I'm sitting here, fighting to get through a full length ballet I'm watching on Amazon Video. I'm more than a half hour into the ballet, and I have yet to hear anything resembling a theme, or a melody. The score is just a mess, a jumble of sounds, a feeble attempt at sophisticated music. Now, I'll be the first to admit that my taste in music may be a bit naive, but I know garbage when I hear it. This stuff makes Prokofiev (whose music I detest) sound like Rodgers and Hammerstein. I understand dissonance and unfinished chords and all that, but music, and choreography, has to have a point, it has to have a purpose. The music in this piece, and the choreography, have no point, no purpose. The steps, like the notes, are worthless. They have no meaning, they don't go anywhere, they tell me nothing. They don't reflect the music, they communicate nothing.
Good choreography should be obvious. You should think, of course that step goes there! No other step would work! That fits the music! Watching this, this, stuff, it's just a collection of steps. I can hear the choreographer in rehearsal saying, "Go over here, do some brisés, then a double cabriole. You do some arabesques, then bourees over there and fall down." There's no reason for any of it.
Does every step have to mean something, something specific? No, of course not. An audience would become overwhelmed by the information, and become mentally exhausted. If the steps, or the majority of them, mean nothing, however, the audience will catch on and get pissed.
The essence of any art form is communication. Whatever you're doing, even if there isn't a story, you have to communicate something to your audience. The only thing I'm getting from this is that no one said no to the choreographer or the composer. Or the costumer, for that matter.
I know the story the piece is based on, and I have no idea what's going on. Oh, there were some recognizable sections earlier, but, now... Oh, oh, now, you have the principal dancer doing some double tours, for no reason at all! Oh, here's a pas de deux for the leads. Do the steps mean anything? Do they tell me something about their relationship? No. Any halfway decent teacher could make up better stuff on the spot for a class!
Now, they're doing a parody of a famous adagio, but I'll bet the Trocadero did it much better. It's the only mildly interesting bit in the whole piece, so far, and only because it's a joke on another ballet. If you didn't know the ballet, it might be funny, but...
I can't believe it, this thing is getting worse! It's turned into some kind of, oh, I can't stand this.
I feel I have now seen the worst ballet, with the worst score, ever.
Please, please, if you are going to choreograph something, or write some music, have a purpose. Don't try and con your audience. Don't just throw steps together, don't just have your musicians see if they can play every note they've ever learned.
Communicate something.
See you in class.
My thoughts on ballet technique and dancing in general, gleaned from 18 years as a dancer, 14 as a professional, 8 with The Joffrey Ballet. I currently teach at South Bay Ballet, the Burbank Dance Academy, and at the California Dance Academy. I retain the rights to all my blog posts. You may share the blog, and quote me, as long as you credit me. If I have quoted someone, or shared a link, please credit where credit is due. Please feel free to comment. You may contact me at jerrykokich@yahoo.com
Digital Degas

Students from the Santa Clarita Ballet
Wednesday, December 9, 2015
Wednesday, August 26, 2015
Throw Your Flip Flops Away
When you point your feet, which is a somewhat common occurrence in classical ballet (sarcasm), you don't want to grip your toes. Use them, yes, of course, but don't grip them like some arboreal creature attempting to cling to a branch, or a ninja hiding like a bat in the rafters. So, why train your toes to grip with every step you take outside the studio?
Now, those of you living in cold climates don't have to worry as much, but in summer, or here in Southern California where we are blessed with warm weather all year round, flip flops are a way of life.
And I hate that for dancers. It's not really good for civilians, either, but for dancers, flip flops are the tools of the Devil.
But, Jerry, they're comfortable, and easy to put on and-
Don't. Ever. Wear. Them. Throw. Them. Away. Or give them to a homeless person who doesn't have any shoes at all.
Flip flops force you to grip with your toes to keep them on. You don't even realize you're doing it. Don't believe me? Try and walk in them with your toes relaxed. Go ahead, I'll wait.
Fell off, didn't they?
You have to grip your toes to keep them on. That. Is. Bad. For. Dancers.
They also have pretty much no arch support, but that's another matter. The most important/dangerous part for dancers is the toe gripping thing.
When you grip your toes, you tense your foot, tighten your ankle, and put tension in your calf. You also shorten the foot. Gripping your toes prevents proper articulation of the foot. You can't go through your foot, and point it properly, if you grip your toes. You should point your heel, first then go through the foot, using the toes at the end, pardon the pun. This is especially important in pointe shoes. You must lengthen the toes so you can press the box of the pointe shoe over and complete your line.
If you want to roll up and down properly en pointe (thank you, Mr. B.), you must stretch the toes. If you want to jump, you must must stretch the toes. If you want to get full flexibility in your ankles, you must stretch the toes. If you want to have a beautiful, long line, you must stretch the toes.
All of that is ruined if you grip your toes, which flip flops force you to do, with every step.
But, what do I wear?
Anything that stays on your foot without you having to hold onto them. Ballet flats. Cute little pumps. Something with a strap around the heel. Uggs. Crocs. Chuck Taylors.
Anything but flip flops. You're a dancer, not only in class, so don't ruin what you've worked on by wearing bad footwear outside the studio. You spend far more time out of class than in it. If you spend that time doing things that are detrimental to your training, it'll only make things worse, not better.
See you in class.
Sunday, July 26, 2015
Shameless Promotion
I've always wondered why no one has made a good pad to put on the barre for stretching. I heard of one product being sold that sounded good, until one of my students said, "It's just a towel!" Well, my invention is not just a towel.
If you've ever wanted something inexpensive, machine washable, and easy to use, check this out:
http://youtu.be/PImtsG30MFA
If you've ever wanted something inexpensive, machine washable, and easy to use, check this out:
http://youtu.be/PImtsG30MFA
Sunday, June 21, 2015
Always Find The Beauty
One of the reasons I chose ballet was because I like being around beauty. I like beautiful things. Ballet is about beauty. Beautiful movement, beautiful music. But, Jerry, what about music that's atonal, or movements that aren't supposed to be beautiful, or evil characters?
