George Balanchine

George Balanchine is acclaimed the world over as one of the greatest choreographers in the history of ballet. OBT’s  Celebrating Balanchine program offers a glorious spectrum of his art. In this blog, we offer a beyond-the-ballet picture of this creative genius, known to those who worked with him as Mr. B.

Giorgi Mellitonovitch Balachivadze didn’t take to ballet right away. He began his studies at age nine, at the Czar’s Imperial Ballet School in St. Petersburg. He was so unhappy that he ran away. With his debut at age ten, as a cupid in the Maryinsky Theatre Ballet Company production of The Sleeping Beauty, performing won him over.

George Balanchine (right) in his ballet school uniform, with his brother Andrei.

Balanchine as a Cupid in The Sleeping Beauty.

Partly out of economic necessity during his early years in the United States, Balanchine made choreography for Broadway and Hollywood musicals, and for elephants in the circus. He even got his cat Mourka leaping like a dancer.

Rehearsing for The Ballet of the Elephants to Stravinsky’s Circus Polka. Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus at Madison Square Garden in 1942. Photo: United Press International

Mourka and Mr. B dancing at home. Photo: Martha Swope

Ray Bolger, film dancer and star from the 1930s through the 1970s, wrote, “Working with Balanchine was like spinning from Juilliard to the Louvre to the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts to Stillman’s Gymnasium.”

Tamara Geva and Ray Bolger dancing Balanchine’s Slaughter on 10th Avenue in the film “On Your Toes” in 1936.

Mr. B was an accomplished musician. In addition to his ballet training, he studied piano, music theory, composition and harmony at the Conservatory of Music in St. Petersburg. On occasion, he composed music (Christopher Stowell used one of Balanchine’s piano pieces in his ballet Tolstoy’s Waltz), and sometimes prepared piano reductions of orchestral scores for music he intended to choreograph. He loved and respected music.

Balanchine at the piano, about 1941. Photo: Walker Evans.

Balanchine married his creative muses, formally marrying and divorcing four times, and living for an extended period with another “wife.”

Balanchine with his first wife, Tamara Geva, in Russia in 1923. Photo: Courtesy of Karin von Aroldingen

Balanchine was with Alexandra Danilova from 1926 through 1933. Here he coaches Danilova and Fredric Franklin in Danses Concertantes in 1944. Photo: A.F. Sozio

Mr. B with his second wife, Vera Zorina, on the set for “Goldwyn Follies.” They were married from 1938 to 1946. Photo: Courtesy of The Museum of Modern Art/Film Stills Archive

Balanchine with his third wife, Maria Tallchief, in costume for Le Baiser de la Fée. They were married from 1946-1952. Photo: Irving Penn

Mr. B rehearsing Symphony in C with Tanaquil LeClercq and Francisco Moncion. Balanchine and LeClercq were married from 1952-1969. Photo: George Platt Lynes

 Biographer Bernard Tapir wrote that, “Balanchine liked science fiction, TV westerns, French sauces and American ice creams. He wore a sort of Russianized version of a Wild West dude’s garb—bright, pearl-buttoned shirts, black string tie, gambler’s plaid vest, frontier pants. On him, these surprising outfits appeared natural and elegant.”

Balanchine in one of his favorite pearl-buttoned western shirts. Photo: Martha Swope

Friend and physician Edith Langer wrote of Mr. B, “His love of cooking was famous. I sat with him once where there was a salesman for Cuisinart, who tried to give George one of these efficient machines. He was unimpressed. He explained that he enjoyed chopping. He ironed his own shirts. His joy in all the ordinary tasks of life was part of his charm.”

Each year, Balanchine prepared a lavish supper for his friends at Easter. Photo: Martha Swope

Edward Gorey, illustrator and cartoonist perhaps best known these days for his animated introduction to the PBS Mystery series, was an avid fan of Balanchine’s choreography. Gorey attended New York City Ballet performances with devout regularity until Mr. B’s death, then never returned.

See for yourself the depth of Mr. B and his approach to dance, music and art at Celebrating Balanchine June 14 – 16. GET TICKETS

Edward Gorey, seen here in a self-portrait, made cartoons based on Balanchine’s ballets like this one of The Four Temperaments below.

Matthew Neenan. Photo by Alexander Iziliaev.

He was trying “to get to the tiger inside,” says Matthew Neenan of his ballet At the border. “It’s pretty aerobic. Twenty sections in sixteen minutes…two lead couples, other couples and trios flying in and out. It’s a marathon, non-stop dance, dance, dance.” What a great finale for OBT’s upcoming American Music Festival.

The ballet’s title is a whimsical reference to the score—a rollicking piano duet called Hallelujah Junction by John Adams, who has a cabin near a truck stop called Hallelujah Junction that is at the border of California and Nevada. Matthew admired the music for ten years before he dared use it. “I’d only been choreographing for about a year when I found the music. I remember getting it at Tower Records, before i-Tunes. I was scared of it because it’s really complex. It has that Adams punch, so it’s got to be danced that way too.”

Principal Dancers Haiyan Wu and Yang Zou in rehearsal for the West Coast Premiere of Matthew Neenan’s At the border. Neenan’s piece is one of three works on OBT’s Spring program, American Music Festival. Photo by Blaine Truitt Covert. American Music Festival runs April 18 – 27, 2013 at the Newmark Theatre.

John Adams spoke of Hallelujah Junction as “a case of a great title looking for a piece… the ‘junction’ being the interlocking style of two-piano writing which features short, highly rhythmicized motives bouncing back and forth…” It’s one of those pieces of American music that has appealed to several choreographers. Peter Martins used it to make a new work for the Royal Danish Ballet in 2001. Modern dance choreographer Doug Varone used it too. “I love Doug’s piece,” says Matthew, “it’s in bare feet with jeans and t-shirts and tons of pedestrian movement, but I knew my ideas for this music were completely different.”

Company Artist Grace Shibley in rehearsal for the West Coast Premiere of Matthew Neenan’s At the border. Photo by Blaine Truitt Covert. American Music Festival runs April 18 – 27, 2013 at the Newmark Theatre.

