atm711

Balanchine: Apollo, Concerto Barocco, Danses Concertantes (but only with the original Berman costumes) Theme and Variations, Agon. Robbins: Dances at a Gathering, Afternoon of a Faun Fokine: Les Sylphides, Le Carnaval Ashton: Facade, Les Patineurs, The Dream and all those Swan Lakes, Sleeping Beauties, and Giselles out there by Lord only knows what choreographer.

A strange coincidence...this ballet has been on my mind this week. In looking over the upcoming spring season of BT at the Met, I can't help thinking that they should cut down on all the PDD to fill up a program and bring back some of their gems, particularly this ballet and "Tally-Ho". Maybe something is afoot---we did get "3 Virgins and a Devil" last year. I saw "Dark Elegies" years ago with Kaye, Tudor and Laing and I can still bring up the emotions I felt then upon seeing it.

Jean Babilee is my favorite Bluebird---he literally flew in those brise voles. I loved Alonso's "Florine", she was like no other I ever saw dance the role--she was every inch the Classical ballerina, with no signs of the cutsiness that most dancers infuse the role.

Fortunately, for me, I saw much of Ananiashvilli last season and I have already decided to concentrate on Vishneva and Part this season. I recall some talk a while ago that she was contemplating having a family---did this ever come to pass?

Among other things---Rockwell is no gentleman.

I would also add Massine's name to that. I saw Shearer's 'Cinderella' those many years ago and found her thoroughly appealing. In comparing her performance to Fonteyn's one critic found her 'brittle' and Clement Crisp said "Fonteyn instilled poignancy into the dance.......it was her eyes" (really, I wonder where he was sitting to see such detail)--but I expect that look in her eyes was better than..."The Act 1 solo with the broom...is a choreographic poem to Shearer's famously eloquent feet....."

The very least WNYC can do is schedule Leigh and Alexandra on another program. As a subscriber to the Station I will voice my complaint.

I agreed with the Article--it was a wonderful tribute to ballet in the 40's. There was one comment Kaufman made that I found puzzling. In writing of McKerrow's performance of Pillar of Fire (with Washington Ballet) she said that she was "a profoundly MUSICAL Hagar". It seems to me it should be the last attribute mentioned in reviewing any performance of Hagar.

"Well, where to begin?" While Diaghilev was 'struggling to remain aucourant' he did not resort to Duncan, Loie Fuller or St. Denis---no, he stayed with choreographers trained in ballet technique. You have characterized ballet lovers as striving to cut off any innovation, which is nonsense.---and I still think that Wagner is a second rate composer

In looking over the Spring brochure, I see that three of the 'Sylvia's" are listed TBA. I would like to order my t ickets for the season this week, but I am just wondering if there is any inkling our there on who else might be dancing 'Sylvia":---so far, I am with Murphy.

Ouch It hurts --but I will never know how you did it with your teaching load, and writing a book. Our love to you and I am already looking forward to your first post.

Aha---shades of John Martin

I recall that third photo you mentioned, rg, where Markova seems to have no arms. It is a wonderful photo--is it one of Maurice Seymour's? And I also remember Mark Platt, sometimes known as Marc Platoff, and it is nice to hear that he is doing well.

I have an anniversary, of sorts, coming up this month. It will be 60 years since I saw my first ballet performance on Saturday evening April 22, 1944. Accompanied by my sister and her friends we went to the Metropolitan Opera House in New York City to see Ballet Theatre. Our seats were in the first row of the balcony around the curve of the horseshoe shape of the theater ---and 4 levels up. I had a fairly good view of the stage by leaning over the brass railing. The program was Fokine's "Les Sylphides", Robbins "Fancy Free" and Lichine's "Fair At Sorochinsk". To this day, I feel the only way to truly appreciate Fokine's masterpiece is to see it from this perspective. Normally, one likes to sit up close when viewing a ballet, but in this case the distant vantage point had a distinct advantage: it made it easier to see the movements envisioned by the choreographer. Alicia Markova and Anton Dolin danced the leads. This was followed by "Fancy Free" (with Leonard Bernstein conducting---my schoolgirl crush at the time.) The ballet had its premiere a few days before on April 18; this was probably the second or third performance of the work. It received a raucous reception, and the old opera house erupted in waves of enthusiasm. Robbins masterfully captured the personalities of his original cast to perfection. Robbins was the 'rhumba' sailor, John Kriza the 'dreamy one' and Harold Lang, the 'show-off'. The pas de deux that Robbins danced with Janet Reed was in the best tradition of the Hollywood WorldWar II romance movies at the time---casual relationships could quickly become immediate. Muriel Bentley was deliciously insoucient as the 'girl with the red pocketbook'. At the end Shirley Eckl slithered hesitatingly on to the stage, and Rex Cooper was properly bored as the bartender. The last ballet was David Lichine's "Fair At Sorochinsk" to music of Moussorgsky---a colorful work that has probably not been seen since. Anton Dolin appeared as the Devil and danced the role 'on pointe' and Andre Eglevsky was most appealing as the lover. I always thought he was shown to best advantage during his Ballet Theatre days. A Hopak was a high point of the work, but I cannot recall who danced it, although in retrospect it might have been Nicholas Orloff. Before this performance my other encounters with ballet had been mainly in operettas, i.e., "The Chocolate Soldier", "New Moon" and the Warner Bros films of the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo in "Capriccio Espagnol" and "Gaite Parisienne". The year before I saw Agnes deMille's "Oklahoma". But this first encounter with a ballet company had a profound effect on me, unlike the other performances I saw. I went on to study ballet for seven years and although I was in my teens, I had a natural flexibility which eased my way. Ever since that first performance so many years ago, ballet has been a big part of my life.