Everything has beauty. It's your job as a ballet dancer to find that beauty.
Now, it's easy to find the beauty of the Sugar Plum Fairy, or Prince Siegfried. Even Myrtha, the Queen of the Wilis, who is a stone cold killer, must be beautiful. Her beauty is part of what makes her so terrifying. Where is the beauty of a grotesque character like Carabosse in "Sleeping Beauty", or the frightening visage of Death in "The Green Table"? How do you take the Rat King and make him (or her) a thing of beauty?
In "The Lady and The Hooligan", a 1962 ballet by Konstantin Boyarsky to music by Shostakovich, the Lady is obviously beautiful. The Hooligan, a common street thug, is her complete opposite. Where she is refined, he is crude. Where she is gentle, he's a brute. Where she is graceful, he is ungainly. His opening variation has him stomping around the stage, spitting, flexing his muscles. Yet, he must also have his own beauty. Beneath his rough exterior, there is a loving heart. Beneath his bravado, there is a yearning to be known for his kind soul. His beauty is within. She brings it out.
In "The Green Table", Death is a towering, unstoppable force of Nature. He stalks the battlefield, taking victim after victim. Wearing a plumed helmet, skeletal costume and heavy boots, his face is a horrifying skull, striking terror into the hearts of all who see him. How do you make that beautiful? The power and majesticity of his movements can and should be beautiful, but there are moments of unexpected kindness, which give the dancer the opportunity to create beauty from horror. A Young Girl is forced into prostitution because of the war. She dances with an Old Soldier who takes pity on her, but she knows that there will be others who will not treat her as well... Death comes for her, violently, at first, dragging her around the stage. Then, suddenly, he embraces her gently. She finds escape from her horrible situation in his arms. He gives her the peace of the grave, carefully lowering her body to the stage. He becomes her savior. He is beautiful to her.
Sometimes the beauty is simply in the choreography. Our Rat King in Santa Clarita, is always played by one of our senior ladies, and en pointe. Carol Guidry, the choreographer, gives the dancer demanding classical steps that allow her to show off her pointe work, her extensions, jumps and turns. The costume is a stylized Victorian tunic and unitard, so the lady's legs can be seen, even though her face and head are hidden by a large rat's head. If the choreography gives you steps that are inherently beautiful, long lines, pleasant angles, good lighting, you're pretty much set, but if not, or the costume or makeup are at odds with that beauty, you have to find, or create the beauty. Maybe the character has an elegance that can shine through, or grace that becomes apparent in spite of the steps.
When you stand still on stage, or pause in a movement, you can say a lot. Your gaze, your focus, can say what's important to you. Maybe the beauty comes from what you see, instead of what the audience sees in you.
In the second act of "Giselle", Albrecht has a tough job. He must get the audience to like him. At the end of the first act, Giselle lies dead because his betrayal drove her mad and caused her weak heart to fail. He's pretty ugly at that point. How does he get his "beauty" back? He might get it, by seeing the beauty in Giselle. Maybe he never really looked at her; all he saw was a pretty little peasant girl. Now, he sees how much love there was, how much she loved him. He sees her begging Myrtha for mercy. The crack in Myrtha's armor shows her to be a woman who loved someone very deeply, once. The beauty there helps Albrecht get his back.
Always look for the beauty, especially where there seems to be none.
See you in class.
Everything has beauty. It's your job as a ballet dancer to find that beauty.
Now, it's easy to find the beauty of the Sugar Plum Fairy, or Prince Siegfried. Even Myrtha, the Queen of the Wilis, who is a stone cold killer, must be beautiful. Her beauty is part of what makes her so terrifying. Where is the beauty of a grotesque character like Carabosse in "Sleeping Beauty", or the frightening visage of Death in "The Green Table"? How do you take the Rat King and make him (or her) a thing of beauty?
In "The Lady and The Hooligan", a 1962 ballet by Konstantin Boyarsky to music by Shostakovich, the Lady is obviously beautiful. The Hooligan, a common street thug, is her complete opposite. Where she is refined, he is crude. Where she is gentle, he's a brute. Where she is graceful, he is ungainly. His opening variation has him stomping around the stage, spitting, flexing his muscles. Yet, he must also have his own beauty. Beneath his rough exterior, there is a loving heart. Beneath his bravado, there is a yearning to be known for his kind soul. His beauty is within. She brings it out.
In "The Green Table", Death is a towering, unstoppable force of Nature. He stalks the battlefield, taking victim after victim. Wearing a plumed helmet, skeletal costume and heavy boots, his face is a horrifying skull, striking terror into the hearts of all who see him. How do you make that beautiful? The power and majesticity of his movements can and should be beautiful, but there are moments of unexpected kindness, which give the dancer the opportunity to create beauty from horror. A Young Girl is forced into prostitution because of the war. She dances with an Old Soldier who takes pity on her, but she knows that there will be others who will not treat her as well... Death comes for her, violently, at first, dragging her around the stage. Then, suddenly, he embraces her gently. She finds escape from her horrible situation in his arms. He gives her the peace of the grave, carefully lowering her body to the stage. He becomes her savior. He is beautiful to her.
Sometimes the beauty is simply in the choreography. Our Rat King in Santa Clarita, is always played by one of our senior ladies, and en pointe. Carol Guidry, the choreographer, gives the dancer demanding classical steps that allow her to show off her pointe work, her extensions, jumps and turns. The costume is a stylized Victorian tunic and unitard, so the lady's legs can be seen, even though her face and head are hidden by a large rat's head. If the choreography gives you steps that are inherently beautiful, long lines, pleasant angles, good lighting, you're pretty much set, but if not, or the costume or makeup are at odds with that beauty, you have to find, or create the beauty. Maybe the character has an elegance that can shine through, or grace that becomes apparent in spite of the steps.
When you stand still on stage, or pause in a movement, you can say a lot. Your gaze, your focus, can say what's important to you. Maybe the beauty comes from what you see, instead of what the audience sees in you.
