“Stop, Look, and Listen” Part One
Here are the first shots I took of Katherine Kramer’s fantastic new show, “Stop, Look and Listen,” which just finished several performances in Montana. The show was quite unlike anything I’d seen before, a wonderful fusion of tap and modern dance, with Latin music. The band, the dancers (including my fantastically talented sister) and the concept were all top notch, and there’s hints that a New York performance may be in the works. Wouldn’t you all (at least the New Yorkers out there) be lucky?! Hope you enjoy the photos as much as I enjoyed taking them. More to come.
Close Up Shop
Last night marked the official end of my four-year career with American Ballet Theatre. There were no balloons, no speeches, no tears, and ultimately no closure. Standing in the wings, watching my childhood idols Julie Kent and Ethan Stiefel dancing Giselle, I was reminded of how lucky I am to have worked alongside so many inspiring artists. But as the second act progressed, and the ghost-like wilis overtook the stage, I couldn’t help but feel like one myself.
Over the past year I have had moments of hope where my return to the company seemed almost within reach. Then, in March, the decision was made that I was going to step away from the company and devote my emotional and physical energy into healing; hoping was replaced with coping. That was long ago, and over the course of the subsequent months I have faced the emotional devastation of dealing with a chronic illness that ultimately pulled me away from the goal I worked toward since I was thirteen.
One of the words I have wrestled with most through this time is “closure.” As performer and a writer, I enjoy experiencing the arc of my movement or words when creation is complete. The art that I lose myself in, often wraps things up in a way that morphs my perception of the journeys we take.
I put much of my hope for a neatly tied bow in the end of the year party that typically occurs on the Friday before the final day of Met season. It is a time to celebrate the dancers’ hard work and acknowledge those who are leaving. Because of the nature of ABT’s schedule this year (which continues after Met with four weeks of tour), the party was eliminated. With its cancellation came a barrage of emotions.
It is one of many rituals dancers experience when parting ways with the company, in which I could not partake. I didn’t know my last show, a Romeo and Juliet in Chicago in April 2007, was going to be the final bow I took with the company. While some of these rituals may indeed be superficial, they are moments I wish I had the chance to experience.
In reality, my departure began shortly after that bow, when I was diagnosed with Epstein Barr Virus. Since then, I have drifted away from the friends that became my family during my time with the company. Yet my name still rested comfortably in the middle of the corps listing of the program. Its removal cuts the final strings that tied me to my first New York family.
I took a walk through the Met yesterday evening (essentially this family’s home), gathering my memories of my time as a member. As I wove through the maze, I wondered if it was the last time my ID would let me through the doors; if my dressing room spot would ever be mine again; if I would ever warm-up at the barres in the wings; if I would have another ‘first’ performance, entering the stage and feeling the orchestra sweep over me. These are all questions I can’t answer.
Walking around backstage, I began realizing that life, unlike the movement or words in whose arcs I trust, isn’t something that can be revised through rehearsals or drafts in order to come to a resolution. It is a constantly evolving creation that isn’t over until it’s over. It’s entirely possible that I will be back. And it’s entirely possible that I won’t. I guess that’s the beauty of not having closure; possibilities are endless.
Career Opportunities
(This photo doesn’t really have anything to do with the post, I just happen to like it.)
Quick question before getting down to business: does anyone remember the 1991 movie titled “Career Opportunities” starring Jennifer Connelly? Basically my childhood dream of getting stuck in Target overnight (minus the robbers) captured in an angst ridden teen movie. Anyone? Anyone?
On my list of most likely careers during my lifetime, “copy-editor” was near the bottom, somewhere between “lion tamer,” and “Wonder Woman”. My life as a professional dancer required me to communicate without speaking, and as much as there were right and wrong ways to execute steps, there was also flexibility to the form of expression. Let’s just say that copy-editing isn’t as kind.
I always kept a magazine or book in my dance bag (partly to keep up my reputation as an artistic connoisseur, partly out of genuine interest) but the complexities of the written word were never my primary focus when I was dancing full time. As I took writing jobs over the past year I started to pay more attention to smaller details like word choice, punctuation rules, and structure in an effort to refine my skills (and there’s a LONG way to go). What I didn’t realize was how quickly I would be thrown into the text vortex; a few months ago I took a job as the copy-editor for movmnt magazine (a delicious combination of dance, music, fashion and pop culture).
