dance part of all his music, even in styles as varied as The Fairy's Kiss and Agon.

Minkus seems out of place to me. I can think of any number of composers I'd rank above him, from Shostakovich to Satie to Donald York. In any event, Stravinsky tops my list simply because the composer's wonderful sense of rhythm makes the spirit of dance part of all his music, even in styles as varied as The Fairy's Kiss and Agon.

I've been watching Goldberg, and other NYCB staples for long enough to see the entire company turn over, and I have two comments on changing casts. On the one hand, a part is often so clearly built on one individual's style and gifts that any replacement seems inept and out of place. The most obvious example is Mozartiana, a bouquet from Mr. B to Suzanne Farrell. The concluding "Theme and Variations," in particular, is a virtual encyclopedia of Farrell steps and gestures. After her retirement, the company avoided the work for a few seasons, then tried one or two top-flight ballerinas in the role. They just looked like bad imitations of the original, despite their considerable efforts. Finally, Kyra Nichols came along and showed how to make it her own. She explained in an interview that she only studied the tape long enough to learn the steps, then put it away, working on the part just with a mirror. As a result, there is an homage to the original in the high splits and off-balance turns, but the performance is all Kyra. Sometimes, though, it's just a matter of experience. Darci Kistler, for instance, is a dancer who just keeps getting better the more often she performs a role. I remember her first Sonnambula only because I wish I could forget it: competent but without passion. When I saw her do it recently, she was ravishing, almost reminiscent of Allegra Kent's evanescent performance. There's an extra problem with the Robbins ballets, since he preferred to stage revivals with the company's younger members, who would do his bidding in every detail. He was a fanatic for re-creating precisely the image he wanted, and more experienced dancers, confronted with a step they find awkward, tend to say, "Gee, Jerry, don't you think it looks better this way?" while demonstrating an alternative. As a result, Robbins gave us a chance to see rising stars in demanding parts, but they didn't always have the chance to mature in them.

Thank you, Estelle, for reminding me that here in America we have an exceptional civic asset in our public libraries. And the recently re-built Performing Arts Library at Lincoln Center is an even more wonderful resource, regrettably limited to those who can make it to New York. There is one additional book I failed to mention, Choreography by Balanchine: A Catalogue of Works, a comprehensive catalogue raisonnee of the master's work. The listings are less detailed than Reynolds, but they include every public presentation of ballets under Mr. B's supervision. Well, this is only six years -- a much more modest scale than Reynolds' 40-year survey. And as "rg" has pointed out, the original required an enormous amount of paperwork. On the other hand, I personally heard Barbara Horgan, administrator of the Balanchine Trust, explain that the wonderful Balanchine shows from PBS would never make it to home video because resolving all the copyright and union problems made it a losing proposition. Nonetheless, the videos, on the Nonesuch label, are available in most larger video stores and the usual online sources. So we can live in hope that an oddball entrepreneur will look to our needs.

If I may briefly invoke my years in the ad game (and my upbringing in the home of a Procter & Gamble executive), I'd point out that some advertisers are more sensitive than others, depending mostly on the paths available to reach their audiences. MacDonald's, which can use any mass medium, will send its own inpectors to meat plants in response to consumer complaints. Film, theatre, and book advertisers, who *MUST* be in the Times to satisfy their various constituencies, are much less responsive. Indeed, many movie, theatre, and book contracts actually require a certain amount of ads in the paper, so letters in this area are likely to fall on deaf press agents. With ad rates far too expensive for most dance companies to buy more than a tiny announcement, the dance world has little leverage here. After all, where can they reach so many prospective audience members?

If I may briefly invoke my years in the ad game (and my upbringing in the home of a Procter & Gamble executive), I'd point out that some advertisers are more sensitive than others, depending mostly on the paths available to reach their audiences. MacDonald's, which can use any mass medium, will send its own inpectors to meat plants in response to consumer complaints. Film, theatre, and book advertisers, who *MUST* be in the Times to satisfy their various constituencies, are much less responsive. Indeed, many movie, theatre, and book contracts actually require a certain amount of ads in the paper, so letters in this area are likely to fall on deaf press agents. With ad rates far too expensive for most dance companies to buy more than a tiny announcement, the dance world has little leverage here. After all, where can they reach so many prospective audience members?