In 2009, Matthew felt ready to do justice to Hallelujah Junction and choreographed it for Pennsylvania Ballet, where he is Choreographer in Residence. Matthew says, “All those dancers running to one side and back again, they’re crossing borders, playing with the idea of borders. It’s like in my own life, I’m always going back and forth between Philadelphia and New York, crossing borders myself.” Watching rehearsals in 2009, Lewis Whittington wrote, “Neenan hot wires the dense keyboard runs…there are delicate piqués next to women sprinting en pointe, thrilling jump sequences next to gorgeous bodyscapes, a cyclonic duet and… razor sharp aerials.”

Répétiteur Tara Keating in rehearsal for the West Coast Premiere of Matthew Neenan’s At the border. Photo by Blaine Truitt Covert.

Tara Keating, who set At the border on OBT, said “You can feel the sections building and building on top of each other. Although the music and the steps get so intense, part of the dancers’ job is to keep a sense of calm. We want to feel that excitement but we can’t let it take over so that it just becomes craziness.”

Just as an interesting post-script, composer John Adams used the title Hallelujah Junction again, for his acclaimed autobiography. In The Boston Globe, David Rollow wrote of Hallelujah Junction: Composing an American Life, “No book I know of better captures the thrill of a moment of artistic freedom and innovation.…this is a book that any aspiring artist, in any medium, should read as a kind of how-to guide to achieving artistic success without losing integrity…”

Répétiteur Tara Keating in rehearsal with Company Artist Martina Chavez for the West Coast Premiere of Matthew Neenan’s At the border. Neenan’s piece is one of three works on OBT’s Spring program, American Music Festival. Photo by Blaine Truitt Covert. American Music Festival runs April 18 – 27, 2013 at the Newmark Theatre.

Choreographer Pontus Lidberg in rehearsal for the world premiere of his new work Stream, choreographed to new music by Portland-born and Julliard-trained composer Ryan Francis. Pontus Lidberg’s piece is one of three works on OBT’s Spring program, American Music Festival. Photo by Blaine Truitt Covert.

The first time I see New York-based choreographer Pontus Lidberg, he’s sitting cross-legged on a chair in Oregon Ballet Theatre’s Studio 1, watching his dancers.  He sits completely still, in perfect meditative posture, not speaking.  The dancers are moving in fluid, twirling patterns across the expanse of floor, like ripples in a bubbling brook or leaves gently blown around by the wind.  Sometimes they are woven together in a quilt of clasped wrists and intertwined arms, twisting torsos and delicately balanced limbs, arched backs subtly connecting and then rolling off on their own again.

Principal Dancer Alison Roper in rehearsal with Principal Dancer Chauncey Parsons and Company Artist Adam Hartley (right) for the world premiere of Pontus Lidberg’s Stream. Photo by Blaine Truitt Covert.

“I very much enjoy partnering, myself.  The interaction of partnering is so wonderful.  It’s a conversation or dialogue of sorts where you really share.  That has influenced my choreography, because I feel I have a lot to give there.”

Suddenly Pontus speaks, standing up and moving to the center of the room to join his dancers.  I watch as he engages them in conversation.  I can’t hear a word, but it’s clear that I am witnessing a glimpse of creative exchange between choreographer and dancers, an ongoing dialogue that will serve to shape this piece over the next few weeks.  I am struck by the way in which Pontus reveals his authority by offering a generous portion of it to the dancers.

Choreographer Pontus Lidberg in rehearsal for the world premiere of his new work Stream.  Photo by Blaine Truitt Covert.

Several days later, when I am asked to write an article on Pontus for the OBT Blog, I am thrilled.  When I tell a few fellow staff members and dancers about my opportunity, I am bombarded with a sea of praise for Pontus.  He is described consistently as “warm,” “gentle” and “Zen.”

Yet here I am, post-interview, excited to write my article but having a hard time getting it off the ground.  I can’t seem to figure out how to structure it.  As a writer, structure is important to me.  Even my poetry tends towards traditional forms like the sonnet or sestina.  I want to describe to the Blog readers Pontus’ new work.  I want to share with you the wisdom he shared with me during our interview. But, where do I begin?  Where’s my narrative?

“There’s not one singular message that is more important than any other in this piece.”

Principal Dancer Alison Roper and Soloist Lucas Threefoot in rehearsal for the world premiere of Pontus Lidberg’s Stream. Photo by Blaine Truitt Covert.

“In the context of dance, ‘narrative’ can have a meaning that I’m not so fond of.  I think dance is more intelligent than us having to have a narrative. But, having said that, most of my work has some sort of human development, a narrative, to it.  I want to challenge myself and do something different.  There’s nothing more to [this piece] than the dance.”

Principal Dancer Alison Roper and Soloist Lucas Threefoot in rehearsal for the world premiere of Pontus Lidberg’s Stream. Photo by Blaine Truitt Covert.

 “There is an existential point of view that is the reason for this [piece] in the first place. In general, I am very interested in existential questions.  Recently I heard a quote or I read a quote I find very to the point from the Buddha – “What we call a person, the Buddha referred to simply as ‘stream’.”  I think that is very to the point because, if you think about it, there is no beginning and no end, there is just now.  The beginning is an arbitrary beginning. The end is an arbitrary end.”

Hmm.  I suppose the most efficient way to write about Pontus Lidberg’s world premiere work “Stream” is to dive right in and go with the flow.

Oregon Ballet Theatre Soloist Lucas Threefoot in rehearsal with choreographer Pontus Lidberg at Director Park in Portland, Oregon in August 2012. Photo by Renata Kosina.

In the summer of 2012, Pontus arrived at OBT to meet the dancers, “to see who they are and how they move, how they process information.”  At that time, he only had access to some first draft sketches of the score by Portland composer Ryan Francis.  Of his decision to work with a modern composer, Pontus says, “A lot of concert dance uses old music nowadays.  There’s a very big roster of famous composers, and a lot of new dance is made to old music.” The score that has evolved three seasons later is a result of a mutual collaboration with Ryan, after several conversations where the following components were discussed:

(1) Mutual sources of musical inspiration shared by choreographer and composer.

(2) Structure (i.e. what Pontus imagined “in terms of movement and how sequences weave into each other”).  “I wanted a cyclical structure.  You start the piece and it goes through a series of transformations to return to the beginning.  However, when you return, it has changed, which is inevitable in life.”

