tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69619875838594761652024-03-18T02:59:40.825-07:00And Another Thing...Where do we note our flashes of inspiration? Our crushes? The meaning behind our experiences? The connections between life and love and art? This is where I put mine. Sit down, have some tea, let's chat. -- Marcie SillmanRosiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16810327484544197223noreply@blogger.comBlogger159125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961987583859476165.post-71769410260663190022023-04-25T15:00:00.002-07:002023-04-25T15:00:51.920-07:00The Unstoppable Amanda Morgan<p> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkFSMFgHRxVucsHcePAyAIsbQcephz6ZLWbbyIEGyhCSGEECaka9eufo7o7Bsyt4J1NqiQZ6t1Fu9WVbmXYi3jZyechR05FNew26Tt1x7DPJbKFNIgCFGd1Rfe9thdLK94VmESGtYUOd-DhnEBlg59zUc1qrxxVJz3BTbxsp0UUT_cuCuetjdlzzTK/s2048/image.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1365" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkFSMFgHRxVucsHcePAyAIsbQcephz6ZLWbbyIEGyhCSGEECaka9eufo7o7Bsyt4J1NqiQZ6t1Fu9WVbmXYi3jZyechR05FNew26Tt1x7DPJbKFNIgCFGd1Rfe9thdLK94VmESGtYUOd-DhnEBlg59zUc1qrxxVJz3BTbxsp0UUT_cuCuetjdlzzTK/w426-h640/image.png" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amanda Morgan<br />photo @ Kenya Shakoor</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Amanda Morgan is having a moment.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">More accurately, she’s having a year of moments: from last
summer’s grant to fund a series of open-air dance performances in Seattle
parks, to her promotion to the rank of Soloist at Pacific Northwest Ballet last September, to
her upcoming Seattle Project show, <i>Chapters</i>, at Northwest Film Forum.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I got to thinking about Amanda last weekend at a performance of PNB’s <i>A
Midsummer Night’s Dream</i>. She was dancing the role of
Hippolyta; in the first act she—accompanied by a pack of dogs—leaps around the stage with
a golden crossbow in her hand. (I don’t recall this particular character in Shakespeare’s
original text, but as one former ballerina told me ‘(choreographer) George
Balanchine liked to make roles for tall women.’) <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb5mE_Z4a4gER7bdikqX7kpAK3j3hQk8FUGqqbKMHWImh3Tn50xt7soFXzu3LfCNfGmYdu-ge--fzJUXTlq1lFqx0NQW1Vq4RUzVVJJOtuQHQnYOqlgn-Gwkr7FNM0LDxy32Bhs88lEAV2K4a4H0RuOIRuTyeypdMhK-ZoLsgpPEYhYwKU06B853i9/s3300/MSNDBckstg%20230%20(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3300" data-original-width="2201" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb5mE_Z4a4gER7bdikqX7kpAK3j3hQk8FUGqqbKMHWImh3Tn50xt7soFXzu3LfCNfGmYdu-ge--fzJUXTlq1lFqx0NQW1Vq4RUzVVJJOtuQHQnYOqlgn-Gwkr7FNM0LDxy32Bhs88lEAV2K4a4H0RuOIRuTyeypdMhK-ZoLsgpPEYhYwKU06B853i9/w426-h640/MSNDBckstg%20230%20(1).jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amanda as Hippolyta in George Balanchine's <i>A Midsummer Night's Dream</i><br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Watching Amanda unfold those long, LONG, legs of hers as she
jeted into the wings, I got to thinking how far she’s come in the years that
I’ve been watching her dance.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I first met Amanda in 2018, two years after she joined PNB
as an apprentice. At the time she was making a dance for the company’s
Professional Division students to perform at their annual spring Next Step
performance. She wasn’t much older than 22.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Of course, I’d seen her onstage before that. She’s over
5’ 10”, so even in a ballet company that’s had its share of tall dancers, her
height is distinctive. Not only that. At the time, Amanda was the only Black
woman in the company, so of course you noticed her onstage.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgebK14jG6WhNYtqA26txC_ip4y-eIOO8FZPUZXcVcXJXoVStZoXavBpm9z1q8NSj4HJX6FDs5VHZGcpWCN8NXDaEayRH-TVWtYzemIZ-E69ZenXwG9gUF8OEb8TiLLNElV8KafjBMSqVsQPxMPQbOryDbIWZU6-Ymf3EOAGuRAT9qrUwWUJ95LCo9F/s1700/MF_Ballet01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1163" data-original-width="1700" height="438" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgebK14jG6WhNYtqA26txC_ip4y-eIOO8FZPUZXcVcXJXoVStZoXavBpm9z1q8NSj4HJX6FDs5VHZGcpWCN8NXDaEayRH-TVWtYzemIZ-E69ZenXwG9gUF8OEb8TiLLNElV8KafjBMSqVsQPxMPQbOryDbIWZU6-Ymf3EOAGuRAT9qrUwWUJ95LCo9F/w640-h438/MF_Ballet01.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amanda Morgan in class at PNB<br />photo @ Megan Farmer for KUOW radio</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Over the years I’ve wondered about her ballet future. She’d
once mentioned to me that she, herself, was unclear about where her artistic
path would take her. I think she felt a bit outside the white ballet world.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">In 2019, Amanda founded the Seattle Project, a multi-arts
nonprofit that would feature work by BIPOC and queer creators, including
herself. When the pandemic hit and PNB was sidelined for months, Amanda
poured her energies into making her own work. The summer of 2020 saw her