I'm sorry to hear that the suit goes on. As for allowing other companies access to Graham works.... This is something Graham refused in her lifetime, except for a tiny handful of companies that chose to devote their entire efforts to her technique and her works. In this age of fallen barriers, I can see why many companies would want to add a Graham or two to their repertories. Acts of Light and Diversion of Angels, abstract dance pieces, are especially attractive to classical and "non-traditional" companies. But the best Graham dancers and teachers are allied against Protas, who controls the copyrights. So there's a real risk that "authorized" performances will be hideous burlesques, while the "inner core" continues to present original dances that avoid authentic Graham choreography but capture the true essence of her work. Surely this great genius deserves better!

I blush!

Kathleen O'Connell really brings this whole discussion to its logical conclusion: in this age of proliferating media, "The Newspaper of Record" is less important than ever. Still and all, it's nice to know that some mention of every dance performance in New York City will make it into the stacks (real or electronic) of every major library in the world. In my disquistion on the media, I also forgot to mention that Newsday is also making a new run at Times readers. Clearly, success is its own punishment. As for "minuscule," I must apologize if I sounded petty or vindictive. Seeing even a minor mistake in a message so elegantly composed and persuasively argued brought out my inner William Safire. I promise to chain him in the dungeon from now on, and sincerely regret any embarrassment I might have caused.

Kathleen O'Connell really brings this whole discussion to its logical conclusion: in this age of proliferating media, "The Newspaper of Record" is less important than ever. Still and all, it's nice to know that some mention of every dance performance in New York City will make it into the stacks (real or electronic) of every major library in the world. In my disquistion on the media, I also forgot to mention that Newsday is also making a new run at Times readers. Clearly, success is its own punishment. As for "minuscule," I must apologize if I sounded petty or vindictive. Seeing even a minor mistake in a message so elegantly composed and persuasively argued brought out my inner William Safire. I promise to chain him in the dungeon from now on, and sincerely regret any embarrassment I might have caused.

As I read this string, I recall reading in various biographies that "Georges," as he was known as a child, hoped to follow in the footsteps of his father, a composer and musician to the Tsar. But he felt he had no gift for composing and dedicated himself to dance instead. At a recent appearance before company "Friends," the new NYCB Music Director, Andrea Quinn, expressed great interest in the company's music archives. She had found no original scores by Mr. B., but noted that many piano reductions in his hand are still used in rehearsals. The late Robert Irving also knew and admired these reductions, taking special note of Mr. B's take on Charles Ives -- "a dicey endeavour," as he noted. Balanchine may have learned a lot about piano reductions from his mentor Stravinsky. When the composer found it difficult to get symphonies to perform his work, Stravinsky wrote his own chamber reductions. At one point, he and violinist Samuel Duskin went on tour with several reductions and one original work: the Duo Concertante. He even wrote a two-piano reduction of The Rite of Spring, which Paul Taylor used for his very original take on the score.

As I read this string, I recall reading in various biographies that "Georges," as he was known as a child, hoped to follow in the footsteps of his father, a composer and musician to the Tsar. But he felt he had no gift for composing and dedicated himself to dance instead. At a recent appearance before company "Friends," the new NYCB Music Director, Andrea Quinn, expressed great interest in the company's music archives. She had found no original scores by Mr. B., but noted that many piano reductions in his hand are still used in rehearsals. The late Robert Irving also knew and admired these reductions, taking special note of Mr. B's take on Charles Ives -- "a dicey endeavour," as he noted. Balanchine may have learned a lot about piano reductions from his mentor Stravinsky. When the composer found it difficult to get symphonies to perform his work, Stravinsky wrote his own chamber reductions. At one point, he and violinist Samuel Duskin went on tour with several reductions and one original work: the Duo Concertante. He even wrote a two-piano reduction of The Rite of Spring, which Paul Taylor used for his very original take on the score.