(3) Sounds & the mood of the sound.  “For a while, it was thought that a small chamber ensemble would play this music, but when that became no longer possible, we decided on strings and electronics.  I was excited [about] using electronics because I like the encounter between analog (someone playing) and electronics.  It’s a nice encounter between something very human and something very artificial.”

Principal Dancer Alison Roper and Soloist Brian Simcoe in rehearsal for the world premiere of Pontus Lidberg’s Stream. Photo by Blaine Truitt Covert.

What has emerged is an emotionally stirring, melodic lullaby that inspires deep reflection in the heart of the listener, the type of music that conjures tears.  The personal nature of the music complements the impersonal nature of Pontus’ vision: “If you look at a river or a mountain, it can be quite a strong experience, but it’s not personal.  It’s personal for you, [it’s] your point of view, but the mountain is not talking to you.  I always want to keep in mind that I am working with humans, with people.  They are always going to be humans on the stage with all their own history and everything.  I don’t remove the humanness ever from my dancers, but in this piece, it’s not about that.

Soloist Lucas Threefoot in rehearsal for the world premiere of Pontus Lidberg’s Stream. Photo by Blaine Truitt Covert.

“My range as a choreographer in the last few years has expanded in both directions.  I am very comfortable using classical dancers and completely contemporary dancers, too.  I always leave it to the dancers who are actually going to do it to inform me in what direction to go.  I’m not interested in forcing dancers to do something that is unnatural to them, but I do challenge them.  That’s a good thing, but squeezing them into a box is not.  Because this is a very classical company, the piece has a more neoclassical look, but that’s the dancers’ look, more than anything.

Left to Right: Soloists Brian Simcoe, Julia Rowe and Lucas Threefoot in rehearsal for the world premiere of Pontus Lidberg’s Stream.  Photo by Blaine Truitt Covert.

“However, I did decide to use pointe shoes for the work, which is another reason why I wanted to avoid a more human, personal theme, because most of my work is very human and personal, because the dancers are humans and yet, they do magical things.  But the dancers are normal… They have feelings and perspiration and weight.  I think the pointe shoe is really the coming together of that: the illusion of something that is not quite real.  It’s magical in some ways.  For me, that becomes a clash… to have that magical pointe shoe element come together with real people.

“There is a great deal of magical realism in my work. Dance, in general, is a very fine medium to portray inner events that are limitless.”

Principal Dancer Alison Roper and Soloist Lucas Threefoot in rehearsal for the world premiere of Pontus Lidberg’s Stream. Photo by Blaine Truitt Covert.

When the conversation evolves into a discussion of functional patterns in nature, Pontus says, “This is something that I do, very specifically, in choreography.  My choreography is aesthetic.  It has an aesthetic component to it, but the way I try to achieve that is by efficiency, not by decoration.  I remove decorations.  I find it more beautiful.  More pure and, therefore, more beautiful.”

I describe to Pontus how a friend of mine recently told me he appreciates the trees more in winter, when they’re bare, and therefore, more honest.

Soloists Candace Bouchard and Julie Rowe (background) in rehearsal for the world premiere of Pontus Lidberg’s Stream. Photo by Blaine Truitt Covert.

Pontus considers this and responds, “I had access to nature all the time growing up [in Sweden].  There is something else about trees.  In the fall, the leaves turn yellow and then they fall off.  Sometimes there’s even a gust of wind and then the tree just lets it go, which is not what we do. We cling to things very strongly.  But in nature, it’s not a big deal.  There is no clinging, no remorse.  It’s very efficient… beautiful… direct.  I find that very inspiring.”

By letting go of their leaves, the trees are able to blossom again.  They are honoring their part of a broader cycle.  They go through a series of transformations to return to the beginning, but when they return, they have changed.  As do the patterns of “Stream,” the cycles of Ryan Francis’ score, and as “is inevitable in life.”

This afternoon, as I finish writing my article, Pontus is back in Studio 1. He is twirling among the dancers, turning somersaults on the floor.  Now he is standing among them, laughing.  Now he is up on a chair, watching.

Now he is standing among them again.

Now he is twirling.

Choreographer Pontus Lidberg in rehearsal with Soloist Candace Bouchard for the world premiere of his new work Stream. Photo by Blaine Truitt Covert.

Find out more about American Music Festival, running April 18 – 27, 2013 at the Newmark Theatre.

Paul Stavish

By Paul Stavish

OBT Staffer Paul Stavish is a big Indie music fan and was thrilled to learn that Choreographer Trey McIntyre would be using the music of Seattle’s Fleet Foxes for his new work. As our resident Fleet Foxes expert Paul shares some interesting connections between the music and ballet itself.

Fleet Foxes

“I was raised up believing
I was somehow unique
Like a snowflake, distinct among snowflakes,
Unique in each way you can see.
But, now, after some thinking, I’d say I’d rather be
A functioning cog in some great machinery,
Serving something beyond me.”

The above is a lyric from pacific NW indie rock rising stars Fleet Foxes, from a song called Helplessness Blues, the title track off their latest record.

It’s an interesting line, and my favorite one they’ve written.   Can’t we relate to this?  As children, so many of us are encouraged to develop the knowledge and experience that will allow us to become unique.  Yet when we enter adulthood, we become part of society.  We look to discover what’s popular, and listen to a lot of the same music and movies together.  We crave others who can appreciate and share our similar interests and experiences.  There are at times others who do what we do best better.  We are not all presidents, superstars, or in charge.

What I love about that line is that it so perfectly illustrates that not only is this perfectly ok, but that it is in fact invigorating, and inspiring.

Ballet illustrates this sentiment with such beauty.  The peak of ballet is to see a company that exists and acts in unison.  Each dancer plays a part in this as they listen, contribute, and respond to the energy around them.  I have been told that dancers at times describe this as not only dancing together, but breathing together.  It’s a beautiful thought – a group of individuals who have worked so hard to perfect their individual skills so that they can best serve an entity able to radiate more powerfully than any individual can.

Perhaps you saw this when the Snowflakes dance in The Nutcracker.

Oregon Ballet Theatre’s 2012 production of George Balanchine’s The Nutcracker. Photo by Blaine Truitt Covert.