Testing---1--2--3 Here goes--I don't know where this will turn up! There are many times when I start ruminating about all things related to ballet, and I guess it would be fun to see those thoughts in print. As I sit here writing this I have on my wall a 5x7 photo of Tamara Toumanova (Fred Fehl) taken many years ago at an outdoor arena in New York City (the Bronx) called Lewisohn Stadium--which was set up to look like a Greek theatre. Toumanova is in white practice clothes and not wearing makeup, and she never looked more beautiful. I have never seen this photo reproduced in any book. I would guess this photo is from the early 40's. Someday I will get a scanner, I would like to share it with others. She is lening against a white pillar in what I have seen described as 6th position (the w eight is on one foot, and the other leg is crossed at the ankle, in front). She is wearing a short simple practice tutu and a white short sleeved sweater knotted at her upper waist swhich reveals her lower waist. This is the only photo of a dancer that I have showing in my home, and I sometimes cannot understand why! I enjoyed seeing her perform, but she is not at the top of my list of favorites. At one time I made an oil painting of this photo (which I still have buried in a closet), but my skills were not too good at the time and I had problems with the face, although I was satisfied with the rest of the anatomy. This is the photograph of Tamara Toumanova that I wrote about in my first blog. It's my favorite photo of her, taken by Fred Fehl at Lewisohn Stadium in New York in the early 1940's This is a photograph of Tatiana Riabouchinska in one of her most famous roles--performing the Prelude in "Les Sylphides". It was taken during a performance at the old "Met" Opera House in New York during Ballet Theatre's 1945 season. It beautifully captures the dreaminess of her interpretation. This is a photograph of Alexandra Danilova and Nicholas Magallanes taken during a performance of the Denham Ballet Russe at the "City Center" in New York---about 1946. I am almost certain that it is from "Raymonda".

My current favorite Swan Queens have come from the ranks of American Ballet Theatre, the Bolshoi and the Kirov and not from the New York City Ballet. Recently a poster on Ballet Alert enthusiastically wrote about Miranda Weese and I thought it was time for me to go back for another look at my video tape of Ms. Weese in the Peter Martins production. Martins has presented the ballet with one intermission; Acts 1 and 2 and then Acts 3 and 4--no criticism on this. However in Act 1 there is an excessive use of the Jester to the detriment of the Prince, he (the Prince) sits in a chair for most of the Act. True, he is there to be entertained by the Courtiers, but he is too disengaged. The very least the Choreographer could have done for his Principal Dancer is to give him a solo at the end of the Act much as Rudolph Nureyev did in his version. It was a beautiful, lyric, melancholy solo which reflected the Prince's state of mind and set the tone for Act 2; and it also gave the "star" dancer "something to do". Miranda Weese is a dancer with lovely shapely legs and a strong trechnique. She was a high-strung Swan Queen with few moments of serenity, which made for a gripping performance. My reservation is with her port de bras. The upper arms and shoulders were mostly stationary; she interrupted the flow of her line by 'breaking' her wrists and fanning the air with her splayed fingers. This was constant; she NEVER stopped fluttering her hands---in all three acts; her hands appeared to have a life of their own. Could this be a style encouraged by the New York City Ballet? The sets were too cold and icelandic. (I missed the German forest.) The Act 1 backdrop could have been an abandoned fort instead of a castle, and the later set was reminiscent of a monastery. I found Martins ending to be very poignant;--Odette was doomed to be a Swan forever and the Prince (who did not die, or go through a c

