Kathleen O'Connell

I scribbled this out during my lunch hour, and only just now got a chance to post it, so I may be several posts behind. I apologize in advance if I’m retreading what may be by now old ground, and I especially apologize if I sound like I’m falling on anyone else like a ton of bricks. I would like to challenge the notion that those of us who admire Balanchine’s ballets and who wish to see his Company and his successors keep his aesthetic alive are 1) conservative in our artistic tastes, 2) averse to being “shocked,” or 3) are less accepting of or open to “new music and unorthodox styles” and that these are the reasons we responded negatively to Eifman’s new ballet. Suggesting that someone who prefers, say, Episodes (or even Prodigal Son) to Musagète is old-fashioned is approximately equivalent to suggesting that someone who prefers Arnold Schoenberg to Def Leppard is old-fashioned. Eifman’s ballet is not “new” in any meaningful sense of the word, just as Def Leppard was not genuinely “new” pop music in its heyday, however “shocking” a thirteen year old boy’s parents might have found it. (Now Hip-Hop – that was new …) New chroeographically? Sorry – I didn’t see anything there that boldly crossed the frontier into new territory, even for a “dramatic” or “expressionistic” effort. Eifman relentlessly mines ballet’s most attention-grabbing “special effects” – extreme extensions, complicated partnering, and the like – but in my opinion does little to expand its vocabulary or the expressive potential of its syntax (something Forsythe, who also mines extremes, has done, I think). What’s more, he relies on those special effects and the alleged shock value of his dramatic material in the same way that the current crop of disaster flick directors do – as a substitute for narrative and dramatic craft. (Unlike Kisselgoff, I didn’t find Musagète particularly “well made.” Nor did it suggest to me that Eifman has “a firm grasp of the classical vocabulary” or that he “did his research” on Balanchine. Because he could quote some of the most iconic gestures in 20th century dance? Please, I could do that.) Let’s just say that Musagète is to a thoughtful exploration of Balanchine’s life and art as “The Day after Tomorrow” is to a thoughtful exploration of the implications of climate change. (Digression: “28 Days Later” is a thoughtful pop examination of humankind undone by its technology. Musagète is pop ballet, but not necessarily good pop ballet. And I’d be the first to tell you that there IS good pop, and that sometimes, only pop will do.) New in its exploration of creativity, human relations, life? Sorry to disappoint, but it serves up the same old tired notions from the last century that we are somehow supposed to find mind-expanding (and yes, shocking) yet one more time: geniuses are tortured, love is torture, art is the product of tortured geniuses’ tortured erotic impulses, tortured geniuses cruelly torture those they love, and tortured geniuses die solitary, tortured deaths etc, etc, etc. It’s a tiresomely sentimental in its way as a Hallmark greeting card. New music? Hello? – we got a smorgasbord of extracts from Bach and about eight minutes of Tchaikovsky’s 4th. (Extracts from longer works are one of my pet peeves, even when Balanchine does it, but let’s save that for another post – I’ve already digressed enough.) To make matters worse, it could have been ANY old music (and I almost mean “old” literally), especially during the T&V pastiche. I was put in mind of something that either Arlene Croce or Pauline Kael said about Flashdance: “The dancing doesn’t go the way the music goes, the dancing goes the way an eggbeater goes.” It’s not as if Eifman chose to challenge himself and his audience with, oh, Sigur Ros or Radiohead or even a dead white avant-garde male like John Cage. I kept thinking of how Mark Morris might have handled the project: he would have had a lot more fun with the rolling chair and Mourka for starters; he would have done a much better T&V homage, even with modern dancers in bare feet; and I think we might have gotten a wider emotional range as well. By the way, there’s hardly a bleaker, more genuinely unsettling portrayal of a woman in ballet than Prodigal’s Siren (and talk about women straddling men suggestively…). I've seen it a dozen times and more and it still upsets me. So yes, Balanchine, rarely subjects women to overt violence (which may have been what some found so distressing in Shambards) but Central Park in the Dark is pretty disturbing nonetheless. I think Balanchine's portrayal of women and of the relationships between men and women are more varied and subtle than he is sometimes given credit for. And now that we've had our fill of alienation and anomie, perhaps we will find them new.

Carbro -- was this in response to my post? If so, re-read the sentence and think about it -- it wasn't intended as a compliment. As I entered State Theater last night I thought "Oh, how bad could it possibly be?" Now I know. (PS: credit is due to one of the editors at Mathematical Reviews, who apparently was the first to coin the now often used phrase "it fills a much needed gap in the literature.")

Musagète fills a much needed gap in the repertory.