Or when the Swans were on stage earlier this year in Swan Lake.

Oregon Ballet Theatre’s 2013 production of Christopher Stowell’s Swan Lake. Photo by Blaine Truitt Covert.

In a few short weeks, we’ll display this phenomenon once again.  We can’t wait to show you how connected Trey McIntyre’s Robust American Love is to the seven Fleet Foxes songs he’s choreographed to.  Pontus Lidberg has created an amazingly smooth and liquidic ballet called Stream.  Matthew Neenan’s At the border provides the juicy and dynamic contrast that you’ll sink your teeth into.

Come and be a part of it.

Find out more about American Music Festival.

OBT Dance Historian Linda Besant

“When we’re in the presence of brilliance, we know it. Yo-Yo Ma with his cello, for example. Born for his art, devoting his life to perfecting it. Trey McIntyre is just such a luminary among makers of dance.” I wrote that in 1998 for one of my first assignments at OBT, when I interviewed Trey about his creative process as a choreographer. Fifteen years later, having followed his impressive career with pleasure, it’s my privilege to interview Trey again as he makes his new ballet, Robust American Love, for OBT’s “American Music Festival” program in April.

Watching Trey in the studio the past couple of weeks, I see that creative principles he articulated fifteen years ago continue to guide his work. In ways that I hope are illuminating, I’ve interspersed material from that 1998 article into the interview below. (The older quotes are in italics.)

Choreographer Trey McIntyre in rehearsal with Soloists Lucas Threefoot and Javier Ubell for the world premiere of Robust American Love for OBT’s American Music Festival program. Photo by Ashby Baldock.

Linda Besant: The Fleet Foxes are real favorites here in the Northwest. How did you choose their music for this “American Music Festival” commission?

Trey McIntyre: Christopher Stowell asked me to use somebody from this area. Andrea Lauer, a designer I was working with, mentioned that she knew someone who was the sound engineer for the Fleet Foxes. They had been in the back of my mind, to me their first album is so great, so special, that it was an easy choice.

The reason I respond to them is the Americana part, so suggestive of wide-open spaces and canyons, and obviously, folk music references, and kind of old-style lyrics and poetry. These are themes I’m very interested in. Coming from the heartland, coming from Wichita, Kansas, it has never until now, with this piece, been a conscious thing, but my perspective is American. It’s funny, I’m at an age right now that there’s a certain kind of patriotism that I’m really warming up to—how great it is to live in this place. Both in our way of governing and treating each other, but also the terrain, and all the things that make up being in this country.

Other people have recognized it in the work I’ve made, especially later in life. Dance writers—I’ve started being referred to really frequently as a very American choreographer. In this piece, I’m actually for the first time really looking at that, thinking about the experience of country. I really approached the piece with those feelings.

I chose pre-civil war era America in terms of very early stages of inhabiting a brand new place and pioneering, and the kind of toughness and optimism that it took for people to make that leap. We’re talking about being from hardy stock—my family is heavy with Dutch and German and Native American, really connected to doing an honest day’s work, and connected with the land. I wanted to explore those ideas within the piece.

Choreographer Trey McIntyre in rehearsal with Principal Dancer Alison Roper and Soloist Javier Ubell for the world premiere of Robust American Love for OBT’s American Music Festival program. Photo by Ashby Baldock.

LB: How did you arrive at the title Robust American Love for this ballet?

TM:  I thought about people whose language speaks to the same ideas, and Walt Whitman was of course right in the forefront. It was great for me because I didn’t realize how big his canon is. Really gorgeous and so evocative of exactly what I’m trying to get at. I just randomly happened upon this one poem that talks about the West coast. I sat up late last night recording myself reading the poem because I wanted to hear it back and understand what the words mean. I might use a recording of the poem, we’ll see.

A Promise to California

A promise to California,

Or inland to the great pastoral Plains, and on to Puget sound and Oregon;

Sojourning east a while longer, soon I travel toward you, to remain,

to teach robust American love,

For I know very well that I and robust love belong among you,

inland, and along the Western sea;

For these States tend inland and toward the Western sea, and I will also.

Principal Dancer Xuan Cheng and Company Artist Michael Linsmeier in rehearsal for the world premiere of Trey McIntyre’s Robust American Love for OBT’s American Music Festival program. Photo by Ashby Baldock.

LB: Once you’ve chosen the music and have a core idea, how does the movement vocabulary for a new ballet take shape in the mind of a person like you, whose gift is to think in moving images?

TM: “I make sure I completely understand the music count for count, listening a jillion times, imagining movement, improvising with it to get it into my body.” (Trey begins to fill in the blanks, knowing a solo will go here, a group of dancers there.) “Then I try to work improvisationally in the studio. The best stuff comes out that way” (Each day he films his choreography. At night, he studies how the work is progressing.) “There’s an essence that I feel about each ballet, an organic connection, and I recognize it when I see it. The first rule of choreography for me is that I follow my own heart.”

LB: What if it doesn’t feel right?

TM: “Sometimes I’ll listen to music that’s completely opposite of the score for the ballet, and suddenly an answer will come in. Or I’ll think of a ballet that has a similar problem and study how the choreographer solved it. Or I’ll go to a movie, and I always get something out of it. I think in cinematic terms when I structure ballets.” (When he’s formulating an image-idea,) “Everything around me has an influence.”

Principal Dancer Alison Roper and Former Principal Dancer Anne Mueller in the 2008 performance of Trey McIntyre’s Just. Photo by Blaine Truitt Covert.

LB: It’s been a real joy to watch you work with Alison Roper on Robust American Love. I was here when you gave Alison her first major role, in Like a Samba, in 1997 when she was still an apprentice, and she’s never looked back. You’ve made so many stunning ballets with her since. Just and Go Out particularly come to mind.

Choreographer Trey McIntyre in rehearsal with Principal Dancer Alison Roper for the world premiere of Robust American Love for OBT’s American Music Festival program. Photo by Ashby Baldock.

TM: I get the privilege of that relationship, for me. She’s so physically gifted, just built to be a ballerina; but at the same time, and this is not always the case, in fact rarely the case, she has developed such a command of that instrument, understanding it head to toe, and immediately going to the place of so much meaning. She’s never, “OK I just learned the steps, I’ll get to other stuff later.” She gets to what’s important as quickly as possible and then goes deeper and deeper. I have to remind myself to give her feedback because on the one hand I’d love to just watch her and see what she does with it, but I know that feedback is important to her, that it fuels her.

