Tonya Plank's Blog, page 21

Ballroom Kids Win "Live to Dance"

Apparently the young ballroom dance duo, D'Angelo and Amanda, won the first Live to Dance championship last night. Coming in second place was the 11-year-old contemporary / jazz dancer, Kendall Glover, and placing third were the ballet pair, White Tree Fine Art.

Thank you to reader Irina for emailing me about the show's results! You guys, I am so sorry but I've been so crazy busy trying to finish my second novel, get it out, and get the third going. I know I haven't blogged much about ballroom lately – and I'm sorry – it's my passion, it really is! My third novel, by the way, is going to have a good deal of ballroom in it, so I think that's what's been going on with me – all my attentions have been taken with the novels…

Anyway, because of the books and the ballet, I've missed the last three weeks of Live to Dance and am going to have to watch YouTube videos to catch up. I remember not liking the ballroom pair a whole lot, nor Kendall, but loving that break dancer. Too bad he didn't place. I am glad ballet had a showing in the finals though.

I'm off to a reading (Benjamin Hale – can't wait to read The Evolution of Bruno Littlemore!) but hope this weekend to look up some of those YouTube clips so I can see if D'Angelo and Amanda got any better from the last time I saw them.

Thank you to Irina for making me aware of the final results! I promise to get back into the ballroom swing of things soon!

Is Benjamin Millepied a Better Fund-Raiser Than Choreographer?

Thank you to Jeff, who comments frequently here, for pointing me to this article in the NY Times, which most of you have probably already seen. The first page is all gloss and generalities and isn't of much interest to a serious dance audience. I did think it was interesting that this writer, Joshua David Stein, called Millepied a "superstar in the insular world of ballet." Does anyone really consider him a superstar? He's known as being a choreographer who gets lots of commissions, but a superstar? I have to agree that unfortunately the ballet world has become really insular. And it hasn't always been that way, right? What happened? Well, that's the subject for another post.

What I found most interesting about this article (as did Jeff, who emailed me about it) is on the second and third pages where Stein gets into the business of ballet a bit. I've always wondered how Millepied gets so many blasted commissions. I've thought much of his choreography is good and interesting, but much of it is not, and I've thought that that is because he's just working so much. How can you be creative on command like that, creating one ballet after the other every few months? According to this article, Millepied is a master of getting commissions because he's a master of getting people with the means to fund them.

From the article:

His fund-raising prowess owes a debt to the enduring legacy of Mr. Robbins. The Jerome Robbins Trust and Foundation, which is led by Christopher Pennington, underwrites much of Mr. Millepied's work and his inner circle of donors include Robbins-era philanthropic titans like Anne Bass and Arlene Cooper.

But credit should also be given to Mr. Millepied's own assiduous cultivation of donors. William H. Wright II, chairman of the New Combinations Fund at the New York City Ballet, a group of 75 donors who dole out $2 million annually for new works, counts Mr. Millepied as a personal friend. Ira Statfeld, the home furnishings guru and a major dance supporter who met Mr. Millepied at a dinner in East Hampton in 2003, said he would "consider Benjamin a member of our family."

Michele Pesner and her husband, Steven, who is the vice chairman of the Joyce Theater, said they have supported Mr. Millepied "from the very beginning."

The article goes on quote others whom Millepied has wooed, and then quotes dance historians on the history of patronage in ballet:

To be fair, charming patrons is an integral part of ballet, a genre that grew out of court cultures of 16th-century France and Italy. By the 19th century, the backstage of the Paris Opera was a "privileged venue for sexual assignation" between dancers and season ticket holders, wrote Judith Lynne Hanna, a dance historian, in her book, "Dance, Sex and Gender."

Interesting…

And then the article goes on to quote dance insiders who think this is how he gets so many commissions – more because of his ability to charm than actually choreograph.

Over the weekend, I was talking to a friend who's a doctor and also a young patron of ballet, and he brought up the article as well. He said much of medical research is funded the same way – diseases that get the most research are those that are able to attract the wealthiest donors.

