Why I Love JB Right Now

I was having an awkward kind of morning: got a little tipsy last night, stayed up too late, slept badly, woke up early (whichever one of us taught my cat that it’s possible to awaken humans by tap-dancing on their bladders needs a swift kick in the tuchas), started reading, lost track of time, failed to eat, etc.

This translated to a wonky start at barre. I couldn’t figure out where my pelvis was or find my lateral obliques or keep my arm from wandering off to do its own thing. My head kept getting ahead of my arm. I tendued to second, then went, “Hmm, no,” and adjusted (which drives both JB and BW crazy).

Midway through one combination, during a sus-sous balance, JB sauntered over, grabbed me by the back of the neck, reset my head and neck, and then used both hands to physically move my entire ribcage.

I tried not to do the weird thing where I respond to someone touching me much in the way that a sea anemone responds to the touch of a potential predator, though it took a little doing.

Anyway, I had mostly sorted myself out by the time we got around to going across the floor and doing jumps, though I was momentarily distressed by this bizarre phenomenon in which, during a mark, my brain went, “assemblé!” and my legs went, “CABRIOLE, MUTHA****A!”

On the other hand (foot?), there were some nice cabrioles in there, so…?

Since this entire combination was assemblés changing direction and leg until none of us could remember which leg was which, that obviously would’ve been a problem.

Anyway, tomorrow should be better. Today the plan is (in no particular order, except for the “early to bed, Nyquil if necessary…” bit):

  • catch up the finances
  • mow the lawn
  • bath
  • make dinner
  • early to bed, Nyquil if necessary because insomnia and insane allergies are making my life difficult

Oh: I’m considering Schumann’s A minor ‘cello concerto for the third act of Simon Crane. I haven’t listened all the way through it yet, but the first movement sounds promising.

For all that, though, I’m still not at all sure that I want to do away with “Isle of the Dead.”

 

Settling the Score, Redux

I thought I’d nailed down the score for Simon Crane, but once I gave it a listen it turned out that the first act was, erm.

Well.

Ah.

It was very Satie.

Don’t take me wrong—I more or less love Eric Satie’s entire oeuvre. But as the score for a ballet, it turns out that “All Satie, All The Time” isn’t really all that effective.

Read the rest of this entry

Two Days Off

I decided not to take an extra class this morning, then remembered after the fact that I don’t have class tomorrow either (it’s Independence Day, and LF is out of town). So I’ve got two days off in a row this week, which is nice in its own way.

My brain already has one foot in next week, though I keep pulling it back when I realize that’s what’s happening.

Today, CM of the Beasties of Spring Collection posted our video to our facebook group. I, of course, proceeded to watch it 6,000,000 times.

It’s interesting, because in one manner of speaking it really wasn’t that long ago, and in another it almost feels like a different time at this point.

Anyway, I still manage to notice what I did well[1], what I could have done better[2], and what I did badly[3].

  1. The partnering: basically, more or less everything that involves partnering is really rather nice.
  2. The one turn in second, which sort of became this jeté rond en tournant thing; the moment between that and the Apollo jump, during which I inexplicably let my arms just kind of hang there not doing anything.
  3. Letting my turnout go here and there, mostly during the very last sequence, which I’d learned a couple of days before the performance; also, looking like a bit of a tool during the running bits.

QV:

00-Opening

This jump, aka my Grand Entrance, which was just … eh. The still image doesn’t convey the fact that I was both behind and doing the wrong step entirely.

10-apolloesque-03

This partnery bit, which doesn’t translate as well to still photography as one might hope, but is still pretty cool.

10-apolloesque-06-jump

This Apollo jump, in which I’m lower than I should be and looking at the ground (and failing to turn my shoulders) because I’m scared out of my wits that my slippery landing foot is going to cause a major catastrophe as soon as I come down.

The best moments, though, really are rather nice:

01-sirens-04-saute

This lovely saute cascade, for example, even though my working leg isn’t as turned-out as it could be :/ This was before the Great Shoe Incident.

05-tendus-01

This bit of lovely synchronicity.

09-Amazons-02

And this bit, although it does read a little bit as the prelude to the biggest catfight in the history of ballet.

The oddest thing is looking at it and realizing that I’ve made quite a bit of progress since March, which seems at once like really not all that long ago and OMG so freaking long ago.

Basically, the way I carry my upper body and arms is really quite different now, among other things. I also try to do a lot less of letting one of my arms subtly flappity-flap.

It will be interesting to see how things come together at next week’s intensive.

06-theSHOE

Let’s also hope that I’m better at keeping my shoes on.

Bad Days, Good Days

During the last two days of this past week’s masterclass, I found myself wading hip-deep in frustration.

My extensions were good, my turns were clean—but I felt weirdly tense and stiff.

Not, like, inflexible physically, though. Rather, I felt like I kept tensing up. Thinking too much. Obsessing a bit.