In the second act of "Giselle", Albrecht has a tough job. He must get the audience to like him. At the end of the first act, Giselle lies dead because his betrayal drove her mad and caused her weak heart to fail. He's pretty ugly at that point. How does he get his "beauty" back? He might get it, by seeing the beauty in Giselle. Maybe he never really looked at her; all he saw was a pretty little peasant girl. Now, he sees how much love there was, how much she loved him. He sees her begging Myrtha for mercy. The crack in Myrtha's armor shows her to be a woman who loved someone very deeply, once. The beauty there helps Albrecht get his back.
Always look for the beauty, especially where there seems to be none.
See you in class.
Friday, June 12, 2015
What Students Mean To Teachers
I took class with one of my favorite teachers, Willie Burmann, after not having been in his class for a while. When I walked in, he said hello, and asked me, "Are you still with Joffrey?"
I didn't even think he knew who I was, much less who I danced for.
When I was dancing, I never thought I meant anything to my teachers. It's not that I thought they were inconsiderate people, I just never thought I was important enough to be more than an insignificant blip on their radar. I never wrote to them after I had moved on, or called. I didn't think they would even remember who I was. I can't tell you how surprised I was, when I visited SAB a few years ago and saw Andrei Kramerevsky, still teaching in his 80's. I introduced myself (I hadn't seen him in 30 years), and he said, "I remember you."
Now that I teach, I realize how much my students mean to me. Not just the ones I see on a regular basis, but all of them. Students are a teacher's family. We really do care about them.
This weekend will see several of our graduating seniors doing their last show with us. One of my ladies, who is not in the show, was backstage during rehearsal. We talked about what she was going to be doing, where she would be going to college, etc. I told her that we, teachers, miss our students when they move on. She asked, "Really?" I said, "Yes. That first class when we look over and you're not at the barre... We miss you." Like me, I don't think she ever thought of that. Sure there are always new students, young ones coming into my class for the first time, some of them terrified, some excited, bringing new energy and new artistry with them, but we will always miss those who are no longer there.
Just like you should call your parents and tell them you love them, give your old teachers a call, or drop them an email. Just like your parents, we think about you all the time.
And we love you.
See you in class... Always...
Sunday, June 7, 2015
Acting and Humor in Ballet
Oh, this one really could be an entire book.
I often tell my students to watch videos of the Russians from the 50's-60's-70's. The technique has changed and improved in many ways, but the main reasons I want them to see these great dancers is their passion and their acting.
I see many dancers today who are fantastic technicians, but are lacking in the acting/passion department. Yes, it's the 21st century and legs must be higher (within reason), lines must be cleaner and you must do a lot of pirouettes, but without passion, acting and communication, ballet can be quite hollow. Even in the most abstract ballets, the dancer must communicate something to the audience, must make them feel something.
What has this to do with humor, Jerry? I'm glad you asked.
There are some ballets where the humor is obvious, even though it might get overlooked by the performers. In John Cranko's "Taming of The Shrew", there are many, many moments of outright hilarity. One night, for the wedding of Kate and Petruchio, we all lost it when Billy Forsyth suddenly appeared on stage as the Priest. The role is comedic, but he took it to another level, completely. Like I said, some moments are obviously played for a laugh, but others aren't, because they're not so obvious.
Kitri's first entrance in "Don Q", for example. One of the more common versions of the variation has her doing three crosses of the stage with high battements followed by split jetés, the last one kicking the back of her head. Then she starts another cross the same way, but instead of a high battement, she brushes her foot barely off the stage. "Psych!" Then she continues with a toss of her head and a laugh! She's played a joke on the audience! Now, the dancer had to be sure that the audience knows it's not mean spirited; everyone loves Kitri. She plays with you, but never makes you feel like she's making fun of you.
There's other obvious humor in "Don Q"; Basilio faking his death with a straight razor and so on. There's humor in "Nutcracker". Heck, in "La Fille Mal Gardee" the darn thing starts with chickens! Here's one that might not spring readily to mind:
"Swan Lake".
Wait, what?!
Oh, yeah! Odile, the Black Swan, has a sly, biting sense of humor. In her variation, where she continues the seduction of Siegfried that began in the pas de deux, she blatantly makes fun of Odette! "Oh, geez, that Odette! Swan Queen? Drama Queen is more like it!"
Her variation starts out with raw, naked technique. "Look what I can do." A series of demanding pirouettes, done dead center stage- right in the middle of the palace ballroom- where you can't miss her. Another diagonal, displaying herself, with a quick, Odette-like Swan pose. Then she rushes to the corner, and makes fun of Odette's bourees, her flapping swan arms (Odile is not an enchanted creature; she's Von Rothbart's daughter, who resembles Odette close enough to be her twin), and the sissones from her variation, before returning to her own style of dancing. If the swan arms are done without knowing the insults Odile is making, they tend to look like bad flapping arms, which many dancers are guilty of in both roles (if I haven't gone off about that in a post, I'm sure I'll get to it).
This humor needs a consummate actress to pull off, as well as a dancer in complete control of her technique. You shouldn't hide so-so physical technique behind acting, jut as you shouldn't hide so-so acting behind physical technique. A dancer must understand that their technique, their actual technique, is both physical and emotional, and both must be worked on.
Acting classes for dancers? Heck, yeah! When I was working with a spectacular young dancer on the Temple Destruction variation from "La Bayadere", I loaned her some DVDs of Silent Movies for her to see some acting that really lends itself to ballet, but regular acting classes would be a great help, as well.
See you in class... both kinds...
Acting classes for dancers? Heck, yeah! When I was working with a spectacular young dancer on the Temple Destruction variation from "La Bayadere", I loaned her some DVDs of Silent Movies for her to see some acting that really lends itself to ballet, but regular acting classes would be a great help, as well.
See you in class... both kinds...
Thursday, June 4, 2015
En Dedans Pirouettes
You should be able to do as many en dedans pirouettes as en dehors pirouettes, if you're doing them correctly.
Oh, I hear the cries of protest, now! Let's dive right in, shall we?
When do dancers usually do the most en dehors pirouettes? When they're pulling in from fouettés or turns in second. Why? Because they're using the force from the leg swinging around to launch themselves into their turns. In partnering, when the woman swings her leg through second, as in finger pirouettes or whip turns, you can get a whole lot of pirouettes without that paddling that I hate (I'll get to that in another post, if I haven't already).