NYCB Saturday Evening, January 17, 2004: Apollo & Harlequinade If only Peter Martins had decided to re-attach what Balanchine lopped off of Apollo and to extract what he (Balanchine) stuffed back into Harlequinade! Don’t get me wrong: it’s a great big box of bon-bons, but it would be a better box of bon-bons minus the ones with the icky pink centers. Now, I was thoroughly enchanted by much of Harlequinade (which I had never seen before), and would very much like to see the enchanting parts again, but I found the Ballabile des enfants and the various Flotillas des invités rather intrusive overall (the latter in Act I especially), completely superfluous to the proceedings, and – let’s be frank, shall we – nearly interminable if one is not the proud parent of a Polinchinelle or Petit Harlequin. I like the kids as much as the next guy, but they need to be sprinkled in with a deft hand. (Think Dream or Mozartiana. I suspect that I am going to be taken to task for this bit of crankiness. Yes, yes: I understand that Balanchine is harkening back to the traditions of his Maryinsky training, that it’s an exposition of ballet’s great chain of being, that to the practiced eye these are wonderful little dances exploiting the simplicity imposed by the limitations of the available vocabulary, etc etc etc – but in this instance I think the children – and the Cortege des invités, who could be older students themselves, actually – are slathered too generously onto what might otherwise be a compact and elegant treat. This isn't a complaint about the quality of the dancing, by the way -- though I wonder how they managed to get the children rehearsed given that the Nutcracker just wound up a couple of weeks ago.) Finally, Drigo’s score is tuneful, but hardly so charming that we must have absolutely every note. Oh, and why do I prefer Apollo with the prologue? Because the audience actually shuts up when the music starts. I am ever stunned by the number of people who are of the opinion that it is perfectly OK to continue one’s conversation at full volume through the opening minutes of one of the masterworks of the 20th century so long as the curtain has not been raised. GRRRRRR! There, that’s out of the way. Back to the performance itself. I groaned when we saw the dreaded white slip tucked into the program: Borree was to dance Terpsichore in place of Ansanelli; Ansanelli was to dance Columbine in place of Borree, and both Gold and Hübbe were out. I had been eagerly anticipating Ansanelli’s Terpsichore all week and Hübbe and Gold are particular favorites. Afterwards, my husband and I agreed that 1) while we still missed Gold and Hübbe, Millepied and De Luz were wonderful and 2) Ansanelli’s Colombine was so delightful it’s impossible to imagine anyone else in the role right now, and it was a privilege to experience it. This was the performance that convinced me that Ansanelli has really and truly become a principal ballerina, and I simply cannot say enough good things about it. It struck me that she now combines what is an undeniably sweet, unmannered, and affecting stage presence with a principal’s authority and assurance. Her performance was a harmonious, integrated whole and looked as natural as breathing: utterly musical, nothing done for mere effect, no mannerisms (and I suspect that this role could tempt a dancer into more than a few of them), and completely trusting of the expressive potential of the choreography itself. Case in point: the Act II series of slow turns on point across the stage that distill into chainés and culminate in kisses blown to the audience was achingly lovely – as if to say “I am utterly happy and I want you to be utterly happy too” – and indeed, at that moment it was impossible not to be. She also seems much stronger. (There was only one terrifying “Oh no, she’s going to get hurt again!” moment, at the beginning of a series of fouettés – but she shrugged it off and finished with what looked like a triple.) In the past Ansanelli’s dancing sometimes suggested that she was simply being blown around the stage by a wind machine in the wings and happened to be able to make pretty shapes in the process; but on Saturday evening, although still whisper–light, she herself was clearly the source of the dance’s energy and impulse. By the way, the woman in line behind me in the ladies’ room thought that Ansanelli’s Columbine wasn’t “mischievous” the way McBride’s was, and that she should try harder to achieve McBride’s effect. I couldn’t disagree more: it was perfect the way it was. Please, RUN to State Theater tomorrow night and see for yourself! And while you’re there, you’ll see lots of fine dancing from everyone else in the cast. Amanda Edge’s Pierrette was witty and whip-sharp, and it’s gratifying to see her featured more prominently, especially in a role that showcases her special strengths. Millepied crossed the “really and truly a principal” threshold a season or two ago, and I like him more and more. Earlier on (just around the time he was promoted), I thought he pushed everything a bit too hard, as if he believed he ought to strain for an extra half inch on every jump or an extra rotation on every turn to justify his promotion, and his dancing seemed brittle and forced as a result. Well, now he’s either got that extra half inch for real or he’s relaxed enough to simply do what looks best, which in his case looks simply terrific — and is genuinely exciting when that’s what’s called for. His Harlequin was less of a rascal than some might have liked, but I thought that this was wholly appropriate given the sweetness of Ansanelli’s Columbine: a more devious and heartless Harlequin would have thrown the emotional pitch of the central couple out of balance. I’m running out of time, and can’t compliment Danchig-Waring, De Luz, Sylve, and Tinsley’s performances as much as they deserve. (I don’t think I’ve ever seen a dancer as solidly and satisfyingly placed as Sylve was in her variations as La Bonne Fée: her arabesques were like monuments. As Léandre, Danchig-Waring successfully negotiated that fine line between screamingly funny and over-the-top.) Each of Les Scaramouches also deserves to be singled out for special praise, as do Les Alouettes. I never got around to nominating my NYCB MVP in the “Goodbye to 2003” threads, but it was going to be the senior corps; I saw more than a couple of performances in which these talented and hard-working men and women were the dancers one watched, not the principals. And I hope La Patrouille had as much fun dancing as we did watching. Finally, to the young man who snatched up the errant pom-pom and tossed it into the wings – well done! Others have already praised Boal’s Apollo, and there’s nothing for me to do but second their praise. Bouder was a terrific Polyhymnia and I eagerly await her Terpsichore .