In reality, I was having the good kind of bad ballet day: once again, interpolating and consolidating all the reams of new stuff I was learning.

Saturday class was a little better; today, after a groggy start, was all aces. Even my petit allegro looked (dare I say it) good.

The exception was turns: I tossed off a lovely triple in a mark, then got excited and threw myself off my leg (with the attendant hoppity-hop of shame) on the actual run. I made myself rein it back in and go for clean singles and doubles on the second side, then got a decent triple back on the repeat.

There was a lot of new intel this week, but the outcome has been a better, freer way of moving.

I’ve also found, once again, the lightness in my petit allegro. Who ever should predict that the quest for lightness could make for such heavy going!

In other news, after a listen-through revealed that the first act score for Simon Crane was, in fact, hella boring as a ballet score, I revamped it by replacing some of the Satie with Dvorak. Now it’s no longer 30 straight minutes of tinkly adagio.

Don’t get me wrong—Satie is one of my favorite composers—but it just wasn’t doing the job in this context.

So at present the score goes Satie-Dvorak-Ravel-Saint Saëns-Rachmaninoff-Satie. Technically, Debussy is also in the mix: I’m using his orchestral transcriptions of the first and third gymnopédies.

Thanks to the power of technology, I can listen through the whole thing, which I’ll be doing later today (attempts this far have been interrupted). If I find acceptable recordings of all the pieces on YouTube, I’ll make a playlist. I’d love to hear your thoughts, as assembling a score for a three-act story ballet from fine different dead guy’s catalogs has been a challenge!

Speaking of which: I discovered that the Saint-Saëns ‘cello concerto is, in fact, choreographable. You just have to think of reach movement as more than one scene. And the transition from Ravel’s “Bolero” into the Saint-Saëns is brill.

I’m debating an extra class tomorrow. I won’t be doing this week’s masterclass because omg car repairs are expensive, but I definitely need to stay tuned up for the upcoming ballet intensive.

On the other hand, I’m almost certainly taking an extra class on Friday, since JB is teaching and that will give me two classes in a row with him, so we’ll see.

Sissones, Petit Allegro Style

As you may know, petit allegro is not my forté.

As such, I ask all kinds of super-technical questions, like:

PLZ HALP.
HOW DO POTEET ALLERGO ZIZZONES LESS BAD?

Fortunately, LAA’s class is small enough that she’s had a chance to really analyze my (admittedly-wack) petit allegro calzone zizzone technique, and last night she gave me two incredibly helpful bits of advice:

  • Tone down the UP!!!!
    • In comparison with barre exercises, think of it as a jeté (accent in, if it helps you keep the adductors fully engaged) rather than as grand battement.
  • Add some side (that is, lateral travel).

So let’s revisit a screencap of me doing pantones sissones:

sissones-01

I’m the one with no feet on the ground.

This is me landing a pannetone sissone[1]. Technically, this was a medium allegro combination, but it was still wildly unnecessary for me to put that much elevation into that jump (and every single other jump in that combination).

  1. If you need a quick refresher, a sissone is a jump from two legs to one leg. A pannetone is a delicious sweet bread (not sweetbread, that’s something else) from Milan.

You can see that my working leg is up there (and turned out and pointed and effing winged, holy hell).

What you can’t see is that I did this entire sissone with very little lateral travel relative to the height of the jump.

You can probably calculate the apex height of the jump with some degree of accuracy. That should give you an idea of why I’m always and forever behind when tasked with sissones in settings other than grand allegro (ideally at “men’s tempo,” which tends to be slow in order to allow for lots of elevation and ballon).

I’ve probably been doing petit allegro sissones this way for quite a while: I think, “Make it smaller,” and respond by making it not go anywhere but UP.

Technically speaking, sissones aren’t really traveling jumps (which is to say that they’re not leaps, basically). Laterally speaking, you shouldn’t go very far in a sissone—but that doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t go anywhere at all.

If you tone down your elevation and allow for a little lateral travel, your petit allegro sissone tends to become the light, lovely little spring that it’s supposed to be, and you don’t get behind the music and find yourself receiving epic side-eye from the poor schmuck attempting to dance next to you.

When I approach them this way, I can make my petit allegro sissones small and light enough to practice them in my kitchen without fear of whacking my feet or shins on things (my kitchen is tiny; the struggle is real). Coincidentally, that also means they’re quick enough to use in those horrible, fast petit allegro combinations universally despised[2] by those of us who are built for grand allegro.

  1. Or at least despaired over…

One more thing: if your hips are ridiculously flexible like mine are, you’ll also want to think about opening  the working leg straight to the side or even a little ahead.

The flexibility of my hips lets me put my legs kind a quite far back in a turned-out second, which can make closing back to 5th to prepare for the next jump really slow and do weird things to the path of the sissone, which should be diagonal.