Unfortunately, my previous career had instilled the idea that there wasn’t one way to correctly punctuate a thought. Movement (which I now always want to spell as “movmnt,” since I typed it so much) is malleable, and in a sense so is the written word, but whereas a choreographer has the endless combinations of arms, legs, plies, contractions, extension, and more when creating a pause in movement, a writer has but a handful of tools: the comma, the semi-colon, the dash, and the period, among others.
What better way to become acquainted with my new friends in the punctuation world than to park myself at a teashop and devour equal parts Strawberry Green Tea and grammatical rules? If only I had been able to get the rules down as smoothly as the tea. By definition my task was to meticulously comb the text by checking its consistency and accuracy. I quickly learned that by practice it was as painstaking as combing through a child’s hair for lice.
I opened up document after document and went through a cycle of revisions for each piece hoping that immersion would breed confidence. First came an initial read through to check for overall consistency of voice, any glaring mistakes, and holes in the story. Then came the tidal wave of minor corrections that left many pieces looking as if they had been scribbled over with a kindergartener’s digital crayons. Like many, I was more capable of editing work that wasn’t my own, but I still struggled and tried to have faith in the process.
Despite my frustration that with punctuation there are correct and incorrect usages, each document I opened revealed the similarities between the structure of dance and the structure of writing. The process of copy-editing felt foreign, but I could rely more on my other career than I initially thought.
I started to notice that very little was said in some of the first drafts I got: thousands of words that painted a picture of the surface. It was then that I realized the abundance of empty sentences in both my own writing and the writing that I was editing. By buffing up a piece with five dollar words, a writer is doing the same things as a dancer who adds extra turns or beats to a combination in class when the technique is clearly missing; simplicity is an artist’s friend.
Also staring out at me like headlights on a dark road was the idea of transitions. There may be endless ways to string together steps, but a choreographer usually stumbles upon a way to transition from one to the other that feels most natural. The same goes with writing. Just as it is impossible for a dancer to go from one side of the stage to the other with a single jump, it is implausible to ask the reader to launch from one thought to another without giving the proper care to the space between.
My work as an editor gave me the chance to make sure that the pieces not only created scenery and lighting on the stage/page, but also moved the reader through them. I was amazed at how far the articles were able to come (with a little collaborating) from the first draft to the printed final — it was the same transformation as from the first rehearsal to the finished performance. And the fatigue editing caused was not dissimilar to the fatigue after completing a full-length ballet. Yet despite my weariness I felt closer to the written word than ever before.
Now everywhere I look there are opportunities for copy-editing. Wedding announcements, business cards (a friend of mine recently saw a doctor whose card read Doulgas Roberts), websites, this post — all chock full of errors I hope to notice with the ease that I used to spot improper lines in the corps de ballet. Unfortunately, one of the biggest comforts of live performance doesn’t translate to the printed word: the idea that mistakes are over once the curtain comes down. In publishing, my mistakes are printed for all to see. Here’s hoping I got it right.
There’s Gotta Be Something Better Than This…Actually, No There’s Not
During a bout of restlessness last night I turned on my computer and started scanning the NY Times. Being the dancer that I am, I bolted right for the Arts section and saw a picture of my best friend extraordinaire, David Hallberg, gracing the screen. After years of performing in NY I am used to seeing my friends pop up in reviews here and there, but nothing could have prepared me for the shower of praise chief NY Times Dance Critic Alastair Macaulay wrote for David.
While no dancer should go around basing their worth on a critic’s opinion, it never hurts to be shown a little love. And it’s been quite a day of love for David. All of his friends have been bounding around, beyond proud of all of David’s hard work and dedication to his art form. Of course, being the constant thinker that he is, he’s not letting himself get TOO caught up in the hype…after all, there’s still another performance of “Swan Lake” to tackle tonight and on Saturday at the matinee! Go check out ABT’s Spring Season at the Met!