One of your legs is a fifth of your body weight. In grande allegro jumping, throwing the leg is a big part of the movement. In turning, it is also.
There are a number of ways to do en dedans pirouettes, including one that Mr. Joffrey taught that pretty much nobody does anymore. The two most common ways are taking the raised leg directly into retiré, and taking it through second position, in a fouetté movement. You will get much more force by doing the fouetté. (I'm assuming you know that you must have more balance than force).
Now, fouetté, whipping the leg, is a circular movement in this instance. So, why do so many teachers teach brushing the leg through first to start an en dedans pirouette? If you are in your typical lunge position to start your turn, and you brush your leg through first, you are performing a linear movement. You are throwing your energy to the side in a straight line, then trying to translate that into a circular movement. It's not impossible, but it will never generate enough force to give you a lot of turns.
I was taught the best way to do en dedans pirouettes by the great Luis Fuente. He regularly did nine in the ballet "Fanfarita"... with castanets! From his deep lunge preparation, he took his leg through a true, circular fouetté, doing a round de jamb to take the leg to second. Staying in plié until the leg got there, he would then bring the leg into retiré as he rose up to relevé, and around he would go!
I was actually told at one school (I'm no longer there) to stop teaching en dedans this way. They wanted me to do the brush through first, even though I could explain and prove that my way was better, AND none of their students could do many en dedans turns their way.
(You must also maintain the turnout of your standing leg throughout the turn. Every en dedans turn, in whatever position, is an en dedans promenade, which must be led by the standing leg. If you are constantly turning out your leg, leading with that heel, you will continue to turn because you will be over your standing leg. If you let that leg turn in, your weight drops back and you're done.)
Now, if you have to adhere to a specific syllabus for exams or certification, okay, do it their way when you have to, but if you actually want to do it well and get more than two turns...
See you in class.
One of your legs is a fifth of your body weight. In grande allegro jumping, throwing the leg is a big part of the movement. In turning, it is also.
There are a number of ways to do en dedans pirouettes, including one that Mr. Joffrey taught that pretty much nobody does anymore. The two most common ways are taking the raised leg directly into retiré, and taking it through second position, in a fouetté movement. You will get much more force by doing the fouetté. (I'm assuming you know that you must have more balance than force).
Now, fouetté, whipping the leg, is a circular movement in this instance. So, why do so many teachers teach brushing the leg through first to start an en dedans pirouette? If you are in your typical lunge position to start your turn, and you brush your leg through first, you are performing a linear movement. You are throwing your energy to the side in a straight line, then trying to translate that into a circular movement. It's not impossible, but it will never generate enough force to give you a lot of turns.
I was taught the best way to do en dedans pirouettes by the great Luis Fuente. He regularly did nine in the ballet "Fanfarita"... with castanets! From his deep lunge preparation, he took his leg through a true, circular fouetté, doing a round de jamb to take the leg to second. Staying in plié until the leg got there, he would then bring the leg into retiré as he rose up to relevé, and around he would go!
I was actually told at one school (I'm no longer there) to stop teaching en dedans this way. They wanted me to do the brush through first, even though I could explain and prove that my way was better, AND none of their students could do many en dedans turns their way.
(You must also maintain the turnout of your standing leg throughout the turn. Every en dedans turn, in whatever position, is an en dedans promenade, which must be led by the standing leg. If you are constantly turning out your leg, leading with that heel, you will continue to turn because you will be over your standing leg. If you let that leg turn in, your weight drops back and you're done.)
Now, if you have to adhere to a specific syllabus for exams or certification, okay, do it their way when you have to, but if you actually want to do it well and get more than two turns...
See you in class.
Sunday, May 31, 2015
Don't wing your foot, just... don't.
A properly pointed foot looks good from any angle. A winged foot looks, well, a winged foot doesn't look good because it's not properly pointed.
I'll say to my students, "When your foot is off the floor in classical ballet, it is _______?" to which they reply, "Pointed!" Not flexed, not winged, pointed.
"But, Jerry, winging can make your foot look so pretty!"
No. It can't. It also affects your technique. It can affect your jump, your turns, your extensions, everything.
If you're sitting in the balcony, a winged foot looks flexed. It shortens your line. It also makes you grab your ankle and the muscles around it. You are not completely stretching your foot, which means you are blocking the energy, keeping it from flowing right through and out, which should be happening with all your limbs. (More on hands in another post). In a jump, if you wing your back foot, you've probably cut the height of your jump, because you have not fully pushed through your foot on your takeoff. In the air, your line is shortened, and it's not as beautiful as it could be.
In a turn, attitude en dehors for example, your foot has to lead the way, specifically, your toes. If you wing your foot, there's that short line/ blocking energy thing, again. Your toes aren't leading you around because they're not pointed in the right direction.
When you point your foot properly, when you stretch your foot, it connects your leg to your body. Even in attitude, a properly stretched, properly pointed foot, lengthens and strengthens your leg and body. En dehors attitude turns have to be connected, strong and lengthened.
I have one student who drives me crazy with winging her feet. It affects everything she does. When she does a high developé, she's so used to winging her foot, she doesn't fully point it at the top of the movement. It looks awful, and this kid has gorgeous feet!
If I can be egotistical enough to say I have a theory about teaching, it's to make things simple. There is one properly pointed position for your foot. Your foot. Learn that, and move on. If you're thinking about pointing your foot one way to do this and another way to do that, it's too complicated. Ballet's hard enough, don't make it harder.
Don't wing your foot, just... don't.
See you in class.
I'll say to my students, "When your foot is off the floor in classical ballet, it is _______?" to which they reply, "Pointed!" Not flexed, not winged, pointed.
"But, Jerry, winging can make your foot look so pretty!"
No. It can't. It also affects your technique. It can affect your jump, your turns, your extensions, everything.