Alicia Alonso: The Prime Years Alicia Alonso had a diverse range as a ballerina. She excelled in romantic, classical and contemporary works, and she was equally accomplished in performing Coralli, Petipa, Balanchine, Tudor or deMille. In this respect she outrivaled most of the ballerinas of her generation. When I ponder her technique, it is not the bravura that comes to mind, although it was profuse. Alonso was known for her rock-solid balances, dazzling footwork and fast, light floor skimming bourrees. It is her careful attention to detail, the small transition steps that were clearly delineated and a turnout that was worthy of a technique book illustration. She did not 'fudge' steps; the choreographer's intent was clear. All this was accomplished with a clarity of style: her Odette, Odile, Aurora or Princess Florine bore no affinity with Giselle, Pas de Quatre or Les Sylphides. Although renowned for her Romantic Classicism, she was a supreme classical ballerina. There were no airs, no pretensions---just a beautiful adherence to a pure Style. She had a noble carriage of the head and she approached these roles with a mature bearing and a hard, diamond-like brilliance. Her arabesque was particularly striking in its fulfillment of this Style. In these classical roles she had a stately, calm extereior coupled with the sheer pleasure of dancing. This joy in dancing was in evidence from the very beginning of her career as a 'corps' member with Ballet Theatre. She said: I remember the old corps de ballet of Ballet Theatre---Nora (Kaye; Marusia (Maria Karnilova); Muriel (Bentley); Donald (Saddler); David (Nillo); Michael (Kidd)---we were so good and were so proud of being Ballet Theatre dancers...we were not just 'hired' dancers in a company, we 'were' the Company. We were Ballet Theatre." The epitome of her classical dancing was Balanchine's "Theme and Variations" which he created for her and Igor Youskevitch in 1947. In his book "Complete Stories of the Great Ballets" Balanchine wrote the following about the pas de deux: "A solo sounds the melody, and a pas de deux begins... the dancing is noble and tender. To this theme of open joy and romance the Ballerina, supported by her partner, executes slowly and perfectly movements...that display her full beauty." It was precisely this joy and romance that permeated the partnership of Alonso and Youskevitch. People who saw them together thought they were in love, so compatible was their partnership which had a sensuous undertone. While they were not romantically involved off-stage, their performance shows something extra not easily found when performers are of different sexual orientation. Youskevitch said of their partnership: "When we dance, we'd flow together" ---"We felt pretty together. It was the best partnership I ever shared. We felt we were important". He went on to say: "Her feet were not just doing a required step, they were expressions on their own." Anton Dolin, commenting on Alonso's first Giselle (as a replacement for the ailing Alicia Markova) said: "I have always thought of Alicia as a coming Giselle, ever since I gave her an audition for Ballet Theatre... I found that extraordinary intensity and that almost eerie insight into every little detail". Dolin also choreographed Cerrito for her in "Pas de Quatre", although later she would dance Taglioni. Alonso and Youskevitch were the definitive "Giselle" of their generation; they performed the ballet for eleven years. In Act I there was a sweet flirtation between them, and his ardor appeared genuine. Her Giselle of Act I had a girlish innocense about first love. In her own words of the mad scene she said: "She comes out of the mad scene and faces the truth. She sees Albrecht, she looks at him and she forgives him. She says 'I forgive you'". In Act II Albrecht obtained absolution from Giselle for his wrongdoing. Interestingly, Alonso had said that she looks upon Act II as Albrecht's. Youskevitch saw it as a feat of Albrecht's imagination. They also added an innovative detail to the "lillies scene". While performing Grand Jetes, Alonso threw the lillies backward over her head and Youskevitch caught them in mid-air while he was doing his own Grand Jetes. It was exhilarating to see and never looked like a mere technical trick in the hands of these two artists. As to the critics, Walter Terry found a "Latin passion" and a "peasant lustiness" in Alonso's Act I--- two qualities I never saw. Passion? Lustiness? No. A sweet yearning for one she loves? Yes. In writing of Alonso's performance in 1946 Edwin Denby said--"Alonso bows 'in character' (Act II) are unfortunate". I find this puzzling coming from Denby. It is true, she did hold on to the character and mood while taking a bow; people who saw her performance from the wings said she always remained in character and mood even when she was out of the public view. It was a small detail in the beauty of her Act II. It took John Martin (New York Times) ten years to finally admit Alonso was a great "Giselle". I still have the original review of April 15, 1955. In it he said: "Miss Alonso had long been a first-rate "Giselle", but with the passing of seasons she had deepened the colors of the role, broadened its range, and found justifications for all its bursts of bravura. It is not too much to say, indeed, that on this occasion she proved herself a great Giselle". Youskevitch also received high praise, as did Lupe Serrano as Myrtha. In her book "Portrait Gallery" Agnes deMille wrote of their last appearance together on the occasion of Youskevitch's retirement at the University of Texas in 1982. "At the end of the program (Walter) Terry announced there would be a surprise. The whole proscenium of the theater was filled with a giant movie screen on which was projected a home film that Tina, Igor's wife, had shot of "Giselle" at the Hollywood Bowl in 1945 with Igor and Alicia doing the pas de deux from the second act. It was a silent film, and the orchestra accompanied it softly in the background....the image was frozen on the screen and the lights came up slowly on Alicia and Igor standing in the identical pose in the same costumes....you could hear an enormous gasp as 4,000 people caught their breath simultlaneously....as Igor led Alicia forward for bows (she) clung to his hand....then she stepped back and apart from him and made a royal obeisance to the floor, laying her head in the dust at his feet. There followed absolute silence (which) was shattered and pandemonium broke as Igor gathered her up'" Alonso's varied repertoire included Apollo (Terpsichore); Lilac Garden (Epoisode in his past); Gala Performance (Italian Ballerina); Fall River Legend (Lizzie Borden); and Undertow (Ate). Gala Performance revealed her delicious wry sense of humor. Her poor hapless Cavalier was none other than Himself, Antony Tudor. In Fall River Legend her Lizzie Borden was distinct from Nora Kaye's. With Kaye's Lizzie, there was a definite paranoia and she more than likely committed the deadly act; Alonso was a sympathetic Lizzie who appeared to be a victim of her parents. Both interpretations were valid. Her performance in Undertow as Ate (who was a Greek Goddess of amorality) was riveting. She looked like an angel in her short, softly flowing dress, but this was quickly dispelled. Judith Chazin-Bennahum said of the performance: "When Ate re-enters alone the Transgressor accosts her. One of the most moving episodes in the original production centered on Alicia Alonso's predatory, insalubrious characterization of Ate, especially the moment when she is almost choked by the Transgressor but manages to get away." Alonso said of Tudor: "I was lucky to work with him. He had a marvelous sense of theater; Agnes deMille was a strong influence on me, but I think my work with Tudor was more important. I was impressed with the way he approached a ballet, how he studied every detail. He taught me--- and Agnes did, too, later, to use my whole body to express emotion, mood, the drama of the moment. My Latin emotions had been centered on my face... I have written about Alonso in her prime---my memories still vivid after so many years. Because she danced well into her advanced years, there are many films of her later work. I have generally tried to avoid them, especially the Cuban "Giselles". Much of her artistry is still evident in these films and I do feel it is a good thing for people who did not see her in her prime to still grasp something of what made her so great. November 25, 2003