collaborate with Nia-Amina Minor on a film for <a href="https://www.theseattleproject.org/musings">Seattle Dance Collective, </a><i><a href="https://www.theseattleproject.org/musings">Musings.</a><o:p></o:p></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2t_vIc09q1FEEVmwF_ptDugLYc9VgCIzC7a0cEZYARNiRWGpV-6D2cQoaJ1yjRO9sB82Jxb9Bp-Lux1s776NB4HdDhCZQDZ9x_rYp6H-eIbL00l_NLMkaAlpfqgisTOwp1N6oRv5Gh_L3SFQ6k0QkIEzFyBOpLwHqXmwIR4KrnWA4IOgZALdbs-dN/s3300/Giselle2AJA%200054.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3300" data-original-width="2593" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2t_vIc09q1FEEVmwF_ptDugLYc9VgCIzC7a0cEZYARNiRWGpV-6D2cQoaJ1yjRO9sB82Jxb9Bp-Lux1s776NB4HdDhCZQDZ9x_rYp6H-eIbL00l_NLMkaAlpfqgisTOwp1N6oRv5Gh_L3SFQ6k0QkIEzFyBOpLwHqXmwIR4KrnWA4IOgZALdbs-dN/w502-h640/Giselle2AJA%200054.jpg" width="502" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amanda as Myrtha, Queen of the Wilis in PNB's 2023 production of <i>Giselle</i><br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><i><br /></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Since Amanda’s PNB promotion last fall, I’ve watched her
take on new ballet challenges. Perhaps the toughest is my favorite role
in <i>Giselle</i>; Myrtha, Queen of the Wilis. Myrtha and her band of jilted
women—all dead--haunt the forest after dark. The role is both technically and
dramatically challenging and it was a thrill to see Amanda perform it on successfully.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">She was a standout in Crystal Pite’s <i>The Seasons’ Canon</i>
last November, and although I didn’t see it, she also debuted as the Sugar Plum
Fairy in Balanchine’s <i>Nutcracker</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Ql1Mb5vs6e2QrX9-tiCPimkSo6yia_HhFwcBR6Y2bcbybrdcd9a1B8Y6Umx-zPMYTqx0izUEBliQVHfQLJHv4OwXwuqTNV18dXxhx45o4xqUcVXLYVxPdzX9Aqd7kiax9B29W10_7n3jGNeKxvTs7_jH6iKZw2OJO8vde4_sJk1rAm83M09WTzgB/s3300/Rep2.22%20224.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2252" data-original-width="3300" height="436" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Ql1Mb5vs6e2QrX9-tiCPimkSo6yia_HhFwcBR6Y2bcbybrdcd9a1B8Y6Umx-zPMYTqx0izUEBliQVHfQLJHv4OwXwuqTNV18dXxhx45o4xqUcVXLYVxPdzX9Aqd7kiax9B29W10_7n3jGNeKxvTs7_jH6iKZw2OJO8vde4_sJk1rAm83M09WTzgB/w640-h436/Rep2.22%20224.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amanda, center, with PNB company members in Crystal Pite's<br /><i>The Seasons' Canon</i>. Photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">With all these new roles to tackle, you could excuse
Amanda for letting her own choreography slide. Instead, she’s been working on
her new piece, <i>Chapters</i>. The project explores the intersection of Blackness and
femininity, as well as personal history, and features work by five self-identified Black femme artists:
Amanda, Nia-Amina Minor, Akoiya Harris, Kenya Shakoor and PNB company member
Ashton Edwards.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">[A word about Ashton, who’s been a rising force since
joining the ballet company as an apprentice in 2021. We’ve seen Ashton in an
array of works: pointe roles in the big ballets, a fabulous duet with Luther
DeMeyer in Justin Peck’s sneaker ballet <i>The Times Are Racing</i>, and most
recently as a magical Puck in Balanchine’s <i>Midsummer</i>.]<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC-IE1teRoJzEwWlz_Tdwpo_M5tmjip7XUylpcmyEYaKtg5gtqsWFJmkfQgU5HrEPB89AcpJIRpw-2IwBrht8f1xD9I9RD3w_C_qX-xcoYPSaC4Z7BIr9pJ02JH1Pe0U8oYmJCkCoNkksdYE1_vbfD641fMiUGzj-AGozI_rYWtiuMPOnifWRWPVWn/s3300/MSNDBckstg%20225.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3300" data-original-width="2593" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC-IE1teRoJzEwWlz_Tdwpo_M5tmjip7XUylpcmyEYaKtg5gtqsWFJmkfQgU5HrEPB89AcpJIRpw-2IwBrht8f1xD9I9RD3w_C_qX-xcoYPSaC4Z7BIr9pJ02JH1Pe0U8oYmJCkCoNkksdYE1_vbfD641fMiUGzj-AGozI_rYWtiuMPOnifWRWPVWn/w502-h640/MSNDBckstg%20225.jpg" width="502" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A completely extraneous--but fabulous--photo of Ashton Edwards as Puck<br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Despite Amanda’s ballet accomplishments, she seems
determined to forge ahead with her own creative endeavors, honing both her
choreographic skills and her self-producing chops. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">You can check out both of her worlds in the coming weeks. Seattle Project's <a href="https://nwfilmforum.org/events/seattle-project-amanda-morgan-chapters-in-person-only/"><i>Chapters</i>
will be at Northwest Film Forum May 5-6</a><i>.</i></span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">And PNB has one more program on tap this artistic season: <i>Worlds to Come</i>, a mixed bill featuring new work by Kiyon Ross (former PNB soloist, now company Associate Artistic Director) and internationally acclaimed Annabelle Lopez Ochoa. The program also features the live stage debut of Edwaard Liang's <i>The Veil Between Worlds</i>.<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span><a href="https://www.pnb.org/season/worlds-to-come/" style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It’s onstage June 2-11 at McCaw Hall</span></a></p>
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>rowermarciehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521108522583895812noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961987583859476165.post-24606928104109253642023-04-16T13:40:00.005-07:002023-04-16T16:27:07.312-07:00Some Enchanted Evening<p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4TZQB1ePm8Ynhb4IF57LYcL6C5ebQJmxeOgl2AvDRsSoApwwxm-50BjDVGY5oa9mokFIRqrFZ9OnsljYYLNuEFppjmJBZ4kXzBR-EMAiXBF7XSMCZGwc7Kt0MHU9wY7znTSF5HJKewY9Vg8W7nmN_Nnxn7glV1RatnN2LHJwVUrtRSZvNFAqGtRiB/s3600/MSND23%20142.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2190" data-original-width="3600" height="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4TZQB1ePm8Ynhb4IF57LYcL6C5ebQJmxeOgl2AvDRsSoApwwxm-50BjDVGY5oa9mokFIRqrFZ9OnsljYYLNuEFppjmJBZ4kXzBR-EMAiXBF7XSMCZGwc7Kt0MHU9wY7znTSF5HJKewY9Vg8W7nmN_Nnxn7glV1RatnN2LHJwVUrtRSZvNFAqGtRiB/w640-h390/MSND23%20142.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PNB principal dancer Elizabeth Murphy, center, with company dancers in <br />George Balanchine's <i>A Midsummer Night's Dream</i>. photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Last Friday I saw Pacific Northwest Ballet’s latest