If you're sitting in the balcony, a winged foot looks flexed. It shortens your line. It also makes you grab your ankle and the muscles around it. You are not completely stretching your foot, which means you are blocking the energy, keeping it from flowing right through and out, which should be happening with all your limbs. (More on hands in another post). In a jump, if you wing your back foot, you've probably cut the height of your jump, because you have not fully pushed through your foot on your takeoff. In the air, your line is shortened, and it's not as beautiful as it could be.
In a turn, attitude en dehors for example, your foot has to lead the way, specifically, your toes. If you wing your foot, there's that short line/ blocking energy thing, again. Your toes aren't leading you around because they're not pointed in the right direction.
When you point your foot properly, when you stretch your foot, it connects your leg to your body. Even in attitude, a properly stretched, properly pointed foot, lengthens and strengthens your leg and body. En dehors attitude turns have to be connected, strong and lengthened.
I have one student who drives me crazy with winging her feet. It affects everything she does. When she does a high developé, she's so used to winging her foot, she doesn't fully point it at the top of the movement. It looks awful, and this kid has gorgeous feet!
If I can be egotistical enough to say I have a theory about teaching, it's to make things simple. There is one properly pointed position for your foot. Your foot. Learn that, and move on. If you're thinking about pointing your foot one way to do this and another way to do that, it's too complicated. Ballet's hard enough, don't make it harder.
Don't wing your foot, just... don't.
See you in class.
Grand Plié, "Yes, more please!"
There are some schools where the depth of a grand plié is somewhat shallow. There are some that only do grand plié in some, not all positions. I think both approaches are wrong.
When I was training, I did grand plié, a lot of them, in all positions. I had one Russian teacher who started us off with four in each position, first, second, fourth and fifth. I danced for 18 years and never had a knee injury. Was I flat turned out? No. What I was, was aware of my placement. I never rolled in on my feet. I was always centered on my feet. My knees went over my feet. One time, my sister brought a friend backstage at the Kennedy Center. I was warming up, and her friend looked at my feet and said, "Wow, you don't roll in, at all!" I knew what happened to your knees if you did, so I didn't.
Grand plié is important. Grand plié is essential. But, Jerry, grand plié is bad for your knees!
At the bottom of your grand plié, you are at your most turned-out. This gives you the opportunity to work at holding that extreme as you straighten your legs.
In first, fourth and fifth, the positions where your heels come off the floor (unless you're like my Dad, Kazimir Kokich, who could do grand plié in first with his heels flat on the floor), you are forced to use your hips and thighs more. How many times have you seen somebody do demi plié at one speed, then plummet to the bottom of their grand plié? That's what's bad for your knees, the execution, not the movement.
When I was a personal trainer (two certifications), I was told there were a number of contra-indicated exercises, ones we weren't supposed to have our clients do, because they were dangerous. They weren't. Doing them wrong was dangerous. I was taught by a former Marine, Cpl. Clarence Scriven, who was built like a solid block of granite, how to do all those dangerous exercises properly, and I never injured myself. Exercises like Squats, Box Squats, Deadlifts, Seated Good Mornings, Stiff-Legged Deadlifts, The Farmer's Walk, stuff that scared some people.
No exercise, done properly, is dangerous. Any exercise, or physical activity, is dangerous, if done improperly. You can get severe carpal tunnel syndrome from typing on a keyboard!
There's a weight training method called "partial reps", where you only do part of a full movement. For example, lifting a barbell only halfway up, to target a specific area of a muscle. This can be a valuable addition to your training regimen, but we used to say, "Partial reps build partial muscles". The same can be said for avoiding grand plié or only going down part way. Now, you shouldn't bounce off the bottom, or sit down there, but that's part of the whole do it properly thing. You need to go all the way down to completely work the leg through its full range of motion. The Slave Master, Lankendem, in "Le Corsaire", has a variation that starts with assemble into grand plié, then into a turning sissonne. If you haven't trained your grand plié, that variation could destroy you.
Do grand plié. It's necessary. It will build strength and flexibility. Don't water down your training; learn to do it properly. It's only dangerous if you do it wrong.
See you in class.
Sunday, May 24, 2015
A Little Thought Can Change You
So, in class today, I had the ladies finish the center adagio on relevé, with the arms in a "drawing the bow" position, one arm extended, the fingers of the other hand resting lightly on the shoulder. When they finished the first side, some of them felt a little self-conscious with the somewhat emotional position. I suggested thinking about something, giving emotional and psychological content to the movement.
I mentioned "Swan Lake" and how when Siegfried first meets Odette, she tells him, "There is a lake of my Mother's tears." I said to my ladies, "Think of that for a moment. That lake is filled with tears. How much would someone have to cry to fill an entire lake?" I looked around the room. "You all changed, just now." Expressions changed, body language changed. They all felt some of the profound sadness that comes from knowing that lake was filled by a Mother weeping for a lost child.
When they did the adagio to the second side, they were all different, and no one was self-conscious about the final position.
See you in class.
Wednesday, May 20, 2015
Don't leave everything outside
I wipe my feet when I enter a theatre to perform. That doesn't mean I track mud in if I'm just there to see a show, it refers to a performer's tradition of leaving stuff outside that you don't need and having respect for the art.
Many actors/dancers etc., feel you shouldn't bring emotional baggage into the theatre, that it will get in the way. That's the stuff they want to leave outside. Now, while it's true you don't want to bring things in that will interfere with your performance, petty worries, arguments you've had, depression from life's troubles, often those are just the things you do need for your performance to be real. If you can use those situations in a constructive way, not only will your performance be better, you just might be able to work through some of the things that are affecting you outside the theatre.
I find the theatre and the studio cleansing. If I've had to deal with stupid drivers, a refrigerator that died, whatever, the theatre or the studio becomes a haven for me. I get to leave the idiot who has never used a turn signal in his life outside. If a life situation can be helpful to what I'm doing, though, then I bring that in with me.