Before there were glossy brochures for upcoming ballet seasons there were 'snakes'. They were long sheets of plain white paper approximately 5"X18" on which was printed, in two long columns, the programs for the coming season. They hung on a hook in the theatre lobby. I still have the original 'snake' of the Sadler's Wells Ballet first American tour in 1949 in New York City at the 'old' Metropolitan Opera House. It is somewhat smaller than the usual 'snakes'---5"X12", and as befits such a fine occasion, it has a gold background with black lettering. "First Time In America!" boasts the headline. "Introducing the World Celebrated Dancers"----Margot Fonteyn, Robert Helpmann, Moira Shearer, Pamela May, Beryl Grey, Violetta Ellvin, Alexis Rassine, Harold Turner, Michael Somes, John Hart. Robert Irving and Constant Lambert were the Conductors. Violetta Elvin was a former Soviet dancer named Prokhorova; she was married to an Englishman, hence the name change. (She was the first Soviet dancer I ever saw.) Prophetically, in her book "Soviet Ballet", pub. 1945, Iris Morley said of her: "My favorite has always been Prokhorova who is taller than most and brings a lovely long-limbed pliancy to the swans, brides and willis. Sometime in pure wish fulfillment I envisage a kind of Anglo-Russian lease-lend (her term) whereby some of these younger dancers might dance for a season in English companies where they would be instantly hailed as Prima Ballerinas." The season ran from October 9 to November 6. The price range was $1.20 for Family Circle to $4.20 for Orchestra or Box Seats. By purchasing a Balcony ticket ($1.80) one could enter the Opera House at the Orchestra Level and use the ticket for standing room. (The Family Circle had a special entrance and a terrible maze to encounter to go down to a lower floor.) Standing room was excellent at this old opera house. The horseshoe arrangement of the seats made it possible to have an excellent side view which brought you closer to the stage; unlike the present "Met" where standing room is in the back of the Orchestra behind the last row of seats. On the reverse side of the 'snake' is a listing of the complete programs. There were thirty-three performances: 10 of "Sleeping Beauty", 5 of "Swan Lake" (or, as listed, "Le Lac des Cygnes") and 6 "Cinderellas". "Swan Lake" was presented in four acts and was followed on the program by either "Facade" or "Hamlet". (Amazing, compare that to today's truncated versions---and another ballet, too.) There were ten mixed programs of shorter works. On one evening (October 13) there were four American premieres: "The Rake's Progress", "Symphonic Variations", "Facade", and "Hamlet". On October 25 there were three more American Premieres: "Miracle in the Gorbals", "A Wedding Bouquet" and "Apparitions". These were followed with premieres of "Checkmate" and "Job". In all, Sadler's Wells premiered twelve ballets. At the bottom of the sheet there is a small mail order blank. There is only room for ordering tickets to two performances. I attended half of them. At the time I saw the Sadler's Wells I had been a ballet-goer for five and a half years. This season, combined with performances of Ballet Theatre, Ballet Russe and the beginnings of New York City Ballet was the best introduction imaginable. They were the "glory years". October 26, 2003