I don't think opera companies really are "museums" in the way that some ballet companies might elect to be. There are a couple of ways in which ballet companies differ from opera companies that may come into play here: 1. I can't think of an opera house that's been charged with the diligent conservation of the work of a single composer in the way that NYCB, the RDB etc are (by at least some) expected to preserve the work of a particular choreographer. Some might be expected to preserve the elements of a national style, but that's a different thing (and getting rarer by the minute). 2. Most opera companies aren't "companies" in the way that most ballet companies are: for lack of a better word, "specialists" are purpose-hired by opera companies from an interantional pool of singers to perform for a limited run the roles for which they are suited by voice type, performing style, training, expertise, and experience. Yes, every opera company has a "house soprano" who regularly performs "comprimario" roles and occaisionally may take on a lead role as a member of the second or third cast -- but the roster at the Met or even City Opera doesn't function in the same way as the roster at NYCB. An opera company isn't a cohesive unit that can be easily directed towards a curatorial function in the way that, say, NYCB might be. 3. Singers aren't trained in a company school for the purpose of performing the works in the company's repertory. They come from all over and while most are probably conservatory trained, a number are not. And they start late when compared to dancers. 4. There is in fact considerable disagreement in opera-land regarding the level of care with which certain core operas and performance traditions are being maintained, the ability to adequately cast the works of certain composers (e.g., Verdi and Wagner), the degree to which "historically informed" performance practice ought to be applied to older works, etc. The "museum" label might be applied to the enterpise as a whole, but not to any one company in particular. I suspect, however, that the advent of a "museum" company or two would probably be warmly applauded by at least some segments of the opera audience. The current state of affairs in certain corners of the opera repertory, where it is almost impossible to put together a first rate cast, a gifted conductor, and a skilled production team, all of whom are completely at ease in the requisite style does suggest, I think, what can happen when the curatorial function is dsimissed or abandoned. Should NYCB become the Balanchine museum? I don't know, but some company should.

If I say "Gene Kelly," is that cheating? Since Hans said "male dancer's style," I thought I'd take the liberty of pointing to a model outside of ballet. I think America does have a particular style of male dancing, but it's more prominent in dance forms other than ballet. Nonetheless, I think elements of that style have percolated into ballet: they are brought out most obviously in works such as Who Cares or Fancy Free, which make clear references to popular culture, but they are present in more purely "classical" works as well. I also think non-American dancers can replicate the style (Hubbe comes to mind). Hmmm ... but how to describe it in words? Unfussy and relatively unadorned? A downplaying of preparation and recovery? (Here I'm thinking of other styles that acknowlege -- even relish -- preparation and finish: "OK, multiple tours coming, please watch! The tension should be killing you! Whew! OK ! What a lot of turns! Exciting, no? But please now observe my perfect repose! OK, I will even stay here for a moment so that you may savor it!") And there's something about where the center of gravity is and a degree of "play" around that center that I can't describe at all, but that seems distinctively "American" to me. Sigh ... just pop Gene into the VCR, and I think you'll see what I mean -- and I think you'll see it peeping out on the ballet stage as well. Alexandra -- I'm a little puzzled by the distinction you drew between "presentational style" and "dancing style." Wouldn't they be inextricably linked?

I voted "yes, " but, please, not the current production, which I consider an absolute eyesore. I found it as unredeemably ugly this time around as I did when it was first thrust upon us. Indeed, my deepest wish is to win big in Lotto (I may even rent a car and drive to a Powerball state) so that I can endow a new production and personally put a match to this one. (For the record, I also loathe NYCB's Coppelia. By the way, by "production" I mean sets and costumes, not choreography.) Actually, I think the front drops are rather nice; I found them reminiscent of the work of Joan Mitchell, who is one of my favorite artists. I would keep them along with the Act II backdrop to decorate a new ballet. It's not that I require a traditional, fairy tale production -- it's simply that this one renders absolutely airless the environment in which the dancing happens. I have never seen the State Theater stage reduced to such suffocating proportions -- even though there is practically nothing on it but dancers. (By contrast, the sets for A Midsummer Night's Dream make it look as big as all outdoors.) The costumes, especially those for Act I, look ugly and cheap. Their colors, which might have been effective as an element of energy and emotion in a (static) painting, are distracting overkill when deployed in the service of actual movement. The sets and costumers for each of the acts need to provide the context in which we are to understand Prince Siegfried and his response to Odette and Odile; in my opinion, these sets don't really do that. Again, it's not that they are "abstract" or "non-traditional"; it's that they don't tell us how the (pastoral) place where Act I happens is different from the (magical) place where Act II happens or different again from the (courtly) place where Act III happens. Enough. Now, why do I think NYCB should do Swan Lake? 1. I believe there IS a place for a neo-classical treatment of the material -- just as I believe there is a place for a "romantic" approach to the performance of Bach in addition to a "historically informed" approach. I like Bach played on a piano as much as I like Bach played on a harpsichord, but I expect the pianist to approach the material differently from the harpsichordist because their instruments offer different possibilities. For lack of a better term, NYCB is a different "instrument" than, say, the Royal Ballet. I don't believe that this means that NYCB should therefore be barred from dancing Swan Lake; I do believe it means they need to dance it in a way that true to the expressive possibilities of their style. I wouldn't want the NYCB "transposition" to supplant other versions, of course, just as I wouldn't want Bach played on a modern grand piano to replace Bach played on a harpsichord. I think there's room -- indeed a need -- for both. 2. It's Tchaikovsky. NYCB has a powerful tradition in Tchaikovsky. The music is too wonderful to get locked up into a single artifact. 3. It provides the dancers with a different set of challenges and helps them explore the varied materials of their art. 4. Martins gives us a jester! ;-). 5. Heck, I'd like Wheeldon to take a crack at Giselle. ;-D

I gather that “Look Of Love Contacts” are now in short supply. Pop them in and you’ll look at your ballerina in a manner that suggests that she’s there for some purpose other than to give you something to do with your hands while you’re waiting for your variation.