In 1998, Trey said, “Alison takes in every bit of information and works with it. Dancing makes her happy. She carries a full part in the process, we stay on the same wavelength, and it keeps me focused.”

LB: Alison has been rehearsing in a prototype of her costume. It seems like an important element of the choreography.

TM: The costumes take another angle on the context of pioneering America. It’s a weird notion, but it makes sense to me. There’s an excitement and a sexuality to it, it’s primal. So in the costuming I wanted to have two ideas happening at once. Part of it is that the dancers’ bodies here are just so beautiful, and I wanted to unencumber them; the other is these clothes that haven’t gotten too far from Victorian England in so many ways, especially having the women corseted and tight. We have these things busting open— a transition period from restriction to expansiveness. So the clothes are constructed to really kind of hang off of the dancers. The costumes dance on their own, almost separately.

Andrea Lauer (the same person who suggested the Fleet Foxes, she’s kind of the fairy godmother of this piece) also suggested Melissa Schlachtmeyer to design the costumes. It’s working out really well. The fabric is very light denim, so there’s a weight to them.

Costume Rendering for the world premiere of Trey McIntyre’s Robust American Love. Costume design by Melissa Schlachtmeyer.

LB: Making a ballet to a band like the Fleet Foxes isn’t unusual for you. In fact, for the last decade it seems like you’ve drawn on all kinds of popular music, from Preservation Hall Jazz Band to The Shins.

TM: Just this last show I made a piece using classical music again, operatic as well, really because I wanted to stop myself and check back in. The reasoning for using so much popular music is that I want to use contemporary work, and it’s very rare that I like contemporary symphonic music. Maybe this is another kind of American connection—I respond to the sense of place that pop music gives me, because I hear it everywhere, and it becomes a sound track to my life that is very emotionally evocative.

LB: In 1998, I asked Trey how he first started to create choreography.

Trey described himself as “a music theater baby. I wanted to be an actor from day one,” he said. “I was a heavy, clumsy kid. My mom enrolled me in ballet, she thought that might help, and I was a star right away because I was a boy.” Trey was 11, and skipping ballet class, when he put his first combination of steps together. His teacher found him outside, making up steps for other kids. She brought him in to teach his creation to the class. “From then on,” Trey said, “I was always crafting something. It was never a conscious thing, just the way I thought.”

Now, as I did in 1998, I want to thank Carol Iwasaki, Trey’s first teacher of dance, who recognized in the boy who was cutting class an imagination born to create ballet.

Principal Dancer Alison Roper in rehearsal for the world premiere of Trey McIntyre Robust American Love for OBT’s American Music Festival program. Photo by Ashby Baldock

OBT Dance Historian Linda Besant

Year after year, I come away from the School of OBT’s Annual Performance saying, “This is why I love dance.” Among the many programs I see each year, of multiple companies in several cities, why does SOBT’s showcase always feel so special?

For one thing, the repertoire is substantial—this year, George Balanchine’s Serenade, that enduring icon of lyrical beauty, and excerpts from his Gershwin celebration, Who Cares? Plus Rose City Waltz, the first work Christopher Stowell created for SOBT; the “Maypole Dance” from Ashton’s La Fille Mal Gardée, Etude Variations, choreographed by SOBT Director Damara Bennett and Instructor Tracey Katona; and Jerome Robbins’s Circus Polka.

George Balanchine’s Serenade. Photo by Ashby Baldock.

In addition, the program is always costumed and lit to the same impeccable standards as OBT’s company performances. And from the smallest girls in Circus Polka to the apprentices who will perform the leads in Serenade and Who Cares? the dancing will be both meticulous and exuberant.

Jerome Robbins’ Circus Polka. Photo by Christian Johnson.

Jerome Robbins’ Circus Polka. Photo by Ashby Baldock.

In the Annual School Performance you will see the professional dancers of tomorrow. It’s true—twelve of OBT’s current company members were trained fully or in part at SOBT; and I can travel to American Ballet Theatre, New York City Ballet, the Joffrey Ballet, Milwaukee Ballet, Kansas City Ballet, Nevada Ballet Theatre, Ballet San José, Los Angeles Ballet, Ballet San Antonio and Juilliard and say, “I saw them when…”

Former School of Oregon Ballet Theatre Students Katherine Minor (who now dances with Joffrey Ballet) and Adam Hartley (now a Company Artist with Oregon Ballet Theatre) in George Balanchine’s La Source. Photo by Christian Johnson.

But what moves me most is the unabashed dedication and integrity of the student dancers and the people who train and rehearse them. In our world of the thirty-second-attention-span, these young people have chosen an art that takes endless hours of discipline and focus to do well. It’s just plain fun to enjoy the fruits of their labors and to observe that whatever they might do as adults, they have learned how to work hard and to meet the highest standards.

School Director Damara Bennett, The School of Oregon Ballet Theatre. Photo by Ashby Baldock.

So I hope you’ll forgive me for having tossed all semblance of neutrality to the winds and sung the praises of this unfailingly satisfying program. If you love dance, I hope you won’t miss it. If you’re not sure where you stand about ballet, but you want a strong dose of faith in the future, join me at the Newmark Theatre on April 25^th or 27^th for SOBT’s Annual School Performance.

George Balanchine’s Stars and Stripes. Photo by Christian Johnson.

Pictured: Oregon Ballet Theatre Principal Dancer Alison Roper lifted by Soloist Brian Simcoe and surrounded by Soloists Lucas Threefoot and Candace Bouchard, former Principal Dancer Yuka Iino and Company Artist Jordan Kindell in rehearsal with choreographer Pontus Lidberg (left) at Director Park in Portland, Oregon in August 2012.

Though their day will begin as always with company class—an hour-and-a-half of pure classical ballet technique—nobody knows quite yet what the rest of each day will be like. That’s how it is when they bravely launch into a program of two world premieres and one West Coast premiere. All anyone knows for sure is that it’s going to be a pressure cooker of creativity.