production of George Balanchine’s <i>A Midsummer Night’s Dream, </i>and I can give
you hundreds of reasons why this 1962 reimagining of Shakespeare’s magical tale<i>
</i>is the perfect ballet to celebrate PNB’s 50<sup>th</sup> anniversary.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Seriously, hundreds of reasons.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Let’s start with more than a dozen young PNB school students
decked out with wings and small antennae. They flitter around Martin
Pakledinaz’s enchanting sets, flapping their arms and running in circles more like
happy puppies than insects. But watching their exuberance lifted my spirits.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe_IIsNv-zpIdcgp-JIe3a0ha_4i1WuJpMF-rqK4xc-PycxSIcuI2dhq8akm4Cfy67oc4VTnG0r0sksTf6J-MYFlWpGRgaNqNG9MfoH_bXYmdOb6IydVTSQ4e4GSQRhLt7iCc8JRtqOb-dz1S-U6v4i-Q4WYZOOJWGl00eXfwDbH89JL0HT60RhhLQ/s3600/MSND23%20300.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2401" data-original-width="3600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe_IIsNv-zpIdcgp-JIe3a0ha_4i1WuJpMF-rqK4xc-PycxSIcuI2dhq8akm4Cfy67oc4VTnG0r0sksTf6J-MYFlWpGRgaNqNG9MfoH_bXYmdOb6IydVTSQ4e4GSQRhLt7iCc8JRtqOb-dz1S-U6v4i-Q4WYZOOJWGl00eXfwDbH89JL0HT60RhhLQ/w640-h426/MSND23%20300.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elizabeth Murphy as Queen Titania, with some of her retinue in the enchanted forest.<br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">A word (okay, several words) about those Pakledinaz sets.
Garlands of rosy peonies! Sparkling spider webs! A skyful of glittering stars!
Combined with Randall Chiarelli’s lighting, you can almost believe you’re in a
magic forest.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Felix Mendelssohn’s glorious score is more than ably
performed by the PNB orchestra--more than 65 amazing musicians led by conductor
Emil de Cou. I think our reason count is nearing 100.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I’m guessing the crystals that adorn the costumes push our number
into the 1,000s; add in yards of delicate tulle, plus the talented costume shop
crew who transformed that material into the noble tunics and tutus that clothe
the enchanted forest’s fairy denizens, and we’re already way above the 100s of
reasons why <i>A Midsummer Night’s Dream</i> has captivated Seattle audiences
since PNB’s founding Artistic Directors Kent Stowell and Francia Russell got
permission from the Balanchine Trust to redesign the production in 1997. (Russell staged the production again this season.)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs9gWNV5fGGwzAurh2eCiwtIcpziS30Ba4fCVc-ICI1IO111dXSaXC40-gk5C8jxMfwrUsrvuL-Vxkif0v3y-o9KxkYxeLYiNZiyJGeSWAb6eup3OI_LsGPclsx8LgM58O408oDto6cqw3K83R_7Qpw1dHngToQ7kT-7CxJ84eOaJOhHO0e9KA4y3y/s3600/MSND23%20033.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3600" data-original-width="2634" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs9gWNV5fGGwzAurh2eCiwtIcpziS30Ba4fCVc-ICI1IO111dXSaXC40-gk5C8jxMfwrUsrvuL-Vxkif0v3y-o9KxkYxeLYiNZiyJGeSWAb6eup3OI_LsGPclsx8LgM58O408oDto6cqw3K83R_7Qpw1dHngToQ7kT-7CxJ84eOaJOhHO0e9KA4y3y/w468-h640/MSND23%20033.jpg" width="468" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Soloist Christian Poppe as Puck, surrounded by PNB butterflies.<br /> photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I haven’t even mentioned the very best part of this
particular production: the PNB dancers, numbering 46, not including the PNB
school’s Professional Division students. Audiences got to welcome back to the
stage three company members who’ve been missing for months: corps de ballet
member Abbie Jayne D’Angelo and soloist Price Suddarth, who’ve been out with
injuries, and luminous principal dancer Leta Biasucci, who has just returned
from maternity leave, although watching her dance you’d never know she’d been
away since last fall. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3lxALdO2zcJpalRhJUahX2nqBkXnkYNTr7q4sohXOzeQhdA7XQ-UF-WxvH8CACTHTLCcn3P8x3So4q3yRmG2sNrftH_P7Z3PJUkBhw8hGihxkKlYDZgtG47QzWh6b7466aahCxUKx4jxKeZmwJo4AD1NJ97p1yqAAGxUP5Ul-qfuOt7gWn01QA5uP/s3600/MSND23%20212.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2401" data-original-width="3600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3lxALdO2zcJpalRhJUahX2nqBkXnkYNTr7q4sohXOzeQhdA7XQ-UF-WxvH8CACTHTLCcn3P8x3So4q3yRmG2sNrftH_P7Z3PJUkBhw8hGihxkKlYDZgtG47QzWh6b7466aahCxUKx4jxKeZmwJo4AD1NJ97p1yqAAGxUP5Ul-qfuOt7gWn01QA5uP/w640-h426/MSND23%20212.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Principal dancers Leta Biasucci and James Yoichi Moore, surrounded by PNB dancers. <br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">From the kaleidoscope of butterflies led by Sarah-Gabrielle
Ryan, to the pack of dogs who bounded onstage with Elle Macy’s Hippolyta, Queen
of the Amazons, every company member and student performed with joyful abandon.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I’ve seen <i>A Midsummer Night’s Dream</i> a number of
times, but I attended this opening night with a ballet neophyte, so I had the
opportunity to experience it vicariously through a fresh pair of eyes. My
companion knows Shakespeare’s play and was interested to see how Balanchine had distilled the dramatic action into one act that introduces us to Oberon and