Although it's not "ballet" in the strictest sense of the word, Mark Morris' "The Hard Nut" does contain a very moving pas de deux for Drosselmeyer and the Nutcracker Prince. Is it romantic? I'm not sure, but it is certainly very tender -- and the word "doomed" has never once entered my mind while watching it (although "farewell" has). I think it's one of the high points of the whole evening -- along with that fabulous and fabulously joyful dance of the snowflakes.

For whatever interest it may have: while I was squandering my hard-earned dollars (and far too many hours) at the Strand today, I noticed that they had many new hardback copies of Suki Schorer's "Balanchine Technique" on sale for $14.95 (list $40). If you live outside of NYC (or if you don't relish a trek to B'way and 12th) and you'd like a copy, you can order one online from www.strandbooks.com. But the Strand is always worth a visit (and dangerously close to my apartment) ...

Say it ain't so! Ritter's leaving too? I've been out of town for a while so I must have missed the news. Where is he going? Wherever it is, it is their gain and NYCB's great loss. (I'm assuming that he's going to dance somewhere else and that he's not embarking on some entirely new carreer.) I've always particularly admired the clarity, musicality, and elegance of his dancing and will sorely miss his presence in future seasons. I thought he looked particularly good this season; he danced (wonderfully) in virtually every program that I saw, and I thought that his NYCB carreer might finally be picking up some long ovedue and well deserved traction. I wish him much success wherever he goes.

I hope late truly is better than never! I attended the Saturday afternoon workshop performance (June 1), and ejoyed it thoroughly, as always. First of all, my thanks to everyone who danced for giving us a delightful afternoon. Secondly, my thanks to all the parents, friends, and siblings out there for providing your loving support to these fine young dancers over the many years of hard work and dedication that it took for them to reach the stage -- without that support their achievement (and our enjoyment of it) wouldn't be possible. I found lots of things to like in this year's workshop. Several of the dancers struck me as being exceptionally musical -- something I'm always pleased to see since to my mind it's musicality that separates the truly excellent dancers from the merely good ones. I also noticed that a several of the men (not always the leads, I should add) seemed as focused on line and placement, as well as on a general elegance of deportment, as they were on the more ballistic elements of male technique -- another good harbinger "for the long haul," so to speak. For me, the only real downside to attending the Workshop performances is that often it's the last look I get at a dancer I'd really like to see more of, since many of those performing do move on to other parts of the world to pursue their dance careers or choose to pursue careers other than dance. Anyway, my congratulations to all, and my best wishes for continued success!

If you're coming to NYC for a performance and if you have any interest in the visual arts, try to catch the special exhibit of medieval and renaissance tapestries at the Metropolitan Museum of Art before it closes on June 19th. Normally I wouldn't clutter up a ballet-focussed forum with a post on a museum exhibit unless it were specifically dance-related, but this one is really special! First of all, the tapestries themselves are truly magnificent and secondly it's unlikely that a show like this will be assembled again in a long while. I was unprepared for the sheer scale of these works (some of them must be at least 30 feet wide and 20 feet tall), their overwhelming visual impact (you cannot imagine how crammed with detail some of them are), and the technical perfection with which they were executed (it's hard to believe that they were WOVEN, not painted). Although their colors have faded and the metallic threads woven into them have tarnished, one can still get a sense of just how magnificent a display a room full of them must have made when they were new. What I hadn't realized before I attended the show was how highly valued tapestries were as an art form during the late middle ages and the renaissance. Owning them was a demonstration of wealth and power, and it appears that every self-respecting monarch (and Pope, apparently) was intent on commissioning a set from the most highly regarded artist of the day. (You had to have an entire set to hang around the throne room -- just one wouldn't do! They were fabulously expensive -- Henry VIII apparently spent as much on one tapestry as he did on a battleship. They also had the advantage of being portable, so they could be moved from palace to palace -- and of course they kept out drafts, which was very practical in a drafty castle.) What I also hadn't realized was that artists that are today famous primiarily for their paintings (e.g., Raphael and Bronzino) were renowned in their own time for their tapesty designs. The tapestries themselves were executed by workshops specializing in their production. I gather that tapestries are fragile (prone to the ravages of mildew, dust, sunlight, gravity and the like) and that relatively few have survived in good condition. In addition, many were burned in order to extract the precious metals woven into them. (This will break your heart when you see them.) It's a big show, so you may tire before the end. If youv'e you've got limited time, I recommend focussing on: 1. The first gallery, especially the huge tapestry depicting incidents from the Trojan war. 2. The second half of the second gallery, especially the tapestry depicting "The Mass of St. Gregory." 3. The huge tapestry in the third gallery from a series depicting the virtues of kings (in this case, "nobilitas," with a eclectic mix of figures from the Old Testament, Greek and Roman history and mythology, and European history). 4. The three tapestries by Raphael in the fourth gallery. 5. ALL of the tapestries by the greatest artist you've never heard of, Berneart van Orley (I may have mispelled his name) in the fifth gallery. 6. St Michael Overcoming Satan and Dragon Fighting with Panther in (I think) the seventh gallery -- note the fabulously worked detail in the lower right section of the former; the latter still retains some of the precious metal luster it must have had when new. 7. The throne baldechin (spelling?) in the last gallery. Because this piece wasn't used much, it is in near perfect condition and you can get some sense of how lustrous these works were when new. (As you can see, I've been more than once!) FYI, the MMA is open late (unitl 8:45) on Friday and Saturday evenings, so there's time to make a pre-performance visit (or to drop by after a matinee)! Spring for the audio guide rental, whihc you can also use elsewhere in the museum. Here's the web page for the exhibit: http://www.metmuseum.org/special/se_event....p?OccurrenceId={694886CD-280A-11D5-93F2-00902786BF44}