Left to Right: Trey McIntyre, photo by Otto Kitsinger; Pontus Lidberg, photo by Renata Kosina; Matthew Neenan, photo by Alexander Iziliaev.

Trey McIntyre arrived this afternoon. Fleet Foxes songs now float through OBT’s hallways. Listen to Fleet Foxes’ Meadowlarks Here

If you’re already a ballet fan here in Portland, you may know that Trey has a special way with popular music because you’ve seen how he made magic with sound tracks as varied as The Beatles, Preservation Hall Jazz Band, Astrud Gilberto, and Antony and the Johnsons during his last visits to Portland. (After seeing his Leatherwing Bat, The Times-Picayune said Trey “proved that one can make great art by responding honestly to such unlikely musical material as Puff the Magic Dragon.”)

Pontus Lidberg and Tara Keating, stager for Matthew Neenan, arrive next week. Pontus has commissioned the music for his ballet from Ryan Francis, a Portland-born composer who graduated from Julliard and now works in New York. It’s something of a rare occurrence in dance these days to birth music and choreography together, and it makes the creative gradient of this world premiere doubly exciting.

Pictured: Oregon Ballet Theatre Soloist Lucas Threefoot in rehearsal with choreographer Pontus Lidberg at Director Park in Portland, Oregon in August 2012.

Pontus was here last summer. Sponsored in collaboration with White Bird Dance, he experimented with partnering and patterns for his new ballet at OBT Exposed in Director Park, so we know that his imagination is unbounded and the dancers know that they’ll be doing some sinuous counter balancing.

Pictured: Oregon Ballet Theatre Soloists Candace Bouchard and Lucas Threefoot in rehearsal with choreographer Pontus Lidberg at Director Park in Portland, Oregon in August 2012.

Matthew Neenan’s At the Border will be a West Coast premiere. Its score is by Pulitzer Prize winner John Adams, who has composed extensively for opera and whose minimalist music often attracts choreographers. The presence of Adams’ music rounds out the American Music Festival theme. As a choreographer, Matthew is based in Philadelphia, where critics say his pieces “generally tend toward the edgy and groundbreaking,” and that “deadpan wit and brisk pacing make Neenan’s dances delight.”

See a photo gallery of Matthew Neenan’s work, At the Border

Matthew Neenan’s At the Border. Copyright Matthew Neenan©. Photography by Alexander Iziliaev.

OBT’s blog will check in every week to keep you abreast of how all this new work takes shape. Meanwhile, we look forward to seeing these brand new dances in the warm and intimate setting of the Newmark Theatre, so perfectly suited for ballet.

The Newmark Theatre

A typical afternoon at Oregon Ballet Theatre.  Various staff, students and guests are passing through the lobby as they attempt to go about their business.  Suddenly they find themselves caught, captivated and stilled, as if time were suspended.  Ballerinas stop mid-stretch, limbs high in the air.  Employees lean against the walls, near breathless.  A young student freezes at the end of my desk, pencil in hand, arm dangling motionless over the sign-in sheet.

All eyes are on Studio 1, where Yuka Iino and her partner are rehearsing a pas de deux from Swan Lake.  Her refined elegance and  generously emotive expressions have us under their spell, and we are all smiling.

Principal Dancers Yuka Iino (as Odette) and Yang Zou (Prince Siegfried) in rehearsal with Christopher Stowell. Photo by Blaine Truitt Covert.

What distinguishes the professional from the amateur?  The artists who teach us how to transcend ourselves from those merely dedicated to skill and craft?  Hearing Yuka speak about her vocation and watching her dance, I begin to understand.

Yuka began dancing at four years old, when her mother, who had a life-long love of dance, brought her to a ballet studio.  Within two years, Yuka had already decided to become professional.  At twelve, she moved away from her family to live in a dormitory.  She attended academic school during the day and went to ballet classes in the afternoon.

“Every single member of my family was 100% supportive of my commitment, especially my mother.  I can’t remember how many times I called her from the dormitory phone crying because practice was very hard. She always encouraged me and told me that she’d support whatever I decided to do, so just do my best.”

Yuka’s idol, Kaori Nakamura, was dancing with the Reiko Yamamoto Ballet Company while she attended their school.  “Particularly, [seeing] her dance Tarantella really drew me into the world of ballet. I was fascinated by the energy unleashed by her body, [she was] full of joy and she just looked so happy. I thought how wonderful it could be if I could do that, too.”

Later, when Kaori became a principal dancer at Pacific Northwest Ballet, she encouraged Yuka to come to the US.  “A little push on my back from somebody to take one step forward.”  The directors of PNB at the time, Kent Stowell and Francia Russell, allowed Yuka to take classes for three months.  During this period, she met their son, Christopher, and auditioned at OBT, where she has shared her talents since 2003.

Principal Dancer Yuka Iino (as Odette) in rehearsal with Christopher Stowell. Photo by Blaine Truitt Covert.

Recently, she announced plans to retire and begin teaching ballet.  “Teaching at [SOBT’s 2012] Summer Intensive, I had a different feeling inside of me than I have ever had. I’ve always enjoyed teaching, but this summer I realized that this is what I’d like to do in the next chapter of my life.”

“Wherever they’d like me, that’s where I want to be… It will be nice to share what I’ve learned… to be [a source of] inspiration.”

But where does inspiration come from and how can it be shared?

“My old ballet teacher Reiko Yamamoto told me that who you are as a person reflects on your dancing.  So she told me that I have to be a generous person before dancing.”

“For me to dance, I have to be rich inside… I think it is important to be aware of any emotions that you feel inside your heart. Not only good or happy, pleasant feelings, [but] devastation, struggle…anything we feel in every day of our lives. Experiencing those emotions is very important to me.”

When asked about Swan Lake, which she will be performing for the fourth time with OBT, Yuka begins to tear up.  “I grew up dancing this piece…It makes me think of every part, every time that I spent as a dancer, from a kid to now.  All.”

Yuka waves her hands frantically in front of her face to ward off tears, apologizing with a laugh and saying “Don’t mind me…”  Even while she maintains her composure, she is still generous with her emotions.  This strikes me as a rare and beautiful combination, at the very heart of ballet as an art form.  This is why so many audience members become devout in their attendance of performances.  Why little girls beg their mothers to let them attend ballet classes after seeing The Nutcracker.  And why all of us in the lobby become enraptured, awed and inspired.  We are witnessing the vast spectrum of human emotions echoing through the subtlest and most refined gestures, the pouring out of the heart’s contents into breathtaking feats of disciplined physicality, the balancing of body and soul.  It is, on some level, an undertaking we all aspire to.