I watched a lovely school production of "Swan Lake" recently. A good friend of mine was doing his first Siegfried at the tender age of 15. He did a phenomenal job. Indeed, a seasoned professional would have been quite pleased to dance and act as well as he did. His Odette was a lovely young lady in her final performance with the school. I did not know it was her final show with the dancers she had grown up with- including her younger sister- until afterwards, when I saw her crying as she greeted her friends and family. She brought all that sadness into the theatre and onto the stage with her, and it was perfect. Her personal sadness at moving on, mirrored the possibility of being freed from Von Rothbart's evil clutches. Despite having been trapped by his spell, Odette and the other swans were a family, and one felt that, even with the joy of being free, of escaping should Siegfried's love prove true, that she might miss those who were her sisters.
Our young Siegfried had been dancing with this girl for several years, and they had often performed as a guest couple. His own sadness at losing her came to the forefront in the final act, when he realized his unknowing betrayal due to the cruel machinations of Von Rothbart and Odile meant he might have destroyed Odette's chances for escape. One pose, with him on his knee holding her hand to his cheek, and her turned away, was particularly poignant for its reality. Here were two real people fearful of losing each other.
These young dancers' personal lives served them well in the fantasy of "Swan Lake", making it about real people, which is what art should be. Had they not brought that into the theatre, their portrayal would not have been as touching and powerful as it was. I felt, and I'm sure the rest of the audience did as well, their true sadness, their fear of a change in their lives, but the knowledge that this change must come if either of them is to grow.
Yes, wipe your feet when entering the theatre, but bring your life in with you.
See you in class.
How To Books
I read. A lot. I like reading. You can learn things from reading.
Or at least you should.
I have read sooooo many ballet books that tell you what to do, but not how to do it.
I'm currently reading a book by a very famous teacher. Out of print, an excellent copy is worth around $400. I'm sure this person was a great teacher, as evidenced by the great dancers he produced. However, if you just tried to learn how to do something from the book, you'd be hard pressed to do so.
There's no substitute for taking class. A great teacher can see what each individual student needs, and you have to be in class for the teacher to be able to see you. You should also be able to learn from other sources. Textbooks are not just for academic subjects. Some people may not be good writers, you say? Yes, you're right, but if you can tell a student what to do in class, then just write that down!
My Godmother, Alexandra Danilova (name drop!), wrote an autobiography. She wasn't a writer, but she was a delightful conversationalist, and her book, "Choura", her nickname, reads like you're sitting in her apartment, having tea with her. I try to write these blogs like that. We're in Starbucks, talking, or you're in my class, and I'm giving you suggestions.
Suki Schorer, former principal dancer with New York City Ballet, wrote the definitive book on Balanchine technique, "Suki Schorer on Balanchine Tecnique". (Simple). You can really learn from that book, since it actually tells you how to do things. Now, there are some things I agree with in Neo-Classical technique, and some I don't, but if you want a book that reaches you, Suki's is one.
"The Ballet Companion" by Eliza Minden, is quite possibly the best book on ballet ever. Technique, history, costumes, it has everything. The one thing it does not have, is one word about Gaynor-Minden toe shoes, the ones Eliza designed. You'd think her book would be a commercial for her shoes, but no. She wrote the book about ballet, not as an advertisement.
There are as many, if not more, how to videos out there, that commit the same faux pas as the books, telling you what to do without telling you how to do it. That's like giving class as opposed to teaching class.
So, if you're reading a book that says something like, "In order to do a refectory placed pirouette, you must be perfectly placed", without telling you how to place yourself, toss it in the garbage, and go to class. At least there you can ask questions.
See you in class.
There are as many, if not more, how to videos out there, that commit the same faux pas as the books, telling you what to do without telling you how to do it. That's like giving class as opposed to teaching class.
So, if you're reading a book that says something like, "In order to do a refectory placed pirouette, you must be perfectly placed", without telling you how to place yourself, toss it in the garbage, and go to class. At least there you can ask questions.
See you in class.
Sunday, May 17, 2015
Isolation. Good for choreography...
"Where's the 'pull-up' muscle in your butt?"
There are some things you just don't expect to hear...
Yes, one of my students asked me that. She heard it from some teacher, a teacher I would like to slap. Okay, I wouldn't actually strike someone- I'm not a violent person- but there are some things that really piss me off.
Your body is designed to act in concert, just like an orchestra. Isolation should only be used choreographically, to address a weakness, or rehab an injury. You should not try to use one muscle to do something in dance. Even your largest and most powerful muscles- glutes, latissimus dorsi, and such- can't and aren't supposed to work alone.
The human body is an amazing machine. For example, just look at how the pectoralis major and latissimus dorsi work to move the upper arm. The tendon from the lats inserts into the humerus IN FRONT of the tendon from the pec! Brilliant! That arrangement stabilizes the upper arm, and allows the chest and back to work together, not fight each other.
Now, I know that may sound overly technical, but my point is that the muscles work together. Telling a student that one muscle is responsible for something as important as pulling up is ridiculous. It's also going to drive that student crazy, trying to fire off one single muscle, a muscle that is not strong enough to work alone.
Another of my students came back from a summer session saying how one teacher helped her find the muscle in her butt (I sense a theme) that really worked her turnout. I watched her in rehearsal and class, and it did look like she was using her glutes differently, but after a couple of weeks, it seemed like she was going back to old habits. I think because of the increased workload of the summer session, she was forced to use all her muscles more, just to survive, and now, back to a lighter schedule, she's not. One muscle doesn't do it. In fact, you've got six deep, lateral femoral rotators, and your glute complex, that really turn you out.
Look at it this way: Is it easier to move a couch by yourself, or with several friends? Not the kind who just come over and raid your fridge, the ones who really help.
A teacher who tells you of a secret muscle, is conning you, or worse, actually believes that muscle exists. I believe you should know what every muscle in your body does. It couldn't hurt, and it's cool! If you do, you'll realize that expecting one muscle to be the answer to pulling up or turning out, is just silly.
See you in class.
Saturday, May 16, 2015
If you're so good...
I just watched a video of a phenomenal male dancer. Triple saut de basque, huge double back cabrioles, lots of turns. You've probably seen him on Facebook. No, I won't name him. Now, technically, he's good enough to be a principal at ABT. So why is he dancing for a company that has 12 dancers, 4 of whom are apprentices and 4 are trainees?
He's a jerk. Or so, I've heard.