Titania, the King and Queen of the Fairies, (meticulous Kyle Davis and a
glowing Elizabeth Murphy) along with a retinue that includes the mischievous
Puck (danced that evening by soloist Christian Poppe) and Titania’s cavalier
(James Kirby Rogers). <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJRTDrHNNEWZLAVkUF8iP3TuGnCcRP3jPUkD8X0JjzwfcScIbA6E81PwLxCxZXHUykcU8KmHxHODZ295rACEn47dL0pMQ4m54eLjOXtW95Ie7wTYEGkCtIYw0ECdFW3pHZCZkmBeqKkVzLoKvTlT0ZKisIV0V8dpLYgJJqeEKfzU5g8yQowd0mg9Z0/s3599/MSND23%20292%20crop.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="3599" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJRTDrHNNEWZLAVkUF8iP3TuGnCcRP3jPUkD8X0JjzwfcScIbA6E81PwLxCxZXHUykcU8KmHxHODZ295rACEn47dL0pMQ4m54eLjOXtW95Ie7wTYEGkCtIYw0ECdFW3pHZCZkmBeqKkVzLoKvTlT0ZKisIV0V8dpLYgJJqeEKfzU5g8yQowd0mg9Z0/w640-h358/MSND23%20292%20crop.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kyle Davis, left, as Oberon, faces down his onstage wife, Titania, danced by Elizabeth Murphy<br />They're surrounded by PNB company members and school students<br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">We also meet two pairs of rather confused human lovers:
Helena and Demetrius (Cecilia Iliesiu and Miles Pertl) and Hermia and Lysander
(Biasucci and James Yoichi Moore), plus Theseus, Duke of Athens (Dammiel
Cruz-Garrido), in whose forest everyone cavorts.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqIBxIrXuKoEQD9IpBG58VJGcmAtm8zL7VjGwlnGTfcaPCLPZNhYty3X7-u8fNQbXVUYcdBnwbEzhl5jeivvZkR7zLE1ddAjOT885ffkbwHKEcnS_kmm2w7wBwxETNtJB_O4BAKKj44724kEOsdVuMB9a1AKJGUccTY-MeFYH3yfk12-ZyGcengaZ8/s3600/MSND23%20104.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2204" data-original-width="3600" height="392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqIBxIrXuKoEQD9IpBG58VJGcmAtm8zL7VjGwlnGTfcaPCLPZNhYty3X7-u8fNQbXVUYcdBnwbEzhl5jeivvZkR7zLE1ddAjOT885ffkbwHKEcnS_kmm2w7wBwxETNtJB_O4BAKKj44724kEOsdVuMB9a1AKJGUccTY-MeFYH3yfk12-ZyGcengaZ8/w640-h392/MSND23%20104.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Puck has bewitched James Yoichi Moore's Lysander into believing himself in love with Helena<br />danced by Cecilia Iliesiu, in red. Biasucci's Hermia, left, is his real true love.<br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">The ballet offers marital spats, romantic misunderstandings,
plus a magical flower that Puck wields at Oberon’s command to make Titania fall
head over heels for the man-turned-donkey, Bottom (Ezra Thomson). Watching
Thomson, kitted out in his winsome donkey head, straining to escape Murphy’s
tender caresses and savor the blades of grass she’s bestowed upon him, well, I
fell even further under the frothy spell this sumptuous production cast.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFDEiORXENMFt4boXHp2ydVLnl_aOTGKZrUMgOP1s5rzE5Tr_X7YLq5cVVJp8hk0tXP5KiHg6jvh7dC8rc28zbBnbtFeZHET0EOqPuHM94BLtFJYQoEyOSkMZNBdWCFSmkCPUOf4y_U1Px9tk6Egp2gQfyBK-V7K0gL2mlx0b_7d-bz_WGSxNPZgDf/s3600/MSND23%20174.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2298" data-original-width="3600" height="408" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFDEiORXENMFt4boXHp2ydVLnl_aOTGKZrUMgOP1s5rzE5Tr_X7YLq5cVVJp8hk0tXP5KiHg6jvh7dC8rc28zbBnbtFeZHET0EOqPuHM94BLtFJYQoEyOSkMZNBdWCFSmkCPUOf4y_U1Px9tk6Egp2gQfyBK-V7K0gL2mlx0b_7d-bz_WGSxNPZgDf/w640-h408/MSND23%20174.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How could you not fall in love with that donkey face?<br />Soloist Ezra Thomson is beneath the mask, being caressed by Elizabeth Murphy's Titania<br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">All of Puck’s mischief gets sorted out by the end of the first
act, and, after the gaggle of children, fairies and enchanted forest residents
had taken their bows, my Shakespeare-savvy companion assumed the ballet was
over. What more was left to tell?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">To my mind, Balanchine saved the real <i>Midsummer</i> magic
for his second act, a banquet of stunning choreography reminiscent of some of his epic big ballets. And, on this evening, the dancing was as magical as the original
source material.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">In particular, principal dancers Dylan Wald (only recently
returned from a serious injury) and his partner, the sublime Lesley Rausch,
perform a duet so delicately beautiful that it took my breath away. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxWzZmG-pyIjR7rNqeaRO8y-IEEy9TPhIQU9gbv6o3Qc3OPL5XZttvgn9Pkt41UPfg90y5uODGrB35VjvTesL8oYXt8q_dzR4-ph6gx_LwfZaGjUXraPklFPwcXGdS8U5-2thz9oJWXTiAVs3w4JM0bFI6j6G5HvWMGDNxMh86rCL2n-dcVGiVAwQn/s2698/MSND23%20224%20Crop.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2698" data-original-width="2614" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxWzZmG-pyIjR7rNqeaRO8y-IEEy9TPhIQU9gbv6o3Qc3OPL5XZttvgn9Pkt41UPfg90y5uODGrB35VjvTesL8oYXt8q_dzR4-ph6gx_LwfZaGjUXraPklFPwcXGdS8U5-2thz9oJWXTiAVs3w4JM0bFI6j6G5HvWMGDNxMh86rCL2n-dcVGiVAwQn/w620-h640/MSND23%20224%20Crop.jpg" width="620" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As much as I love Angela Sterling's photograph, it can't really capture the spell that Dylan Wald and Lesley Rausch weave when they perform together in <i>Balanchine's Divertissement</i>.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">That’s due in large part to the pleasure of seeing these two
dancers--frequent stage partners before Wald’s injury—reunited after so many
months. Balanchine’s <i>Divertissement</i> (the official name for this duet) is a
fitting showcase for their artistry, their complete trust in one another, as