I just find it all very interesting…

Sexy Kindle Party Reading

Broadcasting Live with Ustream.TV

So, my reading Thursday evening is now archived on the Reading is Sexy Kindle Party ustream; I embedded it here. I'm the sixth reader on the list – out of eight. The readings were so diverse. The only similarity between us is that we all happened to be women (though the event definitely wasn't excluded to men)! Each of the books seemed to be of very high quality – really the quality of self-published books is not at all what those in traditional publishing seem to want to make it out to be – and the authors were quite adept at reading from their own work, which surprised me – usually authors don't make such good readers Many of the authors have won awards for their writing (either for their books or short stories), some have been published in anthologies, some have MFA degrees, and some are Amazon bestsellers.

The authors I read with were:

Karen Cantwell, reading from her comical mystery, Kindleboards), and for carting me between the Soundry and the Vienna metro station! So nice to meet several Kindleboards authors I've been chatting online with for months now. Can't wait for the next event!

Reading is Sexy Kindle Party!

This Thursday night I'll be participating in the first ever (that I know of anyway) Kindle party. There will be a total of eight e-book authors, including acclaimed women's lit writers Karen Cantwell and L.B. Gschwandtner. Audience members are encouraged to come with their e-readers, though it's not necessary to have one. (I think most of us have print versions of our books published as well.)

It'll be held at the Soundry, in Vienna Virginia, but will also be live-streamed online! So you can watch from the comfort of your home, and participate in a live chat (format is similar to the Guggenheim's Giselle live stream & chat). It's from 7-10 p.m. EST on Thursday night, February 3rd. Go here for the ustream channel. There will also be a discussion of e-readers and e-publishing in general. So, tune in (or come if you're in the DC area) if you're interested in any of those things.

This is the first time I will have read from my book post-publication, so I'm really excited about it. I'm also really excited about all of these live-streamed events!

For the Love of Duke

On Friday night Susan Stroman's For the Love of Duke premiered at NYCB. Photos above by Paul Kolnik. Top: Tiler Peck, Sara Mearns, and Amar Ramasar; bottom: Mearns and Ramasar. Stroman is primarily a Broadway choreographer (I think her most famous work is probably Contact), and it shows both in her ballets' strengths and limitations.

For the Love of Duke is divided into two parts. In the first, entitled "Frankie and Johnny … and Rose," Tiler Peck and Amar Ramasar are Johnny and Rose, a couple in love. They perform a lovely lyrical pas de deux. Then along struts Sara Mearns – Frankie – and Johnny's attentions are completely lost on her, to the disappointment of Rose. Johnny and Rose are snuggling on a bench together, and when Frankie comes prancing along, Johnny pushes Rose right off the bench, behind it, as if to hide her. Then he does a snazzier dance with Mearns / Frankie, she disappears, and he's back with Rose … until Frankie comes strutting along again. And so on. At one point, Rose becomes the seductress, and Johnny pushes Frankie off the back of the bench. It was cute, and everyone danced spectacularly, but it got a bit old to me after a while.

The second part – "Blossom Got Kissed" – Stroman had actually choreographed before, creating it for NYCB in 1999. I liked this one better. Both parts, by the way, are choreographed to Duke Ellington and Billy Strayhorn, which is where the title of the whole comes from. Anyway, "Blossom" begins with a bunch of girls all dressed in sassy, jazzy red sitting on a bench tapping their feet to Ellington's rhythm. Along comes Savannah Lowery as Blossom, dressed in a frilly ballet tutu. She sits alongside them on the bench and tries to tap with them. But she has no rhythm and is horribly off. Then they stand and do a jazzy dance, and, again, she tries to join, but just can't get the hang of it. She is simply too classical ballet. Lowery was hilarious though and it was funny to see her continually try to get the rhythm and technique of jazz dance right by taking a foot and pounding it down flat on the floor. Then, a group of tux-clad men come along and do some swing dancing with the red-clad women. Blossom again tries hard to fit in but just can't. Finally, a musician in the band (which was onstage), in the person of Robert Fairchild, comes out from the back of the stage, orders the music changed, and does a sweet lyrical ballet pas de deux with her.

I feel like I've seen "Blossom" before because Lowery's hilarious flat-footedness looked familiar. I liked it better than the first part because to me it was funnier, and the story went a little further.