He walked out on a contract with a larger company, just walked out. I don't know why, but as you hear more about him, read more, see how good he is, then see where he's dancing, now, the pieces fall into place.
He's a jerk.
The ballet world is very small. Very, very small. People talk. Word gets around. If you're a jerk, it doesn't matter how good you are, people will not hire you. It you've walked out on a contract, few people will trust you. I've seen it, many times, before. I've known some amazing dancers who just couldn't get hired. Why?
Because they were jerks.
Not only jerks, but incredibly stupid, as well, because they never changed their tune. They were good enough to be with major companies, but never made it. They'd cover it by saying they were exploring opportunities, or they didn't want to be tied down. Bull. You don't want a steady salary? You're an idiot.
Most of the time, these morons were the truly gifted ones. Perfect bodies, natural turners or jumpers. They had everything. Never really had to work hard. People with so much talent, but no work ethic, no dedication, no honor.
Jerks.
It doesn't matter how high you jump, how many turns you can do, or how perfect your feet are. If you're a jerk, that's what people will remember.
Be a good person. Otherwise...
See you in class.
Decorum
Decorum: Propriety and good taste in conduct or appearance.
Decorum in ballet: Knowing when not to put your leg by your ear.
You don't dance "Don Q" the same way you dance "Giselle". Oh, you'd be surprised how many dancers, professionals, even, who don't get this.
I think Svetlana Zakharova is a brilliant dancer. Absolutely fantastic. I also want to strangle her when I see her leg by her ear in "Giselle"!
One of my students asked me if the penché in Giselle's first act variation should be done en pointe. I said no. Sure, you can, but you shouldn't. Giselle's Mother warns her to be careful because of her health; she has a weak heart. The variation is choreographed wonderfully because it progresses. It starts tentatively. Giselle is testing herself. The first steps are simple, small. As she goes on, and feels strong, the variation gets harder and, as most young people do, she starts to show off. The final manegé is wild and free, but ends with her going to the knee not just because it looks pretty, but because she gets tired. She feels weak. Most dancers don't act this part, they just do the technique.
If you start the variation by doing this bravura move of penché en pointe, you are ignoring the story and, especially with something like "Giselle", there is not one moment when you are not telling the story.
In the second act, okay she's dead, so she doesn't have to worry about her health anymore. However, she's in a romantic length tutu. If you put your leg by your ear, you've got a face full of tulle! Now, I am all for 21st century ballet. Higher legs, more turns, etc. BUT, there's a limit, people! Covering your face with your costume is stupid and one of my students pointed out, you might get it caught on a bobby pin and then act two becomes a comedy.
Decorum. If you dance every ballet the same, you're doing it wrong. Just because you can put your leg by your ear doesn't mean you should. Jeff Goldblum said it best, in "Jurassic Park": "Your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could, that they didn't stop to think if they should."
Stop. Think.
See you in class.
Decorum in ballet: Knowing when not to put your leg by your ear.
You don't dance "Don Q" the same way you dance "Giselle". Oh, you'd be surprised how many dancers, professionals, even, who don't get this.
I think Svetlana Zakharova is a brilliant dancer. Absolutely fantastic. I also want to strangle her when I see her leg by her ear in "Giselle"!
One of my students asked me if the penché in Giselle's first act variation should be done en pointe. I said no. Sure, you can, but you shouldn't. Giselle's Mother warns her to be careful because of her health; she has a weak heart. The variation is choreographed wonderfully because it progresses. It starts tentatively. Giselle is testing herself. The first steps are simple, small. As she goes on, and feels strong, the variation gets harder and, as most young people do, she starts to show off. The final manegé is wild and free, but ends with her going to the knee not just because it looks pretty, but because she gets tired. She feels weak. Most dancers don't act this part, they just do the technique.
If you start the variation by doing this bravura move of penché en pointe, you are ignoring the story and, especially with something like "Giselle", there is not one moment when you are not telling the story.
In the second act, okay she's dead, so she doesn't have to worry about her health anymore. However, she's in a romantic length tutu. If you put your leg by your ear, you've got a face full of tulle! Now, I am all for 21st century ballet. Higher legs, more turns, etc. BUT, there's a limit, people! Covering your face with your costume is stupid and one of my students pointed out, you might get it caught on a bobby pin and then act two becomes a comedy.
Decorum. If you dance every ballet the same, you're doing it wrong. Just because you can put your leg by your ear doesn't mean you should. Jeff Goldblum said it best, in "Jurassic Park": "Your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could, that they didn't stop to think if they should."
Stop. Think.
See you in class.
Wednesday, May 13, 2015
Ballet movies and TV shows
A target audience is the group that is most likely to watch something. Whatever movie or TV show, or book or whatever you make, there are certain people who will instantly gravitate to it. You can hope other people will come, but it is your target audience that will make up the bulk of watchers/readers/fans.
The target audience for any ballet movie/TV show is pre-teen and teenage girls. There are some boys, but it's mostly girls. When you make a movie for that audience about ballet, I think it should inspire young dancers, encourage non-dancers to get involved, or at least go see a ballet, and tell parents that ballet, and dance in general, is a good, beneficial thing for their children.
"Black Swan" and the new series "Flesh and Bone" not only ignore(d) the target audience, but anyone who wasn't in the ballet world would see these things and wonder why the heck anyone would want to be a dancer! What message were they trying to send? Why insult ballet, and dancers? Why make a beautiful thing, ugly and vulgar?
I was talking to a ballet mother about this and she brought up a very good point: Most ballet companies and schools take very good care of their dancers. They have physical therapists on call, sometimes on site. Their have nutritionists speak to their dancers. They give classes in therapeutic exercise like Pilates and yoga. The teachers and ballet masters and directors have close contact with the dancers, and make sure they take care of themselves, since that's simply good business. That's the ballet world of the 21st century.
Are there cruel people in the arts? Sure, just like everywhere else, but according to these awful shows, that's all there is! There was one reality show where the dancers were getting angry that the producers wanted conflict and drama where there wasn't any. They were being told to create some. Reality...