Here’s a taste of what the Times had to say:
“But Queen Mother and Tutor on Tuesday night were mere distractions beside the central figure of Prince Siegfried as played by David Hallberg. Has American ballet ever produced such a male paragon of classical-ballet nobility? There’s nothing affected or strained about him. In natural distinction of stance, line both astonishingly refined and blazingly forceful, easy good manners to others and rapt immersion in the story, he epitomizes everything that is already attractive about the young people around him. Thirty years ago, Anthony Dowell was along these lines (but more poetic, less virile). I’m not sure who else, anywhere in the world, in the intervening years has so well embodied the princely type so important to ballet.”
Doesn’t get much better than that! Check out the full review…and grab a ticket!
P.S. Don’t worry. I won’t let him forget that he’s still the goofball from the pictures above. Princely goofball now, I guess!
Glassy Essence: Photo Fest (Part Two)
Here are a few more photos I took at Cedar Lake’s “Glassy Essence” installation. There are SIX more shows this weekend so check it out for yourself if you get a chance!
Glassy Essence: Photo Fest (Part One)
After missing every blogger get together throughout the past year (due to being out of town or consumed by the insanity of life), I finally managed to make it to one last night, and oh what a get together it was! Cedar Lake invited a group of 85 people (including a collection of fantastic dance bloggers) to be the first ever audience for their new “installation,” Glassy Essence.
Along with the information about the performance that Cedar Lake sent out to us, they made sure to let us know that we were allowed to bring cameras and encouraged to photograph the show. This is just one of many ways in which Glassy Essence is an atypical evening.
When we walked in, the gorgeous theater space had been cleared of the usual bleachers and instead had a large table in the center, a wall with blocks reaching out of it, and curtains with images projected on them lining the walls. As the lights went down, the cameras came out, and the dancers devoured every inch of the space thanks in part to inventive contraptions and scenery which helped them explore the vertical space the high ceiling has to offer.
The 40-minute show was such a visual wonderland that I hardly removed my camera from my face at all. I guess I’ll have to return, sans camera, to experience it all again. Check out Oberon’s Grove for an in-depth review of the evening! It was a pleasure to finally meet so many fellow bloggers!
IN THE STUDIO: Hello ‘Tacaca!’ (Part Two)
Tonight marks the premiere of Marcelo Gomes’ “Tacaca” at the Youth America Grand Prix Gala, so I thought I’d share a few more pictures from rehearsal the other day. A big merde to Marcelo, Sarawanee Tanatanit and Blaine Hoven for the show!
IN THE STUDIO: Hello ‘Tacaca!’ (Part One)
THANK YOU TO EVERYONE FOR THE WONDERFUL SUPPORT ON MY LAST POST!!! IT MEANS THE WORLD TO ME!
Wednesday was one of the busiest days I’ve had in the past year. I managed to make time for all three of my passions: writing, dancing, and dolphin training photography.
Even though my backpack made me feel like I was carrying a full-grown person on my shoulders, I was limber enough to sneak around the studio and capture some pictures from Marcelo Gomes’ new piece, “Tacaca.” The piece marks Marcelo’s New York choreographic debut and will be performed on Monday night at the Youth America Grand Prix Gala. Be sure to grab a ticket if you can get your hands on one!
With such gorgeous subjects as Sarwanee Tanatanit (her hair!) and Blaine Hoven, it’s hard to go wrong. Many more pictures to come!!!
Announcement
I’ve known about this for two months now, but I feel as if it’s the right time to discuss a major life change.
38-4-34. Even a year away couldn’t make me forget that combination. For four years I
used it two or three times a day to open my locker at ABT. In that time I had five or six other locks that I lost and forgot, but this one touched my hands so many times that the numbers were as ingrained as my own birthday.
Each time I opened it I would be surprised at the remnants of days passed that I’d left to collect at the bottom: energy bars, old water-bottles, a pair of tights I’d been looking for for weeks. All things that built up to create a mountainous grab-bag of dancer memorabilia. They are all things that are now covered in dust.
When I opened the metal door five days ago, I felt like I’d time traveled back to my old life. Only this time I hadn’t come to collect my things at the end of a workday, I’d come to collect my things for the last time. At the end of July, I will be removed from the roster of ABT.