I think Stroman is very good at creating a story through dance, and that's what I like about her. You can tell she's not really a ballet choreographer though. Compared to the first two pieces of the night – Ratmansky's Concerto DSCH and Wheeldon's Polyphonia – the actual dance just wasn't that rich. Still, I think she complemented the program well. It can never hurt to include in an evening of ballet a cute narrative dance with music that's not usual ballet fare.

As always, I loved Concerto DSCH. Ratmansky was in the audience. I felt the music was played a bit too fast though (conductor was Ryan McAdams, Elaine Chelton the pianist). It looked like Ashley Bouder had a slight mishap, though I'm not sure because I was busy watching Joaquin DeLuz do a sequence of crazy fast steps into a somersault at the speed of light. Andrew Veyette again replaced Gonzalo Garcia, who I am really missing. I hope he's okay. Veyette is doing a fine job as one of the two playful guys in blue, but there's this repeating series of throws – where they each kind of propel the other into the air, and I love how Garcia always gets such height when he bounces off the other two.

Tyler Angle replaced Benjamin Millepied, and did wonderfully. I always notice things with Tyler that I haven't noticed before – like how when he and the girl in green (Wendy Whelan) make their entrance, he's spinning her around and around, and she looks like she's hanging on to him for dear life. It kind of sets the tone of their relationship. I always notice the music much more when he dances as well.

Christopher Wheeldon's Polyphonia is definitely one of my favorites of his. I love the musicality of it, and the originality of the combinations. It's set to ten piano pieces by Ligeti, who, the program notes, developed micropolyphony – a type of music involving sustained dissonant chords that shift slowly over time. You can really see that "micropolyphony" in the dancing, as the sets of dancers (eight all together, divided into four pairs) begin dancing together in a line but each pair doing something completely different. Then, they eventually come together and dance in unison, but then they drift apart again later. There's some very clever, almost humorous partnering throughout, but particularly in the second movement, Arc-en-ciel, Etudes pour piano, danced by Maria Kowroski and Jared Angle. I haven't seen this ballet as often as I would like to. I was going to say I wish he'd include this one more often in Morphoses programs, and then I remembered…

Sample Sunday: Wedding Belle

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For this week's #SampleSunday, here's an excerpt from Swallow's chapter eight, titled "Father Christian." For a synopsis of the whole book, go here.

I made it to the boutique only ten minutes late. Speed walking toward the glass-doored entrance, I saw Francie inside looking out, peering up and down the street, pacing back and forth, perfectly steady on her six-inch, stiletto-heeled, candy red pumps, her flawlessly coiffed strawberry mane bouncing girlishly with each pirouette. Oh, I pray I'm Francie at fifty, I thought.  New York women never get old, I swear. When our eyes met, she tapped her French-manicured fingernail on the face of her watch, then shook her finger at me in mock reprobation.

"Sorry sorry," I mouthed, pushing open the door.

"It's all right, it's not like there's anyone else here." She stood in fifth ballet position and extended her left arm gracefully toward the middle of the store, her frown at odds with her delicate pose. "What is it about getting married here? No one in this city seems to do it."

"That's because New York women are all so independent and sophisticated, like a certain fashion maven I know," I gushed.

"Yeah yeah yeah. Perpetual singlehood has been a real friggin' joy." She fluttered her hand about dismissively. "Come on, let's find you the Audrey dress of your dreams, skinny girl," she said, pinching my arm. "Geez Soph, you really are losing weight. Look at these little twigs."

"I've lost twenty pounds," I said. I knew it was getting to be a lot; another ten pounds and I'd weigh 100. But truth be told, I felt like I was really beginning to fit in in New York. It looked rather elegant, if not downright trendy, to be thin here. Still, I knew I couldn't lose a whole lot more. It had to stop at some point.

"Shit, Soph. What's your secret? How come you're keepin' it from the old lady?"

"Hey, I did tell you; you just weren't listening."

"Huh?"

"The throat ball. The 'ball' — remember?"

She had the loopiest smile I think I'd ever seen.

"Okay, after we're done here, we'll go out to eat," I said. "Then you just imagine a big ole ball in your throat and you choking to death whenever you try to swallow. Beats the hell out of a diet any day." I couldn't believe what I just heard myself say.

"Shit, Soph, you're starting to sound, you know, a little fucked up," she said, echoing my thought.

"Hello, ladies." Marlena, with whom I had my appointment, appeared as if out of thin air.  She was sixtyish, immaculately groomed, with snowy whitish-blonde hair, and a full face of makeup that — unlike on me — made her look polished rather than fake. Already I felt like a street urchin with my shiny nose, flyaway hair, and now oversized, dowdy suit.

"You must be Ms. Hegel," she smiled, cupping my hand between her palms. I always felt so uneasy in places like Saks and Bergdorf, like it was so obvious to all the salespeople that I didn't belong anywhere near the place. Funny, I wasn't feeling that so much with Marlena though.

"Um, yes." I tried to return her smile, not anywhere near as elegantly.

"And you've brought your big sister with you. Excellent idea," she said, extending a hand and smile to Francie.

"Basically," Francie said, giving her a cursory New York handshake.

"Now you tell me what kind of dress it is you're looking for, dear," Marlena began, eyes now focused solidly on me. "Would you like to look at the catalog, or do you have something in mind?" Something about her was so familiar, like she was an old dear nanny or governess or something. Except of course I never had such a person in my life.

"Mmm…" I looked at the four huge tomes on the counter. They looked far too intimidating; we'd have been there all day if I started with them. "I think I'll start with the actual gowns."

"That's perfectly fine," she sang, with the sweetest of smiles. "Let me just tell you a little about my job here at Bettina's Bridal. I'm not here to dictate what you should wear. You brides today are more sophisticated, more mature, far more educated than you were in my day," she chimed in a fantastical voice that sounded like she'd been around for centuries. "You have your careers, you know who you are and what you want out of life, not to mention out of a dress," she laughed. "You're not to be bossed around by your mothers, your sisters…" she gave a nod and wink to Francie at this, "certainly not your future husband. This is obviously your most important day. This is the statement that you're making to all your friends and family, to the world, of who you are." She positively glowed.

Francie rolled her eyes. Argh, can you say, 'jaded New Yorker,' I thought.

When I looked back at Marlena she radiated a fairy godmother smile, and I felt a tear starting down my face. I was so embarrassed I could've just fallen to the floor and rolled myself up into a little fetal ball. What was with my total lack of control over my tear glands?

"Oh dear. Would you like a glass of water?" she asked, grabbing a tissue.

"No, no." I felt like the consummate ass.

"It's normal, you know, this is quite an emotional time." She stood smiling down at me, her hands folded in front of her, her long eyelashes glistening, her cheeks glowing.

"Okay." I took a deep breath, pulling it together. "I have an idea of what I want. Something basic, not really frilly, just simple, but you know, a fabric with a nice sheen." I had no idea what the hell I was saying. 'Nice sheen' – what was that? Such the couture dyslexic was I.

"Sophisticated, elegant, you know, Grace Kelly, Audrey Hepburn. Maybe matte satin or Duchess silk, possibly organza. I think she wants to go with a simple A-line silhouette, natural or dropped waist bodice, attached chapel train, very little if any embellishments." Thank you, Francie, I thought. Whatever you just said.

"Let's start here." Marlena showed me a simple satin dress with beautiful beaded buttons trailing down the back. Only problem with that one was a monster bow right on the butt — made it look like her bottom was a big present to the groom.

"Kind of makes her look like a present," I said to Francie.

"Well, you are a present, my darling," she said.

"No, like an object, I mean. Like she has no personhood."

"Ugh." Francie rolled her eyes again. Francie didn't have the most developed feminist consciousness, I kept forgetting. I mean she did, but she just wasn't schooled in feminist theory, didn't have the jargon down. Not that I wanted her to though; she was far, far more interesting the way she was!

"Then there's this nice simple organza ball gown." Marlena next showed me one with a lacy bodice, cinched at the waist by another bow that led to a poofy floor-length skirt. This one reminded me of the ballet dress I wore for a recital at Phoenix Symphony Hall right before Daddy left. And the cinching bow recalled a bit of the Barium Swallow ordeal. Uh-uh, I shook my head. Far too much baggage contained in one dress.

Then she led me to a plain, but soft and silky, form-fitting gown. But this one had underwire cups stitched on the outside of the fabric.

"Ooh la la, sexy," Francie said.

"Yeah, for the slut bride," I whispered to her.