I can't figure out quite how to tie this thought to specific posts in the rest of the thread, so I'll just leap in ... In terms of its perception by various "publics" (the audience for "mass entertainment," the academic world, etc.) ballet may be encumbered by the very visibility of its "oppressions": the toe shoes, the thinness of its artists, its distortions of the human body, etc. are all right out in front for everyone to see and are part of its presentation. The "oppressions" inherent in other art forms may be less apparent: when was the last time you worried about the toxic materials many visual artists are literally up to their elbows in day in and day out? (My mother-in-law is an artist: I've seen what's in her studio and I can't figure out why she doesn't glow in the dark.) Wander the halls of any music conservatory, and you'll note in short order that every string student sports an angry looking red bruise under his or her left chin from 3+ hours a day of practice. When a famous rock guitarist was asked to give his advice to young aspirants, his comment was: "practice until your fingers bleed." (He might have added: "and wear earplugs on stage to ensure you're not hearing impaired by 30.") My point is, most (I would say all) art forms 1) require a considerable level of effort and discomfort on the part of their practitioners, 2) present a "distorted" (perhaps "heightened" would be a better term) version of human experience, and 3) rely extensively on conventions peculiar to the art form in question in order to do so. And I think that the depth of one's pleasure and appreciation depends on the extent of one's familiarity with (and comfort with) the conventions in addition to one's knowlege of the form's materials generally. (For example, many people who are knowlegeable about and enjoy classical music can't stand opera. In some cases this is because they just don't like the sound of a classically produced voice, which seems very "unnatural" to many people. In others it's because they aren't comfortable with opera's various conventions as a dramatic form -- e.g. its often overt and in some cases sensationalized emotionality. As a well-indoctrinated fan, I really don't "see" this latter convention "from the outside" so to speak -- but my husband does and it drives him nuts. But I digress ...) I think that the conventions of ballet can be a barrier to its appreciation and make it easy to dismiss by someone whose appreciation of other art forms is quite sophisticated. The plot of a story ballet is really just an armature to support an expression of some facet of human existence via the materials of ballet as an art form -- but if one isn't familiar with ballet's conventions or materials, one might be inclined to think that a response to the story in and of itself was the point of the evening (as it is in a play, for instance) and one would be justifiably disappointed at the end of a long evening of swans in tutus and von Rothbart waving his cape. Even when distilled into a "plotless" ballet, some of these conventions can still be baffling: at the end of Ballo della Regina, a friend I'd dragged along turned to me and said "was that a coronation or a wedding?" I suggested that it was the celebration of a magnificent woman, but that didn't seem to help her sort things out. Her comment at the end of Opus 19 / The Dreamer was "well, I guess they ended up together after all." As an art form, ballet was simply opaque to her at an emotional level, if not formally (she picked up many of the formal characteristics right away, but didn't know what to make of them: "do they always try to look so light? Why?" she asked. It was a good question and I didn't really have an answer.) I also think that the "serious" version of all art forms just isn't that easy to get into because it does take time and effort to master its conventions and to learn how to appreciate its subtleties. (Even a popular form like rock has a serious version with a tiny audience -- as any devotee of the Obscure Alternative Band You've Never Heard Of But Really Should Know Because They Are Taking The Guitar Anthem As Far As It Will Go And Subverting It At The Same Time And Besides They Can Really Play Not Like That Swill on K-Rock will tell you. And it will usually take at least three beers for them to get to the end of the lecture.) Anyone familiar with the prices of tickets to sporting events or pop concerts knows that mere expensiveness isn't necessarily a barrier to entry. Enough! I don't think I even came close to addressing the central topic of the thread, so I think I better stop. And besides, I have to go practice now ;-) ... (For the record, I can't sit through either "The Merchant of Venice" or "The Taming of the Shrew" without gritting my teeth and clenching my fists; my traversal of "Paradise Lost" was frequently interrupted by a savage hurl of the book to the other end of the room out of sheer irritation. "Incoming!' my roomate would bellow.)

