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Why is strong technique and physical strength in a female dancer somehow deemed to be 'masculine'? Frankly I find that rather a sexist assumption.

Ballet is out-and-out sexist, I'm afraid. Why put ballerinas in tutus? Why make them dance on pointe? Why expect them to hide their powerful technique behind the air of fragility and delicacy?

I understand what previous posters mean when they remark that Alexandrova and Osipova have a "masculinity" about their dancing. That's not to say they are masculine, just not what we normally expect from ballerinas in romantic/classical ballets.

I've seen Osipova only in Don Quixote, where masculinity is hardly the word that came to mind. But watching video clips, and looking at photographs of her in La Bayadere, I do see why some people think of her as masculine. It doesn't bother me and I don't really read her that way. I find her an attractive dancer and an attractive woman.

But I have to disagree about sexism. As you say, what we expect when we watch female dancers is what we've usually seen from female dancers -- expectations are based on experience, not sexism or a gender equal point of view. We know that women look especially pretty in tutus. And we know that men are by and large stronger physically; and that difference is a source of physical attraction for both men and women, which is why Mika Brezhinski on MSNBC can playfully pretend to strangle Joe Scarborough, and not the other way around. Relative physical fragility (or, in this case, the appearance of fragility) and delicate manners are lovely qualities in women, and so as we know the convention in ballet is for women (and to some degree for men to hide), to make dancing look easy rather than a show of strength.

It's sexist to insist that all women be this way or to take those qualities as an excuse for patriarchy, but I don't think it's sexist to have a taste for one over the other in ballet, no more than it is to prefer Martha Graham to, say, what Patricia McBride might have looked like in Graham roles.

Cristian, if you can't find the documentary "Dancing for Mr. B: Six Balanchine Ballerinas" at a local library, Amazon still has it available on VHS. Moylan is quite delightful in it. And as you probably know, using the Amazon link at the top of the page benefits this site.

lIn Orange County, New York, where I live, for instance, the strongest thing you can get at a "strip club" is a V-8.

"Spicy hot with a zesty kick" or . . . well, never mind.

I don't know if Eiko and Koma are still dancing in the nude, but when I saw them 20 years ago it wasn't about sexuality, which is presumably what anyone would object to. And yet still, to answer dirac's question which begun this thread (have you seen any, and how did you react?), it was distracting. A beautiful face is distracting enough. Genitals can't dance.

[soto] was such a protoge of Stanley Williams--he embodied so much of what Williams taught, especially about turning.

To a layman like myself, that's intriguing, Ray. Can you be more specific?

I know that Anne Belle had intended a film on Williams, and I believe she'd begun filming, but then he died. One can dream that some day her footage will see the light of day. Or is it already in the library at Lincoln Center?

scherzo, you're not the first around here to ask. Look here!

I think these researchers need more specificity and maybe a few separate categories for the omnivores, because pop varies greatly in quality. Are we talking about celebrity worshippers who also go see the Nutcracker and the new, much publicized productions of Sleeping Beauty and "Romeo +Juliet," or are we talking about people with a good arts education arts who faithfully subscribe to the Met but also follow the careers of intelligent pop songwriters? Are we talking about 20-somethings with omnivorous cultural curiousity, or are we talking about ex-20-somethings-with-omnivorous-cultural-curiousity who are now 50-somethings but whose tastes, or at least who spending habits, are now more tightly focused?

And paucivores may not care much for contemporary art, but don't many of them go see the smaller shows by established artists, as well as the blockbusters?

Also, folk culture is still alive both here and across the pond, as I'm reminded of when I flip past the local access cable TV station and see a small heterogeneous circle of people standing and picking banjos, guitars and mandolins.

denby wrote for NY dailies and other magazines and journals during this time (the 1940s into the 60s) as a critic, but not for the NYer.

Oh! Thanks for the correction.

Victor5687, if you subscribe to the New York Times in print or in paper you have free access to their archives. Their dance critic from 1927-62 was John Martin. Non-subscribers can buy articles individually or in groups of ten. Denby and Croce wrote for The New Yorker. As rg said, you could find their books, or at a library search the DVD "The Complete New Yorker."

Thanks, milosr. Somehow I thought you were referring to contemporary orchestral composers.

"What am I supposed to do? Wait around until you catch up??"

After his late 70's hiatus, he arguably never caught back up with himself.

Stockhausen had an enormous influence on 70s-era Miles Davis who, lo these many years later, influences all sorts of people (whether they know it or not.)

Very interesting, milosr. In larger doses, I prefer 50's and 60's Miles, but just who are you thinking of?