well as what seemed to be the real joy they found in the choreography.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Each time Wald lifted Rausch, she seemed to hang in the air
for an extra beat or two before floating gently down to the stage. Twice, they moved downstage together in a series of diagonal steps, executing what looked like the ballet version of
a do-si-do, their shoulders repeatedly touching, then separating as they twirled
apart. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Wald has a majestic and magnetic stage presence, and, after
more than 20 years with PNB, Rausch is a master
of her technical craft as well as an expressive artist. She infuses each lift of a leg, every extension of her
arms, with confidence and grace. And that made the evening bittersweet;
Rausch retires in June so this production of <i>A Midsummer Night’s Dream</i> is one of
her last at PNB. Another reason to get yourself down to McCaw Hall
before it closes. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">You don't watch a performance--this one or any other--in an isolation chamber, even
if you purchase a digital ticket. We’re all informed by events in our personal
lives and in the world around us. I can’t escape the psychological aftermath of three
pandemic years, subsequent economic pressures, plus the ongoing political and
climatic turmoil that surrounds me. But two hours spent in an ethereal, enchanted forest was a most diverting
respite. I think Shakespeare’s clever Puck said it best:</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">“<i>If we shadows have offended, think but this, and all is
mended. That you have but slumber’d here while these visions did appear.</i>” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Wouldn’t it be dreamy if those words pertained to real life?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.pnb.org/season/midsummer-nights-dream/">PNB’s
production of George Balanchine’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream</a> runs through April
23<sup>rd</sup>.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p><br />rowermarciehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521108522583895812noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961987583859476165.post-83612826460597227122023-03-29T13:43:00.000-07:002023-03-29T13:43:46.385-07:00Loving Max<p> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7gwWX6lNUX2OrKy_85kxdrfJ_XVcxmkFjwX9ZkQt5Z90Su8ia9C_4M3izS6kxmKaMF_L39nQvWDdvj_THWjpvQXGl0ZeJuwvb4HZJJWAsBaIoIroAQfmaEsngkAqOpO7FfYjlQH0kCs50bQMjBBNHPQQnB3uiFwZ8a2l0d5J0qS3arygx4JGeIy-t/s2674/max.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2308" data-original-width="2674" height="552" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7gwWX6lNUX2OrKy_85kxdrfJ_XVcxmkFjwX9ZkQt5Z90Su8ia9C_4M3izS6kxmKaMF_L39nQvWDdvj_THWjpvQXGl0ZeJuwvb4HZJJWAsBaIoIroAQfmaEsngkAqOpO7FfYjlQH0kCs50bQMjBBNHPQQnB3uiFwZ8a2l0d5J0qS3arygx4JGeIy-t/w640-h552/max.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Max, photo @ Alan Lande</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I never thought I would love a cat. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">In my suburban enclave, dogs ruled. We had a series of small
yappers; they--and a slew of anti-feline stereotypes—surrounded me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Cats were aloof, I was told. They didn’t bond with their
owners, didn’t love their humans the way dogs did. I had no reason to question
those prejudices, which were reinforced by the only cat I knew, an imperious
Siamese named Missy who deigned to live with my cousins.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I never imagined that I’d own a cat and certainly didn’t
envision falling in love with one.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Then came Max.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I actually had a few cats before Max, most notably a rambunctious
Tabby named Buddy, who I adopted from a southern Ohio farm when I was working
at my first bona fide radio gig in rural Yellow Springs. I lived on a street
full of cats, and they had a pecking order, something I discovered when I made
the mistake of purchasing a living catnip plant. I set it out on the porch,
only to discover the poor seedling surrounded by the cat gang, who took turns
ripping it to shreds. First, the big tom cat who lived next door had a go, then
Buddy, who, by the way, was female. Old Wynona, with her sway back and greasy
fur, had the final go at the denuded stem.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Buddy moved to Seattle with me when I got hired at KUOW in
1985 and she was around for another 10 years; always the life of the party.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLsgdIXWp3Ghlk8n4bvphhhhCq7a-Fcz4pezNjnH1bXHbx3mGsQzJcmwl2lhw16y4v2auc5fbo41qUiumZRwXOEGTfLxtN_AbHeC7PnUm7Lu7Qr4opVddT7wd6MtfxPvQ6LX3T7D9imAl4Amir8RrmfbBqesFiom0XvXW25qFCp28WkpUtBUVw_pQt/s1712/JiJi%2010616.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1622" data-original-width="1712" height="606" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLsgdIXWp3Ghlk8n4bvphhhhCq7a-Fcz4pezNjnH1bXHbx3mGsQzJcmwl2lhw16y4v2auc5fbo41qUiumZRwXOEGTfLxtN_AbHeC7PnUm7Lu7Qr4opVddT7wd6MtfxPvQ6LX3T7D9imAl4Amir8RrmfbBqesFiom0XvXW25qFCp28WkpUtBUVw_pQt/w640-h606/JiJi%2010616.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is Jiji, photo @ Alan Lande</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">We adopted Max, and his Tabby littermate Jiji, in 2008, I
think. My son and I drove up to Everett to look at the litter of eight very