I can't figure out quite how to tie this thought to specific posts in the rest of the thread, so I'll just leap in ... In terms of its perception by various "publics" (the audience for "mass entertainment," the academic world, etc.) ballet may be encumbered by the very visibility of its "oppressions": the toe shoes, the thinness of its artists, its distortions of the human body, etc. are all right out in front for everyone to see and are part of its presentation. The "oppressions" inherent in other art forms may be less apparent: when was the last time you worried about the toxic materials many visual artists are literally up to their elbows in day in and day out? (My mother-in-law is an artist: I've seen what's in her studio and I can't figure out why she doesn't glow in the dark.) Wander the halls of any music conservatory, and you'll note in short order that every string student sports an angry looking red bruise under his or her left chin from 3+ hours a day of practice. When a famous rock guitarist was asked to give his advice to young aspirants, his comment was: "practice until your fingers bleed." (He might have added: "and wear earplugs on stage to ensure you're not hearing impaired by 30.") My point is, most (I would say all) art forms 1) require a considerable level of effort and discomfort on the part of their practitioners, 2) present a "distorted" (perhaps "heightened" would be a better term) version of human experience, and 3) rely extensively on conventions peculiar to the art form in question in order to do so. And I think that the depth of one's pleasure and appreciation depends on the extent of one's familiarity with (and comfort with) the conventions in addition to one's knowlege of the form's materials generally. (For example, many people who are knowlegeable about and enjoy classical music can't stand opera. In some cases this is because they just don't like the sound of a classically produced voice, which seems very "unnatural" to many people. In others it's because they aren't comfortable with opera's various conventions as a dramatic form -- e.g. its often overt and in some cases sensationalized emotionality. As a well-indoctrinated fan, I really don't "see" this latter convention "from the outside" so to speak -- but my husband does and it drives him nuts. But I digress ...) I think that the conventions of ballet can be a barrier to its appreciation and make it easy to dismiss by someone whose appreciation of other art forms is quite sophisticated. The plot of a story ballet is really just an armature to support an expression of some facet of human existence via the materials of ballet as an art form -- but if one isn't familiar with ballet's conventions or materials, one might be inclined to think that a response to the story in and of itself was the point of the evening (as it is in a play, for instance) and one would be justifiably disappointed at the end of a long evening of swans in tutus and von Rothbart waving his cape. Even when distilled into a "plotless" ballet, some of these conventions can still be baffling: at the end of Ballo della Regina, a friend I'd dragged along turned to me and said "was that a coronation or a wedding?" I suggested that it was the celebration of a magnificent woman, but that didn't seem to help her sort things out. Her comment at the end of Opus 19 / The Dreamer was "well, I guess they ended up together after all." As an art form, ballet was simply opaque to her at an emotional level, if not formally (she picked up many of the formal characteristics right away, but didn't know what to make of them: "do they always try to look so light? Why?" she asked. It was a good question and I didn't really have an answer.) I also think that the "serious" version of all art forms just isn't that easy to get into because it does take time and effort to master its conventions and to learn how to appreciate its subtleties. (Even a popular form like rock has a serious version with a tiny audience -- as any devotee of the Obscure Alternative Band You've Never Heard Of But Really Should Know Because They Are Taking The Guitar Anthem As Far As It Will Go And Subverting It At The Same Time And Besides They Can Really Play Not Like That Swill on K-Rock will tell you. And it will usually take at least three beers for them to get to the end of the lecture.) Anyone familiar with the prices of tickets to sporting events or pop concerts knows that mere expensiveness isn't necessarily a barrier to entry. Enough! I don't think I even came close to addressing the central topic of the thread, so I think I better stop. And besides, I have to go practice now ;-) ... (For the record, I can't sit through either "The Merchant of Venice" or "The Taming of the Shrew" without gritting my teeth and clenching my fists; my traversal of "Paradise Lost" was frequently interrupted by a savage hurl of the book to the other end of the room out of sheer irritation. "Incoming!' my roomate would bellow.)

I go to the SAB workshop every year and thoroughly enjoy myself every time. Am I critical? Probably a little -- I do keep my eye out for dancers I hope to see more of in the future. However, I am always stunned at just how terrific everyone dancing in the workshop really is and how polished the performances are!

I think Ansanelli definitely fell. From my vantage point (Seat C5 in the first ring) it looked as if she got tangled up in the wing drop (sorry -- I don't know the technical term) while executing a turning exit, and took a tumble. I thought she looked a bit (just a bit) rattled afterwards. While there were some things I really liked about her performance, I wasn't as wholeheartedly enthusiastic about it as some of the other posters have been. On the plus side, I found her wonderfully musical, thought her demeanor was sweet and absolutely charming (and just right for this ballet), and liked her overall "lightness of touch" (i.e., her not feeling compelled to punch out every bravura passage as if the audience were comprised of Olympic judges holding up scorecards) even though she can clearly do the steps. However, I'd like to see her step up the crispness of her attack just a bit: sometimes it seems to me as if she's being blown around by a big fan in the wings and is not herself generating her movement. Now sometimes this is a lovely effect, but often it seems to me to drain some of the impact out of her dancing. I think a crisper attack might also have improved her already good performance in Stravinsky Violin Concerto. Because she has a slight (though long-limbed) build, I think she (and her dancing) can appear rather small-scaled, wispy, and even bland at times, especially when the choreography doesn't require her to travel much. I'm not suggesting that she should etch every move in acid, though -- that would be going too far and would undercut that delightful "lightness of touch" I mentioned above! In any event, I do really enjoy watching her dance -- I think she has a lovely presence and a unique style all her own (I can't think of another dancer on the roster who's quite like her). As for who will take up the glamour baton now that Alexopoulos is gone: I too had I hopes for the sorely missed (by me at least) Riolama Lorenzo. If her overall demeanor weren't quite so sunny and gracious, I'd nominate Eva Natanya. Sometimes I think she's what you'd get if you hybridized Stephanie Saland and Lourdes Lopez ...