When I began to learn about ballet, the period that held the most interest for me were the Diaghilev years. There was a vast amount of his ballets still being performed in the 1940's and 50's. During my first few years of attending performances I saw 'Prince Igor', 'Les Sylphides', 'Carnaval', 'Scheherazade', 'Firebird', Spectre de la Rose', 'Petrouchka', 'Afternoon of a Faun', 'Le Tricorne', 'Apollo', and 'Prodigal Son'. Later I would see 'Les Noces', 'Parade', and 'Rite of Spring'. It is no wonder that I immersed myself in those remarkable twenty years, and the few years preceding it in Russia. The first books I read were the Haskell/Nouvel and Lifar biographies and Alexandre Benois' 'Reminiscences of the Russian Ballet'. My favorite source was the New York Public Library's "Music Library" located on East 58 Street and Lexington Avenue in Manhattan; this was many years before the Performing Arts Library at Lincoln Center was built. There was also a dance collection at the Main Branch of the Library on Fifth Avenue and 42 Street, but it always seemed like a hassle to request an item. The Music Library was more accessible and cosier; there were mahogany bookcases with glass doors that had to be opened with a key. Here you could use a set of headphones and listen to music while you had a 'hands-on' experience with their memorabilia---and what memorabilia! There were original souvenier programs, newspaper articles about the Diaghilev tours in the United States and human interest stories about the dancers. (Alas--no Latte; Barnes & Noble and Borders were still to come). All this brings me to Alexandra Danilova. She was my link to the Diaghilev years and the Maryinsky. I saw a great deal of Danilova with the Ballet Russe from 1944 until her retirement in the 1950's. At that time, the Ballet Russe had two seasons a year in New York, from four to six weeks. I attended 4 or 5 times a week. (I had a very good upper balcony seat at the City Center--Row H Seat 1. It was the last row and I could put the seat up and have a clear view, tickets were $1.10). During those years I saw Danilova perform 'Swan Lake' (Act II); 'Pas de Deux Classique' (Act III); 'Le Beau Danube'; 'Gaite Parisienne'; 'Coppelia'; 'The Red Poppy'; 'Scheherazade'; 'Danses Concertantes', 'Mozartiana', 'Baiser de la Fee' (bride); 'Nutcracker', 'Raymonda', 'Giselle' (Myrtha); 'Pas de Quatre' (cerrito); 'Night Shadow' (sleepwalker); 'Paquita'; and a few prosaic ones---'Billy Sunday'; 'Lola Montez'; 'The Bells'; Cuckold's Fair'. Danilova has been celebrated for her 'Champagne' roles--'Gaite Parisienne', 'Le Beau Danube', and 'Boutique Fantasque', and rightly so. More than mere technique, she had the womanliness and sophistication for these ballets, and her interpretations were quite varied. In the one ('Gaite Parisienne') she was delightfully flirtatious, and there was a fragility in her Street Dancer ('Le Beau Danube')---here was a woman who was bruised by the vicissitudes of life. How unfortunate it is that the Warner Bros. film of 'Gaite Parisienne' in 194l did not include her performance as the glove seller. Leonide Massine and Frederic Franklin are in the film, but she was considered "not photogenic". She was replaced by a soloist in the Company, Milada Mladova. (There is a black and white film that was surreptitiously recorded during many live performances, but it only works as a curiosity piece.) Her Swanilda ('Coppelia') had just the right amount of sensitivity and whimsey. She was the proper village girl in Act I; in Act II she was alternately stubborn, conniving and playful to poor Dr. Coppelius---her pantomime incomparable. In Act III she was transformed into the resplendent Ballerina, no longer was she the village girl. Her performance as Myrtha ('Giselle') changed the dynamics of the ballet. Her unearthly phantom had a stature befitting a Queen, a quality too often missing in most interpretations. The role Balanchine created for her in 'Danses Concertantes' (Ballet Russe, 1944) captures the essence of her dancing---the musicality, wit, sophistication, playfulness. He exploited her sparkle and wonderful sense of rhythm in this work. A later version by New York City Ballet (1972) failed to evoke the original work. Leon Danielian (who alternated partnering Danilova with Frederic Franklin in this work) said: "There's something of the feeling--not of the steps, but the atmosphere--of the old 'Danses Concertantes' in the 'Rubies' section of 'Jewels'" I heartily agree. Danilova was a Balanchine dancer with "soul". It was her Odette that enraptured me. If, indeed, there are few great Odettes, surely Danilova is in the top tier. Her portrayal was one of deeply felt emotion and a resigned sadness to her fate. In her 'Memoirs' she said, "Diaghilev had Balanchine make new choreography for Odette, with droopy hands and sloping shoulders to show that she is unhappy and in mourning...her dancing subordinated to one idea--her sorrow". The celebrated symmetry of her legs created a particularly beautiful line. She could be very fast in allegro. Her Act II Coda, in particular, was fast and very much on the music. (Wendy Whelan's performance of this Coda brought Danilova to mind. Anatole Chujoy states: "Her virtues included elegance, simplicity, dignity, correctness of style...an absence of mannerisms and ostentation..." Edwin Denby said "...it is her feminine presence, her air of dancing for the delight of it..." The heart of her dancing was, indeed, her lack of ostentation and above all, her femininity. She showed us the meaning of the phrase "Grand Manner". October 10, 2003