I quite dislike the use of a '+' there. Romeo & Juliet can hardly offend viewers who are going to see bodies instead of screens.

I don't like the "+" either, but I suppose it's intended to attract the same young people who might go see "NEWYORKCITYBALLET." Now which was it that wrote that "For George Balanchine, it was always the Company rather than the individual dancers who was the star at New York City Ballet"?

Has anyone noticed that the site also dumped that old-fashioned Balanchine Lyre as its logo? The new logo is a magnificent evocation of the choreography of The Ballet Master in Chief.

You would have thought R + J would have retained its +, thus evoking Edward Gorey..., but not, at least, on the home page.

Yes, what's with that? I believe I recently saw a reference somewhere to the lyre being the "former NYCB logo."

The lyre has it own page but it's barely visible there. The page's opening sentence is ambiguous:

The lyre, in a number of different forms, has served as the official symbol of New York City Ballet.

When the musical snippet you get on the home page is Brahms or Tchaikovsky or some other lush Romantic, there's a jarring clash of sensibilities.

I see your point there, but I don't experience it that way and, anyhow, I turned the speakers off when the music began, just as I try to tune out the video when I buy tickets in the lobby at the State Theater. Both decisions are of a piece with my preference for black and white over color here. When I used to go to a lot of rock concerts, I didn't want to hear the bands' music over the loudspeakers before the show. In the same way, if the photos were really remarkable or revealing I might like the color, but too many little color photos and larger cut out shots of familiar material tire my eye and diminish the magic. The black and white, on the other hand, strikes me as elegant. While I wait for the chance to see another performance, less is more.

But it's interesting to me that some of the most experienced viewers here feel differently, and if I was a newcomer to the ballet and just a casual fan I'd probably feel differently myself.

I find the black and white is refreshing. I only wish they'd hire a professional writer.

What an interesting historical question, FauxPas. But while the Nutcracker may be set at Christmastime, and though Christmas trees were originally a Christian gloss on paganism (rebirth being common to both outlooks), the Nutcracker is not actually a religious tale. Also, while the Church moved the date of the celebration to co-opt pagan celebrations, Christians have never celebrated Christ's birthday, but rather his birth.

popularlibrary, evangelicals come in stripes conservative to progressive, and opinions of Harry Potter vary accordingly.

As to what some have said about dancers being focused on one thing to the detriment of other areas – that may well be true, but perhaps such depth and intensity of concentration in an art requiring such a high level of mastery has its own rewards, of a kind that some “well-rounded” people never know.

Certainly.

There are many forms of intelligence, verbal, mathematical, musical, movement, artistic and so forth. Some are gifted in one, some in several. While it's nice to think that people who have movement (dance) intelligence (skill) can be articulate and reflexive about what they do, don't expect it.

Yes, that was part of what I was trying to say, and why I wondered about the number of dancers who have the sort of intelligence (and education) required for good writing.

The creative process does require a certain level of thinking, analysis, knowledge and so forth, but I would think that many dancers are not the least bit creative. What they are is a "vessel" which dance can be created "on". I would expect a fair number of movement geniuses, including atheletes to be as inarticulate as the village idiot or as articulate as Shakespeare. The ones who can, do, the others who can't, shouldn't (probably).

That may be true of some corps dancers, but when dancers speak of having roles created on them they often sound like junior partners in the creative process. And when they talk about dancing this or that role, they often show imagination and, for example in the case of Paris Opera Ballet dancers talking about Jewels, analytical skill. Recently I quoted Laura Jacobs in The New Criterion attributing a particularly imaginative dance image to her favorite, Veronika Part: "Part's arch sinks back into dream, revisiting the spell and giving us a glimpse of the curve, stress, and bevel that held her in that hundred-year sleep. This is Part's power: radiant, radical imagining." I responded that it was probably Jacobs and not Part who came up with that image, but carbro questioned my presumption, and she was probably right.

One aspect of the poor quality of ballet dancers' writing could be attributed to age (this dovetails with Aurora's comments, actually). I say this because I recently attended a memorial service for my mother, given by medical students of the hospital to which she donated her body. It all sounded very promising, and every detail was attended to, and the production values were better than some dance performances I've been to. Yet once the very young med students came onto the stage, one after the other, to deliver their testimonials they were, in a word, awful: their clearly carefully prepared speeches were filled with cliches and commonplace expressions (don't get me started on the music choices--if my mother only knew that someone was singing Pink Floyd at her service!). I never doubted their sincerity for a moment, but they simply didn't have the experiential toolbox to produce diverse or deep responses.