young kittens who’d been rescued from an abandoned building in Ellensburg. They were being fostered at one of our region’s stellar rescue shelters.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Almost as soon as I sat down on the floor of a small room in
the PetSmart outlet at the Everett Mall, Jiji climbed into my lap and started
to purr. She chose us, and 15 years later she’s still a sweet and fairly
unassuming cat.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Max was a different story. While I stroked Jiji, who was
nestled in for the long run, her brother teetered on a narrow shelf that circled
the room, then picked out careful steps like the Simone Biles of cats. Max’s
black fur, white boots and whiskers were enchanting, but my son was
particularly enticed by this kitty’s white and black facial markings that
looked a little like Hitler’s mustache. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3wD89IX8yksIdfpXHr9iK3-4bwow-vlR9Lk0ng1RHuYeK_wDXj5_iER9wCGKRww8IVzMAEXK0JRAgbx_2NyowjlWdPjMZtkjx24w2_07VbNv8HR54Y-3dqCPUjgqMEB5N-y3rc_8nwftuyPyNEC_9OwkVNSF6H_k6ES12aK5WYpHeuETeQyBCc1-V/s1800/Max%20on%20Plinth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1336" data-original-width="1800" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3wD89IX8yksIdfpXHr9iK3-4bwow-vlR9Lk0ng1RHuYeK_wDXj5_iER9wCGKRww8IVzMAEXK0JRAgbx_2NyowjlWdPjMZtkjx24w2_07VbNv8HR54Y-3dqCPUjgqMEB5N-y3rc_8nwftuyPyNEC_9OwkVNSF6H_k6ES12aK5WYpHeuETeQyBCc1-V/w640-h476/Max%20on%20Plinth.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cat on a warm carpet plinth. photo @ Alan Lande</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">We brought the kittens home a few weeks later, and settled
them into our spare bathroom, the warmest room in the house. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Jiji was fearless and smart; she learned how to climb over the
wooden barricade we’d set up, figured out how to maneuver through the makeshift
cat door onto the back deck, and managed to climb the scratching post Alan built
for them, eager to reach the carpeted platform that sat atop the post.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Max, on the other hand, while curious as cats are, was not
the brightest bulb.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">He wedged himself under the house; we called for him,
puzzled by the faint meowing coming from who knew where. Rescue required
slithering through the dirt and cobwebs while trying to maintain a bit of
dignity.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ZlmNeyVYs8DbCdWD6XuzbfKBXGbh6RXPBj6knab2hMF18lRUVu9HAsTbTHIv5Kssz4rTWrf5dDmHoZByZjucT-KRxTQZyPBW_X5Pe0oukTPBche64q5jv5FH09j3XOZdczeROcBBGvuyTem0r8UeraODnuwjcT6prJN1FZX3Nln44j2uIircwhQR/s1800/Listen%20Up.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1350" data-original-width="1800" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ZlmNeyVYs8DbCdWD6XuzbfKBXGbh6RXPBj6knab2hMF18lRUVu9HAsTbTHIv5Kssz4rTWrf5dDmHoZByZjucT-KRxTQZyPBW_X5Pe0oukTPBche64q5jv5FH09j3XOZdczeROcBBGvuyTem0r8UeraODnuwjcT6prJN1FZX3Nln44j2uIircwhQR/w640-h480/Listen%20Up.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Why, do you need this shelf for anything?<br />photo @ Alan Lande</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">One morning as I lounged in bed reading, with Jiji ensconced
on my lap, we both heard Max yelling outside the bedroom window, feet firmly
planted on the narrow veranda that wraps around the back of the house. He’d
figured out how to use the cat door, but couldn’t quite manage to get back
inside. I could almost see Jiji roll her eyes and she leapt off my lap and ran
outside to get her brother.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I used to call Max my dog-cat because he lavished attention
on us in the ways people expect from dogs: waiting attentively at the front
door when he heard my car pull up, or sitting outside the bedroom door each
morning, alert for my alarm. In the summertime, he’d perch on a railing outside
the bedroom window, crowing like a feline rooster to let me know it was time
for his breakfast. Occasionally I’d see him leap up onto a gray wooden
structure in our front yard; he’d mince around its perimeter very daintily,
reminiscent of the day we met him at PetSmart.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">The older Max got, the more affectionate he became,
especially when it was cold outside. He’d get up on the bed, all 17 pounds of
him, drape his big paws over my thighs, and lay his head down on them, purring
contentedly. I didn’t dare move lest I disrupt his beauty sleep.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6sxENRxNAHNqQp7beFo-TkzDzbCpxVlNsKcbxptp6pG4RFb_9FpcyWAS_TDahFPL4fImbd0dd1Cg3rkY5KoH8YJXEx81-b6RLpmOudheSgVd-YjbvjWWI0C0RID2F9qL0rn_yCxqcTT3wmZX5DdiSbb-RPkM4CdTyoPMtvTLzwYgAY3J08Y6gSdj0/s1349/Max%20&%20Mum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1179" data-original-width="1349" height="560" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6sxENRxNAHNqQp7beFo-TkzDzbCpxVlNsKcbxptp6pG4RFb_9FpcyWAS_TDahFPL4fImbd0dd1Cg3rkY5KoH8YJXEx81-b6RLpmOudheSgVd-YjbvjWWI0C0RID2F9qL0rn_yCxqcTT3wmZX5DdiSbb-RPkM4CdTyoPMtvTLzwYgAY3J08Y6gSdj0/w640-h560/Max%20&%20Mum.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What can I say? I loved him</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">These stories and many more have been bubbling up since we
laid Max to rest last week. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Max was diagnosed with a swift-growing and painful jaw tumor
just over two months ago. It was a horrible end for such a proud and feisty boy.