It was this week a year ago that I found out I had Epstein Barr Virus (EBV). Never in my wildest nightmare would I have imagined it progressing to this stage. As I looked into the pile at the bottom of the locker I noticed a pair of red booties, once vibrant, now covered in a thick coating of dust. On the top shelf: a pair of half-sewn pointe shoes from my last day of rehearsal when I was learning the role of Bottom in The Dream.
For a moment I questioned if these items were indeed mine. I don’t feel like the same person I was a year ago; I’m not the same person I was a year ago. When asked what I do for a living, my once solid stock answer of “dancer,” now catches in my chest, unsure of its ability to make an appearance to the world.
The backpack I was carrying was proof of that professional change. What was once a dance bag now housed a set of dance clothes to take barre, a camera to photograph my friend’s rehearsal, and a computer to work on magazine articles afterward. I feel more like a writer and a photographer at the moment than I do a dancer, and I ask myself how I can own that title if I’m not actively engaged in the profession.
Yet looking in the bag as it sat beside my locker, I realized how I am not defined by what my profession is, but by how I handle myself through everyday life. The three letters “ABT” may have been replaced by “EBV,” but I know that neither define who I am. At the moment I’m not dancing, but I am still a dancer in my soul and I can’t wait to be back performing again.
With the absence of ABT, in many ways, I will be the most lost I’ve ever been. But as is typical with the universe, it has mysterious ways of teaching us lessons. EBV has informed my spirit in a way that I never would have thought possible a year ago; it has grounded me and taught me about what I want in life. Every change it has initiated has been more drastic than I ever could have anticipated, but I’m still soldiering on and defining myself by my strength of character and not by my profession for the first time in my life. No choice but to brush off the dust and start anew…I’m sure it won’t be the last time.
Here’s a toast to the future and whatever it holds in store.
Thanks to everyone for the support over the past year. I certainly won’t stop blogging anytime soon and I have faith that I’ll be back dancing soon…
JOINT POST: Capital D to the C!
DAVID:Sometimes, life on the road gets a little lonely. You spend the majority of your time in a bustling metropolis at the theatre, hardly seeing the light of day. Only to go from hotel room to dressing room, and back again once the sun goes down. It was time to stir things up a bit in lieu of a certain visitor… fellow contributor Matt Murphy.
This week I guested with the Washington Ballet, and given that I was only dancing one masterpiece in the triple bill program, I knew I would have a little free time. By enlisting the help of a certain best friend, we explored some parts of DC that we rarely see when at the Kennedy Center. The Cherry Blossoms were blooming, art was waiting and spring was to be taken in.
MATT: I’ve been to DC a handful of times with ABT in the past four years, but somehow I’ve never really seen the city. Rehearsal schedules would get hectic, fatigue would get the best of me, and therefore I’d rarely venture far from the Kennedy Center. So when David suggested that I come to DC for his performances with Washington Ballet, I didn’t hesitate. I knew that it would be a chance for me to explore the nation’s capital, and see a company I’d never seen before.
Between the cherry blossoms, the museum, the incredible architecture, and staying in a different neighborhood (Dupont Circle), I finally got the chance to see what DC has to offer. I was busy working on several upcoming magazine articles, but I made sure to put my laptop down long enough to explore with my best friend.
Being away from the company for the past year has meant that I don’t get to see some of my closest friends as much as I used to. It’s difficult, but it makes weekends like this that much more meaningful.
Here are some highlights from our trip!!!
(David on his way to see…)
(The cherry blossoms.)
(Singular blossoms are good for…)
(Eating! Need a snack? Eat a flower.)
(Posing in a world of Seuss-like color.)
(They are also fantastic for framing national monuments.)
(The blossoms attacked our next stop as well.)
(Matt getting hypnotized by the Rothko room at The Phillips Collection. Unlike a “Magic Eye” book, Rothko’s do not reveal a secret image when you cross your eyes.)
(David’s ode to the contemporary photographer Thomas Struth.)
(Matt in awe of the De Kooning. He claims the abstract expresionist’s biography changed his life…he says the same thing about the cereal Peanut Butter Puffins.)
(David posing in front of the theater with his favorite pas de deux partner: a vanilla milkshake.)
(It wasn’t long before we had to go to the train station.)
(But that didn’t mean that the photo shoots (of strangers) were over!)
(Just because we were fascinated by strangers didn’t mean we discriminated against ourselves!)
