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

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.

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...

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...

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.