I think as I move further away from performing I feel an acute sense of disappointment that more dancers, especially those I admire greatly, haven't developed their ability to articulate their experiences. I felt this most keenly recently listening to Suzanne Farrell on a GBF DVD where she's coaching dancers in Monumentum/Movements: she could barely craft thoughtful responses to Joan Acocella's softball questions. SO to end on a sunny note, perhaps it is good that younger dancers are starting to write now so that they will be able to reflect, describe, and analyze more clearly and distinctly when they can't do entrechats any more.

Thanks for the very interesting thoughts, Ray. I admire dancers enormously for their dedication, but while they're great and disciplined athletes, we don't look to athletes for articulate and contextualized reflection. And dancers work so long and hard in the studio that they often don't have time or energy, or so we hear, for much besides dancing. What I've often wondered is how many have the time and opportunity, and how many have the aptitude -- which is another sort of gift from what they display onstage -- to develop and pursue the cultural and intellectual interests that could give their writing depth.

I've gotten to the point where I just click for posts by four or five members and skip all the rest. So much of that blog holds absolutely no interest for me. But I particularly enjoy Matt Murphy and David Hallberg. David has such a sense of wonder and an easy, familiar tone. He's a fun read. And I'm glad to have whatever opportunity Carla Korbes gives to see her post-NYCB career. Just wish she'd post more regularly.

I feel about the same. I preferred the site when it had fewer posters and more of a focus on ballet, but Kristin Sloan obviously has a different vision for it. I look forward to Murphy's posts once (fingers crossed) he actively rejoins ABT.

Suzanne Farrell's remembrance is now on the Kennedy Center's web site.

Issue two, was how fascinating it was to watch the choreography without the music. I didn't enjoy it -- I want the music! -- but without the music, the ballet was pure Architecture. It was like watching artisans put a beautiful statue in place -- first this angle, then that. Does she look better from this side, or that? for the viewer, it was a completely different experience.

Shades of Jerome Robbins planning a ballet to Aaron Copland's "Dance Panels" waltzes and arriving at the first rehearsal without the music, remembering only the counts, and choreographing anyhow. I hope those students can all see "Moves" when NYCB dances it in D.C. next year.

NYCB's promo DVD for "Romeo + Juliet" came in the mail today. That "+" in the title is good marketing to younger audiences, of course, even if as a middle-oldster I don't like it. But I find the DVD a really winning, attractive item, even though I've seen the content on The Winger. I don't know what the discs cost to produce, but the narrative aspect really pulls the viewer in, as in, "OK, now what does the finished ballet look like?" So I'll bet these are a terrific marketing tool, and I'd be interested to know how wide of a circulation they are given. Will they be free in the State Theater lobby? Packaged in The New Yorker? Etc.

Here is an appreciation of the man from The Guardian.

If you dress up, it's still because that's what makes you feel comfortable. Since I pay a lot of attention to the way I dress every day anyway, I feel somewhat dressed up even if it would be technically casual to someone else; I'm not concerned with what they think of it, and don't expect them to be concerned with what I think about them.

I think that at almost any performance there will be people in attendance who for whatever reason rarely go to the ballet, and consider it an occasion, and enjoy seeing people dressed accordingly. It was certainly an occasion for me when I unexpectedly spent an extra night in New York a few years ago and so was able to go back to Carnegie Hall for a second concert by the Kirov Orchestra conducted Valery Gergiev. It probably wasn't an occasion for the college-age kids who showed up in ripped jeans, and their attire offended me. Of course that's an extreme example, at least in my experience.

Having said that, I could probably stand to dress up more. I'm most comfortable in a t-shirt and jeans, but I wear a polo shirt and chinos for ballet matinees and have never felt out of place. For evening performances I replace the shirt with a coat and tie. When we see a matinee of ABT's Sleeping Beauty next month, it'll be an occasion for us because we're taking in-laws, including a young ballet student. I'm going to mark the occasion with a coat and a tie.

Not sure whether it was in Dancing on My Grave or in an interview, but I remember Gelsey recounting how she lost the role of Marie when, in an early rehearsal, she refused to take the hand of the Prince.

You have the right book, I just reread it. Although "thrilled with the prospect" of dancing Clara, she was "secretly infatuated" with another boy and "stubbornly refused" to hold the hand of one she considered "unworthy." Driven out out of the theater "in tears" by the objecting ballet mistress, she was later given a minor role. For worse and at the same time for better, character is indeed destiny, and that's a wonderful anecdote.