Degas Dancers "Degas: Dancers Practicing At the Barre" The original painting is square in shape, approximately 36"X36", painted with mixed media on canvas, and framed with a clear glass covering. It portrays two dancers in extended positions at the barre; the one on the left stretching in Arabesque, and the dancer on the right, with her back to us stretching forward in a Developpe. Their supporting legs are beautifully turned out at a 90 deg. angles, as are their extended legs. Impressive, also, is the "aplomb" of the dancers, i.e., stability; they stand straight on the leg so that they could release the hand which holds the barre at any moment and not lose their balance. These dancers are technically proficient and know the important part that the back plays in aplomb. The dancers' skirts are filmy gauze with blue and grey shadows offset by gold sashes around their waists. They stand firmly embedded on a dark shadowed floor highlighted by the gold and orange and olive walls. The dancers reflect the warm sunshine coming from the unseen windows on the opposite side of the studio; their gauze skirts set off by their dark grey shadows on the wall. There is a grey watering can on the extreme left side of the painting. As many have noted, the can emulates the position of the dancer on the right, but the watering can's function is not only one of emulation; it is a necessary asset in a dance studio and has a two-fold purpose. A light sprinkling on the floor gives the dancer a better grip, and it also keeps down the dust from the rosin the dancers use on their slippers. The filmy, gauzy material of these Paris Opera dancers of the 1870's, while beautiful to behold always reminds me of the many tragedies connected with this type of costume in the era before the electric light. A young dancer, Emma Livry, was standing in the wings during a performance when her costume touched an open gas jet. In her horror, she ran acrosss the stage with her costume ablaze. The poor girl suffered for many months before she died. There were flame protecting chemicals available at the time, but dancers hesitated using them because it made the costumes look stiff and dull. The remains of her costume are in the Paris Opera Museum. I am attracted to this painting by the sharp geometric angles of the floor line, the angles of the dancers' supporting and extended legs and the sharp angle of the upward sweep of the floor, and also the feeling of space begging to be occupied in the bare foreground. Half of the canvas is occupied by that bare floor! The center floor beckons the dancers from their languid concentration at the barre to fill the space with their art. Our faraway glance across that bare floor leading up to the dancer (whose face we can see) echoes the faraway look on her face. The dancers' bodies and costumes are modeled and although both are in close proximity to each other on the danvas, each appears to be in her own world of concentration. The dancer on the left, in Arabesque is like a sculpture. I feel she could be turned around and viewed in a different perspective; such is her beautiful line. The two dancers occupy the upper right hand of the canvas on a diagonal. The huge form of the floor occupying the bottom half of the canvas also acts as a barrier to the dancers. We dare not intrude on their concentration. We can only stand back and admire. The colors used on the wall which is bathed in sunlight, are gold and orange and blue-grey shadows. The gold is echoed in the dancers white gauze skirts and their sashes. The floor is a mass of black and grey. The grey is reflected in the watering can. The lightness of the wall adds to the ethereal feeling of the dancers. Line is used as a directional movement. The floor rises on a diagonal and is set off by a broad upward swept baseboard and echoed in the barre. The floor boards in their upward diagonal sweep are accented by thin black lines. The baseboard and barre are also outlined in a thin black line, as is the watering can and a fine line outlining the body parts of the dancers. While the black lines on the floorboards and baseboard tend to be loose, those on the dancers and barre are taut. The upward diagonals lead our eye upwards towards the dancers, but the counter diagonals of the shadows on the floor draw us back to "terra firma" and the firmly planted feet of the dancers. The source of light on this canvas is implied. The wall behind the dancers is drenched in the gold and orange hues of sunlight and there are sharp shadows of the dancers on the wall and floor. The light is coming from the right side of the room across from the dancers; perhaps from tall French doors which might explain the long dark counter diagonal of the darker floor shadows. The clear glass covering on the Museum's original canvas made it a bit difficult to closely observe the brushwork. The clear glass reflected the light in the room and one had to squint very closely to observe any real texture. From what I could determine, the brushwork on the floor and baseboard is smoother than that of the wall and the figures. While the floor has a dull, smooth finish, and the brushstrokes seem to flow in one direction, the back wall is made up of shorter brushstrokes moving in horizontal, vertical and diagonal lines. The dancers' legs and slippers are finely etched and look like a lithograph. I was drawn to this particular Degas work because of it lyricism and quiet feeling. I like the long flowing lines of the dancers' bodies and the way Degas echoes this in the long flowing lines of the many diagonals. I admire the quietness and the calm and the introspection of the subjects. September 29, 2003