I agree that the WSJ is clearly trying to position itself as more than your dad's source for stock quotes. (Which it must do since no one really relies on newspapers for market quotes or even up-to-the-minute business news anymore. That's what Bloomberg and the internet are for.) I'm a news junkie, so it's difficult for me to imagine the WSJ becoming my "primary read" since it doesn't really cover non-business news. I'm probably somewhat unusual in that I'd continue to buy both the NYT and the WSJ even if they reverted to their old black and white formats of a decade ago -- and dropped arts coverage altogether. Although ... I've noticed that I've begun to do most of my newpaper reading online. My "primary read' is probably the top dozen or so bookmarks in my "favorites" section that I cycle through while I eat breakfast in my office. I *used* to eat breakfast at home to read the paper version of the NYT. (It's amazing what access to a T-1 cable will induce one to do ...). But I'm drifting off topic again! In any event, I'm definitely on the "let's not panic" end of the spectrum. In many ways, the arts continue to flourish and I think the internet is fostering a new kind of vibrant arts community -- just look at this board. I probably would never have met any of you personally "offline," but I have an opportunity now to paricipate in an ongoing conversation about a cherished art! I don't even bother with the NYT's dance reviews anymore, since I know I have access to much better coverage here! I attend 2+ performances of various types per week, and all are usually playing to capacity or near capacity crowds. It doesn't look like the arts are dying to me. And yes indeed, I did misspell "minuscule." (And I'd be shocked if that were the only word I'd misspelled. This is what happens when one gets used to automatic spell-checking!)

I agree that the WSJ is clearly trying to position itself as more than your dad's source for stock quotes. (Which it must do since no one really relies on newspapers for market quotes or even up-to-the-minute business news anymore. That's what Bloomberg and the internet are for.) I'm a news junkie, so it's difficult for me to imagine the WSJ becoming my "primary read" since it doesn't really cover non-business news. I'm probably somewhat unusual in that I'd continue to buy both the NYT and the WSJ even if they reverted to their old black and white formats of a decade ago -- and dropped arts coverage altogether. Although ... I've noticed that I've begun to do most of my newpaper reading online. My "primary read' is probably the top dozen or so bookmarks in my "favorites" section that I cycle through while I eat breakfast in my office. I *used* to eat breakfast at home to read the paper version of the NYT. (It's amazing what access to a T-1 cable will induce one to do ...). But I'm drifting off topic again! In any event, I'm definitely on the "let's not panic" end of the spectrum. In many ways, the arts continue to flourish and I think the internet is fostering a new kind of vibrant arts community -- just look at this board. I probably would never have met any of you personally "offline," but I have an opportunity now to paricipate in an ongoing conversation about a cherished art! I don't even bother with the NYT's dance reviews anymore, since I know I have access to much better coverage here! I attend 2+ performances of various types per week, and all are usually playing to capacity or near capacity crowds. It doesn't look like the arts are dying to me. And yes indeed, I did misspell "minuscule." (And I'd be shocked if that were the only word I'd misspelled. This is what happens when one gets used to automatic spell-checking!)

Re the WSJ's attempt to broaden its readership: I really know nothing about their strategy in this regard. I do know that they will soon unveil a redesigned front page and a daily "Personal Journal" section which, per the WSJ, "aims to help consumers make decisions important to their pocketbooks and personal lives" -- and this latter certainly seems like an attempt to appeal to a broader base (as I assume the Friday "Weekend Journal" section is), though the focus is still primarily economic / business related. (The "Weekend Journal" section strikes me as very much about how to spend one's money.) The daily arts coverage has been there for a while now, so I don't think it's necessarily a new tactic to broaden the base. However, it's certainly encouraging if it's been done because the folks running the paper believe it will increase readership! I guess I find the arts coverage puzzling since the WSJ's focus is primarily on economic affairs and the business community; its coverage of non-business events and issues is generally from the perspective of the impact they may have on the business community (or consumers' pocketbooks) and one's professional life (e.g., the personal techonology articles or work/life balance columns) -- and the arts / leisure coverage doesn't quite fit into that paradigm. I'd be interested to know what percentage of its readership wan't primarily interested in its business coverage as professionals, but rather, read it for personal investment guidance or some other reason. But now I'm getting off topic! Bottom line: it has to be a positive that a newspaper primarily focussed on business and the business community covers the arts.

Re the WSJ's attempt to broaden its readership: I really know nothing about their strategy in this regard. I do know that they will soon unveil a redesigned front page and a daily "Personal Journal" section which, per the WSJ, "aims to help consumers make decisions important to their pocketbooks and personal lives" -- and this latter certainly seems like an attempt to appeal to a broader base (as I assume the Friday "Weekend Journal" section is), though the focus is still primarily economic / business related. (The "Weekend Journal" section strikes me as very much about how to spend one's money.) The daily arts coverage has been there for a while now, so I don't think it's necessarily a new tactic to broaden the base. However, it's certainly encouraging if it's been done because the folks running the paper believe it will increase readership! I guess I find the arts coverage puzzling since the WSJ's focus is primarily on economic affairs and the business community; its coverage of non-business events and issues is generally from the perspective of the impact they may have on the business community (or consumers' pocketbooks) and one's professional life (e.g., the personal techonology articles or work/life balance columns) -- and the arts / leisure coverage doesn't quite fit into that paradigm. I'd be interested to know what percentage of its readership wan't primarily interested in its business coverage as professionals, but rather, read it for personal investment guidance or some other reason. But now I'm getting off topic! Bottom line: it has to be a positive that a newspaper primarily focussed on business and the business community covers the arts.