“The thing we seek or pursue in the studio is perfection. It will never be perfect. That’s why we practice every day… Behind the scenes is not pretty at all. We suffer with pain, we sweat and we struggle…”  Yuka does not seem daunted or afraid.  So I ask her: How do you conquer your fears? 

“ I keep encouraging myself and telling myself I can do it.”

Are you ever afraid of giving too much of yourself while dancing? 

“No.  There are an artistic director and ballet mistress to tell me if it is too much. Until then, I will give it everything I’ve got.”

Everything.  How fortunate for her audiences and her students.

Principal Dancer Yuka Iino and former Principal Dancer Ronnie Underwood in OBT’s 2008 production of Christopher Stowell’s Swan Lake. Photo by Ben Kerns.

]]> http://oregonballettheatre.wordpress.com/2013/02/12/the-balancing-of-body-and-soul-a-lesson-in-inspiration/feed/ 1 OBT_1-25-2013_122ver1fil2crpsml obtblog OBT_1-25-2013_122ver1fil2crpsml OBT_1-25-2013_276ver1fil2crpsml OBT - Rehearsals for Christopher Stowell's Swan Lake OBT-SwanLake08--3054 http://oregonballettheatre.wordpress.com/2013/01/31/swan-lakes-flock-has-to-fly-in-perfect-unison-who-makes-it-happen/ http://oregonballettheatre.wordpress.com/2013/01/31/swan-lakes-flock-has-to-fly-in-perfect-unison-who-makes-it-happen/#comments Thu, 31 Jan 2013 17:36:12 +0000 obtblog http://oregonballettheatre.wordpress.com/?p=3660 ]]>

Lisa Kipp. Photo by Joni Kabana.

Audiences and critics often praise OBT’s unison dancing in big ensemble moments. The high quality of OBT’s corps de ballet work is one of Lisa Kipp’s accomplishments as ballet master for the company since the 2004-05 season. Because so many of Swan Lake’s most beloved scenes depend upon a stellar group of swans, it’s a good time to learn more about Lisa and her work as a ballet master.

OBT Ballet Master Lisa Kipp in rehearsal for the 2013 production of Christopher Stowell’s Swan Lake. Photo by Blaine Truitt Covert.

“Ballet Master” is a mysterious job title…what exactly does a ballet master do?

The components of the job include scheduling, teaching, staging (when a ballet exists already, and I either know it because I danced it, or I learn it off a video tape), and assisting a choreographer or stager as they bring a new ballet to the company.

When I arrived at OBT I was totally green. I could teach company class, no problem, and I could stage things, that wasn’t hard. Scheduling was hard at first and always will be hard. It’s a giant puzzle to make the best use of everyone’s time in our two studios.

But to assist a choreographer or stager, to write down a new work or ballet so we will always have it at OBT, I literally did not know anything at first. I knew I was supposed to put something down on a note pad. Francia [Christopher Stowell’s mother Francia Russell, who is a stager for the Balanchine Trust] guided me about the sort of thing I needed to be writing down, and how to organize it.

OBT Ballet Master Lisa Kipp in rehearsal for the 2013 production of Christopher Stowell’s Swan Lake. Photo by Blaine Truitt Covert.

How on earth do you write down a ballet?

It was a big learning curve for me, and it took me a couple of years to get the hang of it. When a stager would come in I would spy on their notes to see what they were doing. Most stagers are pretty generous with their notes, even offering to let me photo-copy them. I eventually came up with my own method.

I usually notate the work by musical phrase, however it’s being counted, and I really write the whole step out, in terminology, what foot, which arm. Not all people do it that exhaustively, but I do. I can’t possibly keep all the ballets I have to deal with in my head. (That’s true of all ballet masters, we deal with such large amounts of material.) I have to be able to go back to a set of notes where I can read them and really know what those phrases are. The way my notes are written, they could probably be useful to someone else too.

A page of notations from Lisa Kipp’s notebook for Christopher Stowell’s Swan Lake

You spend a fair amount of time in front of a screen with headphones on. What are you doing?

I’m notating a ballet from video—I’ve gotten pretty adept at learning a ballet off a tape. It can be fairly tedious. You get used to automatically reversing things.

OBT Ballet Master Lisa Kipp in rehearsal for the 2013 production of Christopher Stowell’s Swan Lake. Photo by Blaine Truitt Covert.

That’s impressive, automatically reversing a whole cast of dancers in a video. Are there other hidden challenges to the job?

Learning to be at the front of a room of adults was hard for me when I started, because I had only worked with kids before. I had to figure out how to be authoritative, to get the job done, yet be personal and respectful of the accomplished adults in the studio.

It’s not enough for me to stand up at the front of the room and command attention. I’m not the boss. I need to give a little bit more to keep the room motivated and interested. The thing I remember the most about ballet masters was everyone thinking they were boring, thinking, “God, is this day ever going to end.” So I try really hard not to be boring. Some days I feel like I’m a circus performer trying to keep everyone engaged. It’s a bit of a performance all the time. It’s kind of an extroverted job and I’m not really extroverted. I might seem that way, but I’m really not. I’m not sure if I’m effective, you’d have to ask a dancer!

OBT Ballet Master Lisa Kipp in rehearsal for the 2013 production of Christopher Stowell’s Swan Lake. Photo by Blaine Truitt Covert.

Right now, your efforts are focused on Swan Lake.

“I really like Swan Lake, I danced it a lot and I think that you feel good doing it. I like the aesthetic of the swans—it’s very feminine and very beautiful. The use of their arms as swans—the port de bras—is pretty unusual and specific, so I talk about that a lot. I try to instill in the corps dancers that although there are 18 of them and they can feel anonymous, they’re really not. “Each one of you is so special, each one of you has to be beautiful.” I like teaching the swans.

The music is very understandable, so that’s not hard, as opposed to some of the very contemporary ballets we do. But there’s a whole bunch of information to get out. There are a lot of formations and spacing involved in the big group dances.

How do you achieve the unity and geometry of the swans?

I did a lot of corps work when I danced at Pacific Northwest Ballet, and I took a lot of pride in doing that well. It was important to me that I knew how to stay in line, that we all watched each other, that we all breathed the music together. Because I did so much corps work I know what it feels like and I think I have some tips on how to make it work.

It’s different from being a principal, where you’re completely focused on what you are doing in that moment. In the corps, you’re focused on that technical aspect of executing the steps but you also have every sense alive, you’re listening, you’re watching, you look out of the sides of your eyes. I say, “You’re like a bug, you can sense everything that’s going on.” We’ve talked a lot about moving as a big symbiotic group. Always looking across to see that you’re the same as the girl across from you, always looking downstage. It’s constant vigilance. Get it right and the swans in Swan Lake are breathtaking.

Do many dancers aspire to be ballet masters when they retire from performing?

I think that some people who envision being ballet masters actually envision coaching, but coaching is really different. With coaching, the dancers already know all the steps and you go in and work on intent, approach. When people find out that they actually have to teach every single step, some of them aren’t so interested. Usually dancers who learn quickly and retain well can be good ballet masters.

Do you end up coaching also?

I coach the corps, but I tread a little bit lightly with principals. I don’t coach solos unless I really know what I’m talking about because it’s a role I danced and I know exactly what it’s supposed to be. I’ll give technical corrections, fix a pirouette, but leave the interpretation up to them.

OBT Ballet Master Lisa Kipp in rehearsal for the 2013 production of Christopher Stowell’s Swan Lake. Photo by Blaine Truitt Covert.

Just before you came to OBT, you worked in the costume shop at Pacific Northwest Ballet. Tell us about that.

I went to school for a year to learn apparel design, with the thought that I would do costuming. I learned how to sew really well; I learned to make patterns. I liked doing that. It was so straightforward. You’d come in, do your project, and move on to the next thing. It was really intense, focused and quiet work. There are elements of the costume shop that I miss.

Being OBT’s ballet master is not the only gigantic job you have in your life. Over the last six years, as a single mom, you adopted two children from India.

I like people to know about my kids—they’re awesome possums! Raj has been here five and a half years, he’s seven. Ashmeena has been here two years, she’s twelve. Raj was born in Bangalore, and Ashmeena was born in Delhi.

I just always knew I would be a mom. My sister adopted three girls, so that was familiar to me. Going into it, I probably wasn’t fully prepared for all this was going to mean, and I think that’s probably just as well. It’s my reality now, so I don’t really know if it’s that much more difficult being a single mom.

Being a ballet master is so output, output, and both of the kids have big boisterous personalities, so sometimes I get really tired. The scheduling is impossible. It’s hard to get them to extracurricular activities. And when OBT is in the theater it’s really challenging.

What brought you to OBT way back in 2004?

Christopher Stowell and I first met at the Pacific Northwest Ballet School in 1981. I danced in Pacific Northwest Ballet, and both of OBT’s predecessor companies—Ballet Oregon and Pacific Ballet Theatre. When Christopher came to OBT, I was directing the ballet department at the School of Spectrum Dance Theater in Seattle and working in the costume shop at PNB at the same time. Christopher was looking for a ballet master, and Mark Zappone [dance costume designer for PNB and many freelance commissions] suggested me to Christopher. It was a good time for me, I was looking for a change, and I was familiar with Portland. I was hired for three months at first and I’m still here.

Any final fun facts about yourself?

I’m a hair-trigger liberal responder on Facebook. That’s my weakness, for sure. I get myself all worked up. And I have a lifetime’s worth of boots. shoes and vintage clothing.

OBT Ballet Master Lisa Kipp’s collection of boots

Left: Principal Dancers Yuka Iino as Odette and Ronnie Underwood as Prince Siegfried in OBT’s 2008 production of Swan Lake. Photo by Ben Kerns. Right: Principal Dancers Alison Roper as Odette and Artur Sultanov as Prince Siegfried in OBT’s 2006 production of Swan Lake. Photo by Blaine Truitt Covert.

Odette: Regal and True

Odette is an innocent. She’s sweet, noble and guileless. She is Queen of the Swans, who, along with her flock, is a victim of Von Rothbart’s evil curse. She is doomed to be a swan by day, and only allowed her humanity from midnight to dawn. Only the love of a man who swears eternal fidelity can break the spell and free her – and she’s putting all her eggs in Prince Siegfried’s basket.

Left: Principal Dancer Yuka Iino as Odile and Guest Artist Ruben Martin as Prince Siegfried in OBT’s 2006 production of Swan Lake. Right: Principal Dancers Alison Roper as Odile and Artur Sultanov as Prince Siegfried in OBT’s 2006 production of Swan Lake. Photos by Blaine Truitt Covert.

Odile: The Seductress

Odile is a vixen. She’s flashy, bewitching and manipulative. She’s magically disguised as Odette, to trick Prince Siegfried into pledging his love to her instead. She doesn’t love Prince Siegfried, but that doesn’t much matter. She’ll do whatever it takes to ruin Odette’s chances at love and freedom – even if it takes 32 fouettés.

Odettes/Odiles Throughout History

Here’s a look at five ballerina’s throughout Swan Lake’s 100+ year history that have danced both roles and helped to make them iconic:

Galina Ulanova as Odette and Odile in the 1930s and 40s.

Cynthia Gregory as Odette, American Ballet Theatre, 1960s. Photo by Bil Leidersdorf. As Odile with Fernando Bujones. Photo by Jack Mitchell.

About Odette/Odile:

“She is a princess of the night; she is all magic, a creature of the imagination.”

- George Balanchine

Natalia Makarova as Odette and Odile in the 1970s and 80s.

“A lyrical drama in dance requiring not only impeccable academic schooling but a special gift for dramatic acting.”

- Natalia Makarova

Svetlana Zakharova as Odette and Odile. Left: The Kirov Ballet. Photo by Natasha Razina. Right: The Bolshoi Ballet, 2004. Photo by I. Zakharkin.

Marianela Nuñez as Odette, and as Odile with Thiago Soares as Prince Siegfried. The Royal Ballet, 2008. Photos by Dee Conway.

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