Coincidentally, I have to think about the same thing when doing grand pirouettes: keep the working leg engaged a few degrees forward of dead-to-the-side, or things become unwieldy because physics.

Stiff

So I realized a few exercises into barre tonight that I had eaten lunch way, way too early. 

Oops. 

By end of class I was both bonking hard and sweating like an unfit racehorse. I couldn’t get enough air moving through my nose to do that nifty breathing exercise I use to slow my heart rate, so I sweated far more than was actually necessary.

I was also stiff in a way that I initially interpreted as ordinary fatigue, but later realized was the result of my muscles flipping me the bird every time I asked them to do anything. That’s what I get for not feeding them enough.   

Still, excepting the repeat of one of our later pirouette exercises, during which I glanced at the mirror and immediately forgot which leg I was supposed to be on and semi-froze (seriously, WAT), things went reasonably well, with some really nice moments into the bargain. 

I don’t think I danced as beautifully, overall, as I did yesterday, but it was still a nice improvement in terms of freedom and musicality compared with what I’ve been doing lately (read: ever). 

I also kept having that weird experience of being flummoxed by frank masculinity of my body. Honestly, I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever get used to that. I’m slowly becoming okay with it, though: I am not a delicate little waif-twink, but I am graceful and occasionally even elegant. 

I don’t think I ever really did the math on that. As horses go, maybe I’m basically like a Friesian: strong-boned and muscular and powerful, but also graceful and elegant. I suspect on some level I’ve codified a dancer’s grace and elegance as those of an Akhal-Teke or a young Thoroughbred, but that’s not the only possibility. Trakheners and Friesians and Dutch warmbloods are also graceful and elegant. So are the baroque Spanish breeds.

I’m built for classical dressage: the restrained power of the passage and the piaffe; the explosive brilliance of the airs above the ground. 

I used to believe that the sheer mass of my body undermined the effect of adagio and so forth. Now I’m beginning to see that a powerful build lends its own magic to balances and développés and penchés. 

So there’s that.

Anyway, I’m exhausted. Tomorrow should be good, though.  

Mid-Year Progress Report, 2017

You guys, WTF?!!!

IT IS ALMOST JULY, YOU GUYS. HOW DID THAT HAPPEN.

did-that-really-just-happen

This blog has now reached a point at which I can recycle images at will for almost any topic.

Anyway, as you know, ballet goals: I haz them.

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Some of my ballet goals, affixed to my copy of Tarasov’s (ahem) *man*ual pour les danseurs (Get it? *MAN*ual? Whomp, whomp, whooommmmmp… :V).

Anyway.  (Yup, it’s about to get long in here, so have a cutscene thingy.)

Read the rest of this entry

Some Boring, Practical Advice on Pursuing Your Wild, Impractical Dreams 

Recently I had a chat with a good friend of mine about goals and so forth, and later it occurred to me that I’d failed to say a few really important things—or, well, things that have been important in my own journey, anyway.

They’re things other people have said to me, mostly, though a couple are insights I gleaned by osmosis growing up. They’re things I need to hear too, from time to time, in order to help keep myself on track. I’m writing them down here, where I can always find them if I need them.

Here they are:

1.Identify your actual Wild, Impractical Dream.

This is harder than it sounds. It took me a long time (though it wouldn’t have taken anywhere near as long if I’d just listened to the voice inside me screaming, “GET BACK TO DANCING FFS”).

First, not everyone actually has a wild, impractical dream of this kind: and that’s okay. Honestly, there’s a lot to be said for practicality and reliability, neither of which which are associated with being the kind of lunatic who goes off in pursuit of a Wild, Impractical Dream.

Second, the kind of Wild, Impractical Dream I’m writing about rarely involves the word “and.” It’s an all-in kind of gig: I want to dance for a regional ballet company, not I want to dance for a regional ballet company and ride my way to the top of the FEI stadium jumping circuit. 

Occasionally, someone manages a spectacular “and.” Usually, if you look into it, it owes either to truly extraordinary circumstances or happens largely by chance and involves related dreams (dance and musical theater, for example, or visual arts and fashion, or architecture and mathematics).

Usually, though, pursuing a Wild, Impractical Dream requires singularity of focus (not least because tunnel vision helps you ignore naysayers).

Basically, when you discover the thing that makes you willing to put everything else aside, you’ve probably found it.

If the thing is coding or massage therapy, congratulations: you’ve got a Wild, Practical dream. You can still read the rest of this if you want, though. I’m pretty sure that, when it comes down to it, the same basic advice applies.

2. If the phrase “…be (a) famous…” is part of your dream, consider reassessing your goals. 

I say this not because any one individual is wildly unlikely to become famous, but because if being famous is part of the motivation, you might actually be barking up the wrong tree.

The passion for the thing, whatever it is—dancing, writing, rotary engines, differential calculus—has to come first.

Otherwise, you’re very probably not going to be motivated enough to stand a snowball’s chance of sticking with it long enough to become mediocre, let alone famous. Wild, Impractical Dreams are harsh mistresses.

If, on the other hand, fame itself is the real Wild, Impractical Dream, own that.

The history of the world is rich with the stories of people who thought, “Man, I’m really not good at anything, but I want to be famous.” The ones who succeed are the ones who acknowledge that fact and dedicate themselves to taking any and every path that might lead to fame until, eventually, one does.
Oddly enough, that’s essentially the same approach that one takes in pursuing  any Wild, Impractical Dream.

3. Take Any and Every Path As Long As You Do So With Focus  

Maybe ballet is your One True Dream, but in the course of pursuing your Wild, Impractical Ballet Dream, you get an offer from a modern company.

If that’s the thing that’s going to let you keep dancing, take it. Be a good Buddhist and avoid clinging to perceptions and phenomena. Maybe ballet feels like the only thing, but sometimes serendipity leads us via scenic byways. Sometimes modern is the way to ballet—and sometimes, on the way to ballet via modern, you discover you were born for the weird and wonderful world of contemporary ballet.

Just learn to discern between scenic byways and “shortcuts” that leave you in Poughkeepsie. And know that sometimes you might get stuck in traffic for a bit.

4. Stand Up for Your Dream 

This might be the hardest one.

A Wild, Impractical Dream is Wild and Impractical at least in part because people don’t “get it.” It might be ahead of its time. It might be way outside of the predominant cultural framework where (and/or when) you are. People might think you’re too young, too old, too black, too white, too poor, too mentally ill, too fat, too skinny, too disabled, too whatever.

Any good Wild, Impractical dream is one you’ll probably have to defend at least once. This requires you to believe not only in your dream, but in yourself—or at least to act like you do.

The funny thing is that by acting as if we believe, we tend to come to believe: we stick around until things start to get real; so real that even we can’t deny it.

5. Accept Change Gracefully (if not Immediately)  

Sometimes, in the midst of pursuing your Wild, Impractical Dream, life will intervene in profound and unexpected ways.

It’s okay to be upset when that happens. Feel the feelings. Have the meltdown, if a meltdown comes along.

The death of a dream is a very hard thing. Even the temporary side-lining or minor refitting of a dream can be hard.

But change is inevitable, and sometimes change knocks is off one course and puts us on another.

Fight with conviction for your Wild, Impractical Dream, knowing that in the end you might not get there. It’s worth doing anyway.

Highlights from Tonight’s Class

Obvs, the fact that I survived is pretty good. 

Here are a few more, in no particular order:

  • The bit during barre when LAA goes, “And then you penché and you just put your hands on the floor and hang out there for a while” as she drops into a 6:00 penché and everyone’s faces be like 😍😒😐😮😯😨😓 while they mentally calculate how badly they’re about to crash & burn
  • But then everyone finds so, so much more penché than they thought they had
  • The bit where JB keeps cracking me up from across the room between barre combinations while I desperately try to keep it together   
  •  The bit when I catch myself in mirror during the waltz and think,  “Holy shizz, I’m dancing!” (Really, “We’re dancing”—my whole group looked so, so good. So polished!) 
  • The bit where holy crap, where did that extension come from? 
  • The bit where I finish the first side of the waltz in an 90 degree extension devant straight out of a stepover double and get The Nod. All dancers know The Nod. We sometimes live and die by The Nod.  

I also made it through essentially all of Trapeze 2 (we’ll see how/if Trap 3 goes, though :P)—the one thing I really couldn’t do was a catcher’s-hang roll-up, and that’s solely because my rectus femoris cramped like a mofo. The legs, they are tired. Pretty sure the bit where I started going,  “Nope ! Nope nope nope! I’m done!” whilst still wrapped in a trapeze was pure comedy, though.   

My front balance and hip hang to catcher’s hang transitions, on the other hand, were aces. 

Forgot To Mention

I only learned about this yesterday, or I’d totally be in Detroit right now, but Ballet Detroit has an Open Session this week. If you’re in the region, drop everything, go, suffer, and return stronger.

Rayevskiy brings the Vaganova, but if you’re afraid you can’t hang, don’t worry. I couldn’t make it 100% of the way on every exercise either, but it was still worth it to take his class. I really wish I could go, because a week of Rayevskiy would be really, really good for all my goals right now.

Ballet-Detroit-Open-Summer-Week-Schedule

Go learn from this terrifyingly-beautiful-but-actually-really-sweet danseur. (Image ganked via screengrab direct from BalletDetroit.)

Since I can’t go, though, you should. You’ll wind up a beast in the best possible sense of the word.

PS: it took me an hour to write this because my stupid computer is terrible :/ Time for some troubleshooting.