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Back to the Front (Group)

Evidently, my unintentional vacation from ballet technique has done me more good than harm. Far more good, in fact. 

At the Burn, I barely got to ballet at all. I did get to dance often, and I do use my ballet technique instinctively even when dancing to techno or electronica or disco or whatevs, but that’s not the same as a disciplined class (for one thing, it turns into a rond-de-jambefest, because apparently I like waving my legs around; for another, pirouettes on Playa dust in platform jelly sandals(1) be like WUT?).

  1. I succeeded in killing my sandals this year. I’ll either have have to buy another pair or come up with something else. 

Anyway, finally made it back to class today. It was Advanced class, but since quite a few of us were out late last night watching the company’s season opener, M. BeastMode (subbing for our usual teacher, who is in the show) went a little easy on us.

Basically, everything went remarkably well. The chance to fully recharge to glycogen stores and rest all the things has clearly been good for me. I generally remembered the combinations; my body generally did what I asked it to do. Nothing hurt and nothing felt difficult. I psyched myself out on one combination only to discover that I actually had it down, which was really cool. 
It felt good to return to the discipline of the barre; the order of class.

I wouldn’t be the first to describe the ballet studio as my chosen house of worship; I think there’s much to be said for the sacred ritual of class. This goes for modern as well, but I think the difference is that between highly-liturgical worship and the more heart-led but not entirely unstructured kind. 

Both are fine, but I am a fan of liturgy; of the mysticism inherent in ritual done well. I love liturgy for its own sake, whether sacred or secular.

Perhaps, then, it should be no great surprise that my heart is most at home in the ballet studio, with its ancient rites — the liturgies of the barre, of adagio, of centre, of turns, of terre-a-terre, of allegro.

Speaking of which, petit allegro was surprisingly okay today, once I got the of the combination in the right order (I somehow misheard it when it was given).

It went:

  • Glissade, assemblé, sisson simple, coupé (x2) 
  • Glissade, jeté (x2) 
  • Coupé, Ballonais, 
  • Pas de bourré, changement

At first, I had somehow had taken it in with the [Glissade, jeté (x2)] between the [glissade, assemblé, Sisson simple, coupé] parts. Fortunately, I caught that during the mark. Pro Tip: if a mark is offered, TAKE IT. 

Petit allegro-wise, I kept thinking back back to EF’s note about placing my weight so I’m prepared for the quick transfers. (M. BeastMode’s barre did a superb job preparing us, as well.) Also of Krieger’s beautifully light, precise petit allegro in Balanchine’s Theme and Variations last night.

Krieger is our resident Ballet Prince — tall and lean, with a noble visage, and superbly beautiful in flight. I think, though, that he is a jumper rather than a turner by nature. Comforting, that. 

Anyway, it’s back to the usual order of things tomorrow; at least, kind of. Sunday, at any rate, will be normal. 

I am considering swapping Modern Mondays for Modern Fridays, moving my day off to Tuesday — but that’s really all pretty much irrelevant until we have both autos back in action, as Modern Friday is is at 9 AM and hellishly difficult to get to via the bike-and-bus combo. 

So for now I’ll probably stick  with Modern Mondays and revisit my schedule once we get both the car and the truck back from Denis’ brother, who is doing the maintenance stuff on them.
That’s it for now. Oh, I will at some point have photos of the most terrifying arabesque I’ve ever done, atop a giant hashtag in the desert (nope, that’s not a typo). I’m hoping they turn out well, because I really want to post them here. 

Needless to say, I was surpassing grateful for Ancien A.D.‘s note for my supporting leg whilst arabesque-ing some twelve feet or so off the ground with with the wind up my tail and a not-entirely-stable surface underfoot! 

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