He grew more needy, spending hours curled up next to me, or sitting beside me
while I worked.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">His death leaves an immense hole; we are truly gutted, as
the British would say. Jiji searches the house for him, crying while I try to
console her. I sit on my bed, knitting in hand, but no cat purrs at my side.
Sometimes tears just well up as I picture him leaping up, giving me a little
cat chirp of greeting. Sometimes I really do understand that Britishism,
gutted, because it’s like part of my insides are gone. But not my heart. I know
it’s still there because it’s still aching for his presence.</span><o:p></o:p></p>rowermarciehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521108522583895812noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961987583859476165.post-32710039116425205842023-03-19T12:59:00.002-07:002023-03-20T15:39:30.309-07:00BOUNDLESS<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvj6WN369TLmFQgJ_wtpXUvqjx6OEphFvh6d3vs56KfRZaVKMEqhjFahqOCQTaWaHT1qQI_5cMNCcx21YDtJn-OQeqxrvEGHKC5JCTi6un3rRSxxhTTvFsDJcXjxXhU0dFqUSybGQLMMVe09pFfD0AqqEVf6Ne571rbRTgwhJ60DTa2NrEgvJ2ksKL/s3300/Boundless%200039%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2165" data-original-width="3300" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvj6WN369TLmFQgJ_wtpXUvqjx6OEphFvh6d3vs56KfRZaVKMEqhjFahqOCQTaWaHT1qQI_5cMNCcx21YDtJn-OQeqxrvEGHKC5JCTi6un3rRSxxhTTvFsDJcXjxXhU0dFqUSybGQLMMVe09pFfD0AqqEVf6Ne571rbRTgwhJ60DTa2NrEgvJ2ksKL/w640-h420/Boundless%200039%20(1).jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pacific Northwest Ballet corps de ballet member Genevieve Waldorf, left, with soloist Christopher D'Ariano in Penny Saunders' <i>Wonderland</i>. Photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /> <p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Pacific Northwest Ballet Artistic Director Peter Boal made a
good choice when he named the company’s latest program.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Boundless </i>means
limitless, according to my dictionary; an apt description when I think back on
the three dances that make up the <i>Boundless</i> bill.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Boal has made it his practice to bring audiences two
contemporary ballet programs each year, in November and March. Sometimes those dances
are imported from other companies. In the case of <i>Boundless—</i>and thanks
to the season-long celebration of PNB’s 50<sup>th</sup> anniversary--we get two
world premieres plus the stage debut of Penny Saunder’s witty <i>Wonderland</i>,
originally commissioned and presented as part of PNB’s 2020-21 digital-only
artistic season.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Saunders, PNB resident choreographer Alejandro
Cerrudo and the internationally acclaimed dancemaker Jessica Lang offered up
three completely different works, each showcasing the company dancers to their
best advantage.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-9JmUuM9I678IjfNmaS-mzQzgMhtTFQbz5XwylyxFB9yk-4M0FL9GwfdI1geiuhCE1vYwglx-0gXi5dfsf4Kqmz7jPdX5dxi0ZB8I8TEDJesxn8wnY44RLJVH6_46MoWqoGJmLkPrFXUB8ZR6R5jG8A_PrDEhEqnRjMce3-c4_0s_jhT1kN_A-KW5/s3300/Boundless%200313%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2449" data-original-width="3300" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-9JmUuM9I678IjfNmaS-mzQzgMhtTFQbz5XwylyxFB9yk-4M0FL9GwfdI1geiuhCE1vYwglx-0gXi5dfsf4Kqmz7jPdX5dxi0ZB8I8TEDJesxn8wnY44RLJVH6_46MoWqoGJmLkPrFXUB8ZR6R5jG8A_PrDEhEqnRjMce3-c4_0s_jhT1kN_A-KW5/w640-h474/Boundless%200313%20(1).jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PNB Principal Dancer Lucien Postlewaite, left, with company members in<br />Penny Saunders' <i>Wonderland</i>. Photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Wonderland</i>, a love letter to theaters and the artists
who inhabit them, originally was videotaped in various locations in the empty McCaw
Hall, where PNB (and Seattle Opera) regularly perform. In 2020, when Saunders
created the dance, the world had been shut down for months, and nobody knew
when we’d all gather again in person. In revisiting <i>Wonderland</i> almost
three years later, Saunders had to address our changed circumstances while
retaining the essence of her homage to the magic that can happen in a theater.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">The new <i>Wonderland</i> is bookended by the always
fabulous Elle Macy. She emerges from the orchestra pit at the beginning, baton
at the ready, to conduct a set of white-gloved hands that have poked their way
under the heavy red velvet curtain. Macy reprises her conducting role at the
end of the dance. In between, we revel in soloist Christopher D’Ariano and
corps de ballet member Genevieve Waldorf’s duet on the stage, as well as