Francie rolled her eyes again. "You have body issues," she said to me under her breath, her voice trailing off at the end, indicating this was a continuing issue that she intended eventually to cure.

"I don't have body issues, and I am not wearing a bra on the outside of my dress to my wedding," I whispered back, smiling over at Marlena, who was looking a bit weary. I was being too picky. I decided I'd try on the next one — which happened to be very pretty, with pearl buttons tip-toeing down the back. It's just that the buttons didn't start practically till the waist-line; I had no idea how the thing stayed up and I knew I'd be worrying about it nonstop.

Before I knew it, we'd spent an hour and a half and I hadn't tried on a single thing.

"Are you sure you don't want to take a little peek at the catalog?" Marlena asked with a hint of hopelessness. Francie, ever the New Yorker, didn't bother trying to hide her annoyance.

"Come on, come on, come on, Soph. We don't have all day. Nothing is going to look right on the hanger. You gotta see it on to see how it hangs on your body."

Okay, okay. I told Marlena I'd try the first two — the butt-present and the issue-laden ones. She looked ecstatic.

The dresses on display were all in size 10, so Marlena called her assistant, Ruiza, to accompany me into the dressing room. I felt weird undressing in front of her — especially when she motioned for me to remove my bra. She helped me into the butt one, then taped, tucked, tied, zipped and pinned me up. About twenty minutes later, I emerged.

"Wow, very very nice," Marlena said, walking me toward the three-way mirror.

"Oooh, look at those gorgeous tiny arms," Francie squealed, squeezing my shoulder.  "Hon, really, another ten or fifteen pounds and you could be a petite model."

Oh geez. I laughed.  As I stood in front of the mirror, Francie walked around me gazing at the dress. Marlena patted at the skirt. It actually looked quite lovely. I was transformed. Imagine that, mousy me.

"You really do look beautiful, hon," Francie said from behind, to my reflection in the mirror. Then Marlena turned me to my side, and I saw the blasted bow. It was pinker than it initially appeared, and strikingly different than the rest of the dress. I looked like a baboon in heat.

"I don't know. I really don't like the bow."

"It can be altered," Marlena and Francie said simultaneously. Yeah, but that would totally increase the price, I thought. But I didn't dare say it, of course.

"I'll try the other one." I went back into the fitting room with Ruiza, underwent the process again with the cinch-waisted Giselle gown. Hmmm, could get used to someone dressing and primping me, I thought. Like Scarlet O'Hara. It was kind of nice, even if initially embarrassing.

After she finished, I headed to the three-way. Ooh, this one looked quite lovely. A little poofy and princessy, but also chic and sophisticated with a more grown-up elegance than had appeared from the hanger. The bow was sweet, much smaller than the other, the same color as the rest of the dress, and was a little off to the side, so not so obnoxious. It was beautiful; I could definitely do with this one. However, one ever so little necessity… had to figure out a way of finding out the price. Of course, there were no tags on anything. I hated it when stores did that.  But I guess I should've expected it with a place like this. I hated having to ask.

"That one's a great deal," Marlena said right then, as if reading my mind. "Quite a steal at only $5995."

Yikes. I was hoping to pay a third of that, at most.

"That's great," Francie said, nodding at me. I thought I detected a wink as well. "Okay, Soph, off to a good start. We got one possibility. But before you get hooked, hon, let's look at a couple more." She turned back to Marlena. "The organza and lace might make it just a bit too frilly. What about something with a little less embellishment."

"Sure," Marlena smiled, a bit pityingly, I thought, as if she knew exactly what Francie was hinting at. She led us over to one of the first racks in the store — exactly where all of the silly, frilly, i.e., cheap, stuff was located.

I tried and tried. But nothing looked as good as the $5995. Just as I was about to leave to think over my too-expensive Giselle-before-Daddy-left dress, I remembered the catalog and, ever so stupidly, decided to take a peek.

And of course therein I saw it: the gown that simply stood so far above the rest it was pitiful. The satin-y fabric wrapped around the wearer's body regally, like a protective sheath. And it had this really extraordinary lace framing device. There were two wide strands of intricately-patterned lace extending the length of the bodice. They originated at the waist, then rose up and above the top of the dress where they fanned out into two pleats flowering just over the top, highlighting the wearer's chest, and framing her torso. At the waist, they met with several more lace lines that wound around from the back, and at the hip, all lace strands bunched up and overflowed into more pleats that formed sequins, which cascaded all the way down to the ballgown's train.