I want a ballet film that's uplifting and shows the struggle and triumph in a positive way, not this dark, edgy crap. No parent who cares about their child would want them in the worlds of "Black Swan" or "Flesh and Bone". I found it quite revealing that most of the people who liked "Black Swan" had never been in a professional company or had any kind of career, and the ones who hated it, like me, had been professionals with major companies. Did I struggle? Yes. Was there hardship? Sure. But it was beautiful. "Black Swan" and "Flesh and Bone" are ugly.
That's not ballet.
See you in class.
I was talking to a ballet mother about this and she brought up a very good point: Most ballet companies and schools take very good care of their dancers. They have physical therapists on call, sometimes on site. Their have nutritionists speak to their dancers. They give classes in therapeutic exercise like Pilates and yoga. The teachers and ballet masters and directors have close contact with the dancers, and make sure they take care of themselves, since that's simply good business. That's the ballet world of the 21st century.
Are there cruel people in the arts? Sure, just like everywhere else, but according to these awful shows, that's all there is! There was one reality show where the dancers were getting angry that the producers wanted conflict and drama where there wasn't any. They were being told to create some. Reality...
I want a ballet film that's uplifting and shows the struggle and triumph in a positive way, not this dark, edgy crap. No parent who cares about their child would want them in the worlds of "Black Swan" or "Flesh and Bone". I found it quite revealing that most of the people who liked "Black Swan" had never been in a professional company or had any kind of career, and the ones who hated it, like me, had been professionals with major companies. Did I struggle? Yes. Was there hardship? Sure. But it was beautiful. "Black Swan" and "Flesh and Bone" are ugly.
That's not ballet.
See you in class.
Tuesday, May 12, 2015
Strength
How much is strength a part of your dancing? I believe your dancing should be equally divided between strength and technique. 50/50. Right down the middle.
I've been focusing, recently, on why some people turn well, while others don't. "I'm not a turner" you say. Okay, why not? I'm going to suggest it's because you're not strong enough. I'll bet you could teach someone the mechanics of turning. You could take one of the young students at your school and teach them the basics of turning. What your legs do, what your arms do and so on. so, you know what to do, and are probably diligent about trying to do it properly, but it still doesn't work.
You know that if you want to do 32 fouettés, you'd better be able to do 32 relevés on one leg, or it just ain't happening. A lot of times, you have the technique to do 32, but your leg gives out after, say, 16. When that happens there is nothing you can do about it. If your leg can't hold you up, you sure as heck are not going to turn on it.
I tell my students to watch videos of the Vaganova classes on YouTube. One of the things you'll notice is how slow a lot of their class work is. The reason you do things slowly is to build strength. The real test of your strength is how slowly you can do something. Ask those guys at the gym who are throwing the weights around, or bouncing them off the floor, to do the exercise slowly, and watch the fun! Most of them can't do it, which is why they're throwing the weight around in the first place. You do want to do things fast, of course, but to build strength, you have to do things slowly.
Doing basic exercises slowly, tendu, fondu, developé, plié (the most basic!), is the best way to not only build strength, but to also really understand the movement. You also have the time to work on proper placement, protect your knees and back, and to blend the strength and the technique.
So, back to turning. You need to be strong, physically strong, to be able to hold your position, to lead with your knee (in a simple pirouette in retiré), to keep your relevé active, and to control the force you take. Most dancers need to take less force to turn, especially on pointe, but a lot of dancers simply aren't strong enough to deal with the force they do take. That force bends and twists their body, instead of going into the turn. If your core isn't strong, if you're not using the trailing side of your back to turn, then whatever force you take is going to be wasted.
One of the exercises I have my students do is to face the barre, and take a position on relevé in retiré, and improve it. Drive your standing leg into the floor, keep turning out your raised leg with your glutes, expend the chest, lift the sternum. It's a living growing, active position. Most dancers let the position deteriorate as they turn. As Matthew Dibble says, "Improve the position!" The great turners are amazingly solid in their turns. That only can come from great strength.
See you in class!
I've been focusing, recently, on why some people turn well, while others don't. "I'm not a turner" you say. Okay, why not? I'm going to suggest it's because you're not strong enough. I'll bet you could teach someone the mechanics of turning. You could take one of the young students at your school and teach them the basics of turning. What your legs do, what your arms do and so on. so, you know what to do, and are probably diligent about trying to do it properly, but it still doesn't work.
You know that if you want to do 32 fouettés, you'd better be able to do 32 relevés on one leg, or it just ain't happening. A lot of times, you have the technique to do 32, but your leg gives out after, say, 16. When that happens there is nothing you can do about it. If your leg can't hold you up, you sure as heck are not going to turn on it.
I tell my students to watch videos of the Vaganova classes on YouTube. One of the things you'll notice is how slow a lot of their class work is. The reason you do things slowly is to build strength. The real test of your strength is how slowly you can do something. Ask those guys at the gym who are throwing the weights around, or bouncing them off the floor, to do the exercise slowly, and watch the fun! Most of them can't do it, which is why they're throwing the weight around in the first place. You do want to do things fast, of course, but to build strength, you have to do things slowly.
Doing basic exercises slowly, tendu, fondu, developé, plié (the most basic!), is the best way to not only build strength, but to also really understand the movement. You also have the time to work on proper placement, protect your knees and back, and to blend the strength and the technique.
So, back to turning. You need to be strong, physically strong, to be able to hold your position, to lead with your knee (in a simple pirouette in retiré), to keep your relevé active, and to control the force you take. Most dancers need to take less force to turn, especially on pointe, but a lot of dancers simply aren't strong enough to deal with the force they do take. That force bends and twists their body, instead of going into the turn. If your core isn't strong, if you're not using the trailing side of your back to turn, then whatever force you take is going to be wasted.
One of the exercises I have my students do is to face the barre, and take a position on relevé in retiré, and improve it. Drive your standing leg into the floor, keep turning out your raised leg with your glutes, expend the chest, lift the sternum. It's a living growing, active position. Most dancers let the position deteriorate as they turn. As Matthew Dibble says, "Improve the position!" The great turners are amazingly solid in their turns. That only can come from great strength.
See you in class!
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