principal dancer Lucien Postlewaite’s pas de deux with corps member Mark Cuddihee,
performed in separate box seats above and across the sea of audience
members. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglkQ9_6ZhP4McUaXDdxSqvPXONqI_W7dpfhAmv8WjAXM0khi9Yg459Bq55nq6NLOsW3Jhdq6fsjFOaEuwIhPmNLrL4HaZrPqNPzyAudTv5UOseTy3-aBbcWBUBV4vIaWHXXkZU9UkLH7OvDVpHi102LdRRzJbjKM6vCr1Etv_kMXKdP5NG29t0wTmm/s3300/Boundless%200208.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2547" data-original-width="3300" height="494" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglkQ9_6ZhP4McUaXDdxSqvPXONqI_W7dpfhAmv8WjAXM0khi9Yg459Bq55nq6NLOsW3Jhdq6fsjFOaEuwIhPmNLrL4HaZrPqNPzyAudTv5UOseTy3-aBbcWBUBV4vIaWHXXkZU9UkLH7OvDVpHi102LdRRzJbjKM6vCr1Etv_kMXKdP5NG29t0wTmm/w640-h494/Boundless%200208.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elle Macy, left, with Dylan Wald in <i>Wonderland</i>.<br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Saunders’ work not only survived the jump from small screen
to live stage, it transcended, providing haunting moments of pure beauty along
with the whimsy. One of the highlights was welcoming back principal dancer
Dylan Wald, who’s been out for almost a year with a serious injury. Saunders
made <i>Wonderland</i> with him in 2020, and it was truly a joy to see this
talented artist back in his element.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">If <i>Wonderland</i> left us feeling upbeat, Alejandro
Cerrudo’s new <i>Black on Black on Black, </i>a combination of demanding,
sometimes confounding, stage wizardry (kudos to the backstage crew and stage
management for what had to be a monumental evening of scrim jockeying)
and moments of simply lyrical dance.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Watching the sheer beauty of Leah Terada, perched atop Chris
D’Ariano’s behind, slowly surfing a sea of dancers lying prone onstage is
something to behold. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzbk4zEVBnID8-ZyfJKJ7cWjo8OxN2PNa5WpqQM75EqegGfbJqEDIiFybw2BPXHvmLVzzPeEgqywoZCzzZgu6RT_-YHYW0rKYyv8w2MX5oj2Kviyhi2sKGUn_AmLCZ2cKELw9S4khyF5EfcVfVJtuHTN2OUdK9l5zESXxX38tG0Ex_q7t1OpfhLrFB/s3300/Boundless%200612.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2201" data-original-width="3300" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzbk4zEVBnID8-ZyfJKJ7cWjo8OxN2PNa5WpqQM75EqegGfbJqEDIiFybw2BPXHvmLVzzPeEgqywoZCzzZgu6RT_-YHYW0rKYyv8w2MX5oj2Kviyhi2sKGUn_AmLCZ2cKELw9S4khyF5EfcVfVJtuHTN2OUdK9l5zESXxX38tG0Ex_q7t1OpfhLrFB/w640-h426/Boundless%200612.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Luminous Angelica Generosa with James Kirby Rogers in <br />Alejandro Cerrudo's <i>Black on Black on Black</i>. Photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Two other sections linger: principals Angelica Generosa and
James Kirby Rogers performed a lovely duet that showcased both their technical
prowess and their artistry. (In fact, Generosa danced in all three pieces on
opening night, and shone equally (and blindingly) in each).<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">The other highlight was a solo for corps de ballet member
Noah Martzall. I wish I had a picture to show you, but you’ll have to content
yourself with this photo of Martzall in Crystal Pite’s amazing <i>The Seasons’
Canon</i>. He’s definitely a rising presence in a ballet company that boasts
any number of talented dancers.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrwLX-YU0rX3qcQ1gPZcn-X2xRmeKQ3xyla4IDmbADSVnuIvCSjuvDLb3TuZ6oAAb1j-8lMuO6p5qcMwVBXiBy8Sm-oSwJtRuuI8x6U-DB0mStUzXXfCkyYtXgt24mXIVcGPRy5tliCNch65yNMzD4MpktIrNvgRhH02RtbyWUnOFwSPpL27KcTcYk/s3300/Rep2.22%20265.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2357" data-original-width="3300" height="458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrwLX-YU0rX3qcQ1gPZcn-X2xRmeKQ3xyla4IDmbADSVnuIvCSjuvDLb3TuZ6oAAb1j-8lMuO6p5qcMwVBXiBy8Sm-oSwJtRuuI8x6U-DB0mStUzXXfCkyYtXgt24mXIVcGPRy5tliCNch65yNMzD4MpktIrNvgRhH02RtbyWUnOFwSPpL27KcTcYk/w640-h458/Rep2.22%20265.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's Noah Martzall in the middle, surrounded by fellow PNB dancers in<br />Crystal Pite's fabulous <i>The Seasons' Canon</i>. Photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">The program’s final work was Jessica Lang’s <i>Let Me Mingle
Tears With Thee,</i> (<i>LMMTWT</i> for short) set to Giovanni Battista
Pergolesi’s <i>Stabat Mater,</i> performed by the always wonderful PNB
orchestra with singers Christina Siemens and Sarra Sharif Doyle. <i>LMMTWT</i>
couldn’t be more different from the two dances that preceded it.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj8OtlCDRCPkK7wqv007QPDVIy2HPTvfD6d1sUETi5fWsj4EWXqQp1rOHOIXUEB_EIABj6wFOnDtW89Y5L2HvhKzIv3QKBBAkIKdMkloFKCBvo48NVOUs4FK69TKUA7vMbKVyisJ6wