“Le Spectre de la Rose is a ballet of the Ballets Russes based on a choreographic poem by Théophile Gautier. The music, by Carl Maria von Weber, was taken from his short piece Invitation to the Dance. Choreography was by Michel Fokine and set and costume design by Léon Bakst. It premiered on April 19, 1911 by the Ballets Russes in the Théâtre de Monte Carlo.
The story is about a debutante who falls asleep after her first ball. She dreams that she is dancing with the rose that she had been holding in her hand. Her dream ends when the rose escapes through the window. The dancers at the original performance were Vaslav Nijinsky as the Rose and Tamara Karsavina as the Girl. …”
Youtube was a great help. I was able to watch so many great dancers performing that piece. I could see, compare and decide what I like and what I don’t like in every performance. You get a couple of clips right beside here, so you can get an idea about the piece:
Manuel Legris:
Baryshnikov:
Nureyev:
Ruzimatov:
These are just a few and there are even more on Youtube to watch.
This piece of dance is pretty delicate to dance since it’s pretty different from what I’ve done. It’s far more important how you move and involve your arms and hands.
What is really dangerous is that all the big names of ballet history (starting with Nijinsky) danced that piece already and as an audience it is really tempting to just be lazy and start comparing. Who is jumping higher, who is doing which version etc…, but in the end please keep in mind there is no perfection possible in any art form and therefore comparison is useless.
I don’t know how about you, but for me it’s important if a performance/photo/painting/show, plainly said any art piece, gives something or not. This giving may be private or public, strong or weak, delicate or bold, but if you’re satisfied with this ‘present’ please be satisfied. There is no need for comparison.
Oups, I got kinda drawn away from my main subject, but whatever…just my two cents ;-).
If everything goes right I will be able to perform it the first time in Taipei on June 20th and 21st.
I just returned from my last performance in the Vienna State Opera.
I am sorry again that I was gone from blogging for some time. Last weeks have been nice. I was working on La Spectre with my mother and sorting out a lot in my life besides ballet. One thing is sure now. I am leaving Vienna as my residence and the ballet company as of May.
…
Here is a list of my performances in the months of May and June:
May 04th - Stars of the 21st Century in Toronto, Canada
May 14th - Hommage a Rudolf Nureyev Gala in Malaga, Spain
May 20th - Full Don Quixote in Kasan, Russia
May 23rd & 24th - Gala in honor of Rudolf Nureyev in Kasan, Russia
Happy Easter to everyone (even though I am one day late to be precise).
Anyway I was reading an article some days ago I found on the another dancers’ blog, TheWinger.com . It’s a great blog from contributors around the globe.
David Hallberg, Principal with ABT (who I’ve met recently in NY for the first time at the gala) mentioned and presented this article in Newsweek , which was written by his collegue Sascha Radetsky. I would like to share it especially with my male readers:
My business attire is a pair of tights. All right, there it is. I wear makeup onstage, and some of my colleagues are gay. Can we move on now? Can we leave behind the tired male-ballet-dancer stigma—that ballet is not a masculine pursuit—in order to move toward an appreciation of the athleticism and artistry involved in this line of work?
On an average day at the job, I handle lithe, lovely women, engage in duels and delight in the experience of an exotic locale. I move like a gymnast or martial artist and embody the vilest of pimps or the most chivalrous and passionate of lovers. I constantly expand the borders of my physical capabilities, and I hone my mind to a quick-learning, focused edge. Come 8 p.m., I’ll fuse dynamic movement and storytelling with the grandeur of a full live orchestra.
Yes, I’m proud of my profession. Yet I find myself slightly guarded when I tell people what I do. Like some sort of incurable blight, the male-dancer stereotype has taken root and metastasized in our cultural consciousness. Pioneers like Baryshnikov or Nureyev might have opened some minds, but their days have long passed, and despite the noble efforts of a handful of current ballet leaders to expose fresh audiences to our art form, a whole new generation looks at male dancing with skewed vision. Some of my peers are foreigners; in many other countries male dancers are held in higher esteem. I studied in Russia for a year and always marveled at the way Russians celebrated their artists, whether their medium was dance, music or the written word. But I’m American, and I want to live in my own country, as a dancer, with some respect.
The most irritating aspect of the male-dancer stereotype is the underlying insinuation that we in some way lack strength of character or a courageous spirit. Male and female, all dancers undergo strenuous training from a very young age, and constantly wrestle with injuries and fatigue. But male dancers must possess a special type of will and fortitude if they are to become professionals, for, like fish swimming upstream, we have to fight through the current of thinly veiled contempt that much of society harbors for our chosen path. In our culture, girls are encouraged to take ballet; boys receive no such endorsement, except of course from ballet teachers or exceptionally supportive parents. The boy who perseveres in dance must have a genuine hunger for it, must be uniquely motivated and dedicated, and must develop a truly thick skin.
I started taking ballet when I was 5. My open-minded parents thought it was a good way to channel my rambunctious behavior. A few years later I was hooked. I loved the physicality and, of course, the girls, but I also learned that not everyone recognized the value of dance the way I did. I don’t remember the first fight I got into for being a kid who took ballet, but I remember fighting a lot before I realized that maybe I should keep my extracurricular activities to myself. But ballet was rewarding enough to be worth a fat lip or a black eye, and I emerged from my years of dance training more focused than ever. My background is not unusual among my American colleagues—they share similar stories of discouragement, harassment and even violence. But these experiences served to harden resolve and develop courage, and I know I can always count on several of my dancer buddies for steadfast support—they got my back! Ironically, the stereotype of the sissy male dancer has given rise to a male dancer who is anything but.
It’s frustrating that I feel obliged to extol the virtues and describe the rigors of my profession. I’d just like to make it known that the path of the male dancer isn’t necessarily easy—as with any truly worthwhile endeavor—but the rewards can be limitless. I feel lucky to have discovered a vocation that has allowed me to glimpse the great depth of human potential, both physical and mental, and has given me the opportunity to bring joy to so many people in so many places. I feel there is honor in the arts, in the world of dance, in the realm of male ballet dancing.
Exposure to ballet is all that is needed to open minds, for the combination of athletic movement, ardent drama and beautiful music can instill a profound appreciation in an audience. But for you out there who still feel compelled to malign male dancers with half-truths and petty stereotypes, well, maybe we need to step outside. I’ll leave my tights on.
I find the article both interesting to read and enlightening about the situation of a (young) male dancer in our society.
Luckily I was not in such a demanding situation. I had the luck of being trained and supported fully by my parents and surroundings. I never got into a fight in school with someone because I do ballet. Maybe it was because almost no one in my academic school (untill the very end) knew I did ballet. I rather kept quiet about my other activities out of school. In the very end it was just too obvious since I missed weeks being on ballet competitions, so slowly most of my friends knew about that. By this time most of the people around me were pretty much grown up and open minded, so there were practically no conflicts.
In my childhood I somehow didn’t mind not speaking or mentioning ballet to other people. Why should I bother them, making problems, letting them have prejudices? As Sascha has put it, ‘Yes, I’m proud of my profession.’ That’s pretty much it. It gives me so much personally, that I don’t have the urge to force it to people. If you like it, great! If you don’t, I really don’t mind, since people and therefore tastes are different.
In the end you cannot and will not be able to please all.