The wearer of the gown was a true queen. And, bizarrely, here that wearer was the supermodel from the Vogue ad in the museum exhibit; the one Stephen had said looked like a "Holocaust victim."

Only odd thing was the gown was rose-colored. I'd never thought of a wedding gown in any color other than white.

"Beautiful, isn't it? That's one of our Lacroixs," Marlena said, over my shoulder.

"It's gorgeous. But it's red. It is a wedding dress, right?"

"Oh yes. The most popular color right now in Europe is red. Brides here are a little more conservative. But if you want to make a statement…"

"Do you have it?" I asked. I knew it was probably way too expensive but I really wanted to try it just for kicks.

"Yes…," she said, her voice inflecting at the end. She looked hesitant.

"Can I try it?"

Marlena smiled weakly. "Sure. It's just that, well, this one has a great deal more embellishments than… Of course you can, of course, dear." She started to walk away; I followed.  "It's in the back. It'll take some time to get," she called over her shoulder.

"Hey ready yet, Soph? I'm getting hungry," Francie called out, posing in front of a mirror with a pearl-white veil draped over her face.

"I'm just going to try one more."

"One more! I'm really really getting hungry here, Soph." I hated it when Francie got pissy.

"It'll just be a sec. Please?" I whined like the child Marlena'd just spent all afternoon trying to make me feel I wasn't. Francie scowled at me, returning the veil to its mannequin. Just then Marlena returned with Ruiza, the two of them together carrying a veritable body bag.

"What's in there?" Francie asked, annoyance metamorphosing into intrigue.

"Here it is," Marlena chirped, as she, Ruiza, and yet another assistant all maneuvered it out of the bag. Once I saw it, I understood why this required a group effort. It was simply huge.  This time it took a full forty minutes to get into it, but not because there was a lot of taping and pinning on Ruiza's part: believe it or not, unlike all the other floor models, this one was a size four. It took so long because there were so many pleats, sequins, ties, clasps, and buttons for poor Ruiza to figure out.

"Oh my god," Francie shrieked when I walked out, "You look …"

"Yes, you do," Marlena echoed, even though Francie hadn't actually come up with an adjective. "It's tight, but, wow, not all that much."

"The color is gorgeous, Soph," Francie said, brushing the train.

"You think it's okay that it's not white and all?" I asked.

"Shut up and look at yourself!" Francie whiplashed me toward the three-way.

When I looked in the mirror, I saw someone else. I was like royalty, someone very special, even beautiful. There's no such thing as natural beauty, I thought. Designers are the makers of reality, and you just have to be skinny enough to squeeze into the alternate universe they've created for you. I had no idea what Christian Lacroix looked like, but I imagined him as this posh but avuncular man plucking at the lace, smoothing out the sides, telling me what a perfect fit it was, how beautiful and smart and charming I was; how I was the perfect wearer.

Suddenly I began hearing my mother's voice. "Who do you think you are? Some movie star, some Arabian princess?" The same words she used when I'd received my letter from Yale and told her the cost of tuition, and my father went ballistic. A place for high-class people, deserving people, not me.

"Oh Sophier, you're absolutely mesmerizing." Thank goodness for Francie's New York voice trumpeting over Mom's. I was getting married now. I was a law school graduate. I was an adult. What was wrong with me? "So teeny tiny. Oh you're so beautiful, darling. You look just like the model. It's so so SO you!"

"Stephen says that model is a glorified Holocaust victim," I couldn't help but blurt out.

"UGH." Francie screamed, throwing up her hands. "Fff…" she began, then saw my discomfort at her 'free form expressions' in Marlena's presence and altered her tone, somewhat. "Then, my dear, you are a beautiful fucking glorified Holocaust victim," Francie whispered to me, lips pursed tightly over teeth.

"I need to know the price of this one," I found myself again blurting out, too needy now to care how poor I appeared. Marlena smiled, pityingly again. She had an answer that I really didn't need to know.

Photo above of Christian Lacroix and model from Independent UK.

NYCB Swan Lake Casting Is Up & There's an Added Performance!

New York City Ballet has decided to add an additional performance of Swan Lake to its SL run. The added performance will now take place Friday, February 11th, at 8 p.m. It will star Sara Mearns – yes!!!!!!! and will replace that evening's scheduled performance of mixed repertoire. The company decided to reschedule for the additional performance because of overwhelming demand this year: all of the regularly scheduled performances are virtually sold out at this point. Mearns will also be dancing the first regularly scheduled performance, the Sunday February 13th matinee. During both performances, her Siegfried will be Jared Angle. Casting hasn't yet been announced for the rest of the run but you know I will post it here the second it is! There will be nine SL performances total, continuing through February 26th.

Go here to buy tickets.

Above photo taken from here.

"Dance On" YouTube Channel Launches

There's a new YouTube channel called Dance On. They produce weekly videos summing up or reviewing what happened in dance that week. Looks like it's focused on popular dance – dance on TV, in the movies, and in music videos. I haven't had a chance to watch all of their videos but embedded their promotional one above and am linking to their YouTube channel so you guys can check it out for yourselves.

New San Francisco-Based Ballet Blog, Odette's Ordeal, Launching

Here's a new ballet blog to add to your list of daily reads. It's written by Teri McCollum, who's a dedicated San Francisco Ballet-goer, so it's largely based on that company and other dance goings on in San Fran. I've been subscribing to Ms. McCollum's pre-launch emails for a while and can say she's an excellent writer who comes up with lots of interesting stories. So, welcome to the ballet blogosphere, "Odette"!

Last Week at New York City Ballet

Last week I went to two performances of NYCB – opening night and Thursday night's "See the Music" program – and to two of the free all-day Balanchine events on Saturday. First, I'll talk about the last two since I found them so informative. The free studio talk on Saturday afternoon – Balanchine's birthday – was moderated by Sean Lavery (former NYCB principal dancer, now ballet master), and included Sterling Hyltin (in Paul Kolnik photo above with Robert Fairchild), Chase Finlay, and Jenifer Ringer. Lavery asked the dancers to talk about their first Balanchine ballets, their favorites, and what drew them to NYCB. Hyltin named as her favorite Duo Concertant (pictured above) which I'd just seen her dance on opening night. She said she liked the syncopated movement, the he goes and I go kind of back and forth movement conversation with her partner, and with the musicians. I really liked it too. The violinist and pianist are onstage (the music is Stravinsky), and I like the interaction between the dancers and the musicians, and between the two dancers, and I like the sharp, angular movement. She seemed particularly animated when I saw it. I love Robert Fairchild and think he's such a sharp, masculine mover with a presence that commands your attention without meaning to – he kind of reminds me of a less cocky Ethan Stiefel – but she seemed so happy to be dancing this piece that she stood out to me more. It was nice to hear her talk about it.

But what I really loved was the School of American Ballet class taught by Peter Martins. He interacted cutely with the students, particularly "Cyrus," (at least I think that was his name…) a tall, long-limbed young man who I think will soon be in the company. Cyrus didn't always do everything perfectly (at least in Martins's eyes) but he had a charming presence and a great leading-man physique and you can tell he works hard.

Martins had the class demonstrate ballet basics – beginning with the five positions, and they showed us a perfect fifth position (with the toes of the front foot touching the heel of the other and vice versa). More interestingly, he had the class show us the difference between a Balanchine hand and a classical ballet hand. I'd always noticed there was a difference but couldn't figure it out exactly. God gave us five fingers, Balanchine had said, so we shouldn't hide two of them. The Balanchine hand shows all five fingers, the classical ballet one only three (with the ring finger and pinky held so that they are hidden from view behind the middle finger).

Martins also had the students show us how Balanchine's fourth position differed from others'. In Balanchine's the back leg is straight; in all others' the back leg is bent. Martins didn't go into any functional explanation for this – just said "here, we think it looks better." But I thought about it and thought, wow, it must be hard to take off in a jump for example with the back leg straight. And then I realized that's partly why Balanchine's choreography always looks so fluid, like one step leading right into another, without a lot of stopping to build up to a big athletic feat – a big jump or series of turns. Other companies – like the Russians, like the Bolshoi – are all about preparing so that you can do something astounding. So they're all about the building up.

This was mentioned in the studio talk as well. Lavery also talked about how fluid Balanchine's movement was, and how, for example, in a lift, a guy would pick up a girl, then take two steps, and put her down rather than walk all over stage with her hoisted above his head. Balanchine wanted her to come up, then down right again, because that was more fluid, rather than have her head bobbing around up there while the guy was running all around with her.

Martins also demonstrated the bows. At City Ballet, he said, we just do them as such, and the girls did a little curtsy with the back leg slightly bent, without going down on one knee. Making fun of the dramatic Swan Lake bows, Martins went all the way down on one knee, exclaiming, "Yes, yes, I know I'm good!!!" while putting his head down, forehead nearly touching the floor, and raising his arms up in back of him like wings, fingers pointed toward the ceiling. It was hilarious.

Anyway, here are a couple more photos of opening night:

Above: Ashley Bouder in Valse-Fantaisie, and below, the cast, including Andrew Veyette, in the same (all photos by Paul Kolnik)

I liked Balanchine's Valse-Fantaisie (Veyette replaced Joaquin DeLuz – but don't know why because DeLuz danced Concerto DSCH two nights later) but I really loved the first of the evening, Walpurgisnacht Ballet. I'd never seen Walpurgisnacht before and it's funny but I always seem to love the Balanchine ballets that are the least often performed. This was really beautiful. It's from Gounod's Faust, and features a group of women (and only one man – here Charles Askegard) in deep red dresses, their hair down in the second half as the music increases in tempo so that there's almost kind of a hedonistic madness in the mood – and the footwork is so intensely complicated and fast fast fast. Wendy Whelan even made a tiny little flub, which I've never seen her do before. Crazy! And breathtaking!

And the evening ended with The Four Temperaments. I've said before and I'll complain again that I still don't understand why everyone goes on about how brilliant this one is. To me, there are supposed to be four temperaments, and the ballet is divided accordingly into four variations after the theme: melancholic, sanguinic, phlegmatic, and choleric. But they all seem to be the same to me. The dance seems one-note throughout so that after the first variation, I'm waiting for it to end. I'll keep seeing it though, perhaps performed by a variety of companies if I have the chance, and will keep looking for the nuances…

"See the Music" night opened with Faycal Karoui's discussion of Mozartiana, Tchaikovsky's homage to / riff on Mozart, which made me appreciate Tchaikovsky even more. Then that piece was danced – by Maria Kowroski, Daniel Ulbricht, and Tyler Angle. Tyler stood out to me. As always, he dances with so much meaning, so much intention, and so much expansiveness. He's a really beautiful dancer.

Then came Ratmansky's Concerto DSCH, danced by Wendy Whelan, Ashley Bouder, Joaquin DeLuz, Andrew Veyette (replacing this time Gonzalo Garcia), and Benjamin Millepied. Oh, Natalie Portman was there, albeit late – she came in with a friend after Karoui's lecture and right before Mozartiana was performed. Then, she left right after Concerto DSCH, after Millepied was done performing, and before the last piece. I thought it was a shame she missed Sara Mearns in the last dance, but a Twitter friend said she had a movie premiere that night, so I guess she needed to leave early for that.

Anyway, as usual, Millepied did not stand out to me, and I couldn't stop thinking of seeing Tyler Angle in that role before and the way he lunges romantically toward the main girl, making it clear how much he yearns for her. Millepied's knees nearly touch the ground in his deep steps toward her and it just looks like a dance step, not like anything evoking a specific emotion. As always I loved Bouder and DeLuz in the fast, playfully firtatious three-some part. I missed Garcia – where is he? I hope not injured! – but thought Veyette did a fine job in his stead.

And the evening ended brilliantly with Sara Mearns and Charles Askegard dancing the ballet leads in Balanchine's Cortege Hongrois, while Rebecca Krohn and Sean Suozzi just as brilliantly danced the folksy Hungarian leads. I really love that dance and it made me all the more eager to see Mearns in Swan Lake!

On both nights, I went with my friend, author Maria Mutsuki Mockett. She writes an author blog but has been attending the ballet much more frequently and is now blogging a lot about ballet as well. She's an excellent writer, so please check out her blog!