Interestingly enough, the daily newspaper I rely on for good arts reporting and reviwing is ... The Wall Street Journal! Whoever edits the "Leisure & Arts" page clearly has a commitment to "the arts" as well as to entertainment and liesure generally. I'm always amazed at the number of column inches devoted to genres with relatively limited audiences -- e.g., an extensive piece that covered Christa Ludwig's series master classes for young lieder singers at Carnegie last year. (Today's edition contains Heidi Walseson's review of several operas performed recently in NYC and an piece by Sheila Melvin about a ballet based on "Raise the Red Lantern" performed by the National Ballet of China in China -- i.e., it's not even a "local" story.) The peices are almost always thoughtful, insightful, and engaging and the dance writing is, in my opinion, much better than anything cranked out by The NYT. What's interesting to me is that the percentage of the WSJ readership that buys the paper BECAUSE of its arts coverage is undoubtedly miniscule -- I can't imagine that the commitment to regular, high quality arts reporting arises from the belief that it will materially increase circulation. Nor can I imagine that cutting such coverage would make even a tiny dent in circulation. (I'd still buy it, for instance, since I read it for professional reasons.) In short, I don't know why the WSJ has arts reporting at all, much less good arts reporting, but I'm glad it does!

Interestingly enough, the daily newspaper I rely on for good arts reporting and reviwing is ... The Wall Street Journal! Whoever edits the "Leisure & Arts" page clearly has a commitment to "the arts" as well as to entertainment and liesure generally. I'm always amazed at the number of column inches devoted to genres with relatively limited audiences -- e.g., an extensive piece that covered Christa Ludwig's series master classes for young lieder singers at Carnegie last year. (Today's edition contains Heidi Walseson's review of several operas performed recently in NYC and an piece by Sheila Melvin about a ballet based on "Raise the Red Lantern" performed by the National Ballet of China in China -- i.e., it's not even a "local" story.) The peices are almost always thoughtful, insightful, and engaging and the dance writing is, in my opinion, much better than anything cranked out by The NYT. What's interesting to me is that the percentage of the WSJ readership that buys the paper BECAUSE of its arts coverage is undoubtedly miniscule -- I can't imagine that the commitment to regular, high quality arts reporting arises from the belief that it will materially increase circulation. Nor can I imagine that cutting such coverage would make even a tiny dent in circulation. (I'd still buy it, for instance, since I read it for professional reasons.) In short, I don't know why the WSJ has arts reporting at all, much less good arts reporting, but I'm glad it does!

Personally, I wouldn't want Goldberg cut because I think the music itself is an integral whole and shouldn't be fragmented. I'll cheerfully sit through a few tedious bits of ballet to get Bach's work whole. Admittedly, Bach wrote the Goldberg variations for the private consumption of his patron, and not to be heard in a concert setting. Nonetheless, I think it has an overall structural integrity that I for one would be loathe to undermine -- e.g., the methodical placement and construction of the canons. I'd put it on the "all or nothing" category -- either you're willing to do the whole thing or you pick different music. It's not as if there's a shortage of good, danceable music out there. One of the (many) things I dislike about Robbins' Brandenberg is the way the various Brandenberg Concertos got broken up and re-assembled. Baroque concertos do have a clearly defined structure, even though we might be immune to the charms of that structure today. Obviously, one shouldn't take an all or nothing approach and assume that ALL music is inviolable and can't be tinkered with for the purposes of creating an effective ballet. Some works suffer less (or not at all or are even improved) when re-assembled. (Ahem, but not Serenade, IMO.) But there are some that can't be tinkered with, and I'd put Goldberg in that category. As to Dances at a Gathering: I always like Arlene Croce's assessment, which was that she'd like to see it cut by 15 minutes but not the same 15 minutes every time.

In certain corners of Corporate America (where I spend my days, and alas, some of my evenings, weekends, and holidays), "The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People" has a big following. (Since I could never remember more than two of the seven habits at any given time, and can't seem get rid of the seven-squared bad ones that I already have, I've remained a model of one of those Highly Ineffective people whose life is organized -- I use the term loosely -- by a plethora of yellow post-it notes stuck on every available surface ...) So, perhaps it's time for a sequel to Balanchine's Four Temperaments called The Seven Habits. There would of course have to be a variation for each habit: Be Proactive Begin with the End in Mind Put First Things First Think Win-Win Seek First to Understand, Then to Be Understood Synergize Sharpen the Saw Perhaps a different Diamond Project choreographer could be assigned to each habit. As for music, hmmm? -- do we use other of Hindemith's works, commision something new, or let the choreographers choose? Since the New York Times now has a best-seller list for self-improvement books, perhaps it's time for a whole self-improvement triple-bill consisting of "The Seven Habits," "Chicken Soup for the Soul", and "Who Moved My Cheese" (I don't know what this could be the sequel to, but I say we give it to Mark Morris, whom one could imagine actually having fun with it). I think Martins, Forsythe, and Kylian have already done their versions of "Men are from Mars; Women are from Venus." Indeed, I think Martins has done many, many versions ... Alternatively, the Fairies in Sleeping Beauty could bestow the Seven Habits (e.g., we could replace the Fairy of Generosity with the Fairy of Synergy, say, or the Win-Win Fairy). There would be some rights issues of course -- the copyright on Melancholic, Phelgmatic, Sanguinic, and Choleric had long expired by the time Balanchine commissioned the score ...