The YAGP

One of my younger students, who is thinking about doing the YAGP next year, asked me, "Is it really like the movie, 'First Position'?" I said, yes, pretty much, except for this: The movie used the dramatic hook of making the competition very important for a dancer's career. That's only partly true. If you get a job, or a scholarship, great! If you don't, if you don't do well, or if you do horribly, no one remembers. It's a win/win situation. The only dancers people/judges remember are the ones who do well. If you're in an audition later on, and you're doing great, they're not going to say, "Yes, you look good, today, but three years ago, in the YAGP, you missed those Italian fouettés so we don't want you." Even if you don't place well, you may get something. One of my students got a partial scholarship to the Bolshoi School in New York, because they saw potential. Franco De Vita of ABT said he looks for what dancers will be, not what they are. Dmitri Kulev, in the documentary, was consoling a dancer, saying, "It's a live performance, things happen." So, if you want to do the YAGP, know that it's not the day that matters, it's the work.

See you in class.

Bad choreography and even worse music

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.

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.

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.