I recently acquired a DVD player and before buying a disc I have been previewing it by borrowing the discs from the New York Public Library. (I am fortunate to have such a good source.) I have had pretty good luck so far; I look up titles on Amazon and request them from the NYPL and then decide if they are worth buying. The most recent was a 'Swan Lake' choreographed by Nureyev, with Margot Fonteyn and the Vienna State Opera Ballet, recorded in 1966. I don't recall seeing this on a videotape, so I cannot comment on its clarity, but this DVD was sharp and clear. Nureyev is in top form (28 years old) and Fonteyn belied her age. I liked what Nureyev did with Act I; there wasn't a jester or drunken tutor in sight. He devised a pleasant pas de quatre for two couples, 2 men and 2 women but he could not resist joining in himself and turned it into a pas de cinq at some point. His real mistake was in using (half of the time) the same music Balanchine used for 'Tchaikovsky PDD'. In comparison, Nureyev's choreography looked simplistic and mundane. However, he added a beautiful melancholy solo for the Prince at the end of the act; it was most appropriate and set the mood for Act II. Our first glimpse of Odette in Act II was startling. The first time we see her she is being held aloft in a prone position by unseen arms or mechanical device. The effect is a swan (a rather large one) floating on the lake. Finally, we saw her entrance in the normal manner. He gave us a distinctive Black Swan in Act III. He did not use the familiar music but went back to the 'Tchaikovsky PDD' music part of the time, although his solo music was the customary one. The entrance and adagio is generally exciting, glittery and high-strung. Here it was much more lyric and soft. There was not such a sharp difference between Odette and Odile. I could see where the Prince could be confused. I sometimes wish choreographers would leave Act IV alone and stay with David Blair's version. But it seems that is the Act they like to tinker with. This Act IV had a climax I shall never forget. When Rothbart claimed Odette and swooped her up in his cape and carried her offstage he simultaneously caused a flood! The stage was covered in undulating waves and the hapless Prince could be seen bobbing about, a head rising here, an arm jutting up, flailing arms. (My kingdom for a life preserver, I thought) While this is going on the music is reaching a crushing crescendo. (It took him 3 minutes to drown, which can be a very long time on the stage) At one point he managed to scale the bank of the lake to grasp Odette's hand, but slid down again. Odette exited the same way she came in---held aloft (again by an unseen device) and floating away. (unfortunately, it brought Big Bird to mind) It was comical rather than tragic. What was Nureyev thinking of? I have decided however to purchase the DVD. Nureyev was at the height of his dancing and was a pleasure to see. Having seen other older ballerinas perform I was pleased with the clarity of Fonteyn's technique. It was smooth and effortless (she even did 27 Fouettes, performed fairly stationary). My reservations about Fonteyn's 'Swan Lake' have not changed through the years. (I saw her in 1949) It is a satisfying all-around performance, but not inspirational. I guess I would call it "a good Company Ballerina performance". September 23, 2003

There doesn't seem to be much curiosity about Alicia Markova as a ballerina. The first time I saw her dance was my very first ballet performance, in April 1944 at the old Metropolitan Opera House in New York. She performed 'Les Sylphides' with Anton Dolin. Since she was born in 1910 she was 34 years old--usually considered 'prime time' for a ballerina. At various times I saw her dance 'Giselle', 'Aleko', Tudor's 'Romeo and Juliet', 'Firebird' (the Chagall sets), 'Swan Lake' (ActII), 'Nutcracker' PDD, and 'Pas de Quatre' (Taglioni). She enjoyed a very good 'press'. The so-called 'Dean of American Dance Critics' (I don't know who bestowed this title on him) John Martin of the NYTimes was besotted with her. He proclaimed "...not only the greatest ballerina in the world, but very possibly the greatest that ever lived." He was a bit carried away! To her credit, though,she was quoted as saying: "That's all well and good...it's easy to write that, but it is I who has to live up to it". I suspect she enjoyed the accolade. One of my reservations about her is that she performed like she believed it. One balanced assessment of her I have read was written by Edwin Denby---"Impressions of Markova at the Met", Dance Mag. Dec. '52. He commends her for her weightless descents, the slender feet, her beautiful phrasing, her mime, her stage presence. All true! (She used these gifts to perfection in Tudor's 'Romeo and Juliet') The actual ballet technique was another matter. Both Danilova and Fonteyn danced well past their prime, but still had much more than a modicum of technique and did not have to rely solely on reputation. Elevating one's leg to a 45 deg. angle might be OK for a Romantic ballet, but it doen't work in the 'Nutcracker' PDD, 'Firebird' or 'Swan Lake'---all staples of her performances. Denby states: "She cannot keep a brilliant speed, sustain extensions or lift them slow or high; leaps from one foot begin to blur in the air, her balance is unreliable." When Denby wrote this in 1952 she was 41 years old, but much of this was in evidence when I began watching her in 1944. This was my frustration in watching her perform. But, I had friends who adored her, and were willing to overlook anything.

Wilma Curley I am currently reading Deborah Jowitt's biography of Jerome Robbins---the third book I have read about him in the past three years. The other two were the Greg Lawrence biography, "Dance With Demons" and Christine Conrad's "That Broadway Man, That Ballet Man". Whenever I read about Robbins my thoughts go back to Wilma Curley. I knew she had passed away but didn't know when. I found an obituary on the Web and learned that she died on October 16, 1999; her married name was Harrison; she had two sons and two grand-daughters. She was 62 years old. She was invaluable to Robbins as a dancer and later as an assistant and friend. I knew Wilma as a child when she studied with George Chaffee in the late 1940's. Wilma's mother, who brought her to class three times a week, was the absolute antithesis of the pushy ballet mama. She was a modest woman, and was friendly and well-liked by the other students. Having known her as a child, the qualities that later made her a favorite of Robbins were very much in evidence. Technically, she could "do anything" and "try anything". Her slim long legs were well proportioned and she could go on pointe with very soft shoes. But what was really unique about her was her matter-of-fact attitude to Dance. Her view of ballet was unsentimental; she was not the little girl who dreamed of a pink tutu with a tiara on her head. As a youngster she could appear to be lackadaisical. I think it was this very quality that enabled her to get along so well with Robbins. Greg Lawrence in his Biography says "....she (Wilma) is one of the few who were never intimidated by him..." This quality of indifference enabled her to cut through the pomp, even as a child. As can sometimes happen in a small ballet studio, the private life of the teacher can interfere with the stability of the class to the detriment of the students. This was the case at our Studio in late 1948. My friend and fellow student Ben Harkarvy and I were planning to leave and we both approached Mrs. Curley and urged her to take Wilma to the School of American Ballet. Mrs. Curley was reluctant at first; she was fearful of offending the teacher. But we did convince her that Wilma had a great talent that would be wasted if she was not in a more competitive atmosphere--and in a place where her gifts would be ultimately realized. (I, too, went to SAB, ---but that's another story which I might tell some day). Whenever I read of her in a Robbins biography, I smile a little when I think of how I helped bring her to his attention. Actually, some one in the Robbins family did come in contact with Wilma in January of 1948. Robbins' sister Sonia was at a ballet concert given by George Chaffee in Manhasset, Long Island. She danced under the name of Wilma Frances and performed a solo in a Chaffee ballet to Handel's Alcina Suite, "Vignettes". (One of the dancers in the group was a nanny to Sonia's two children; I also took part in the performance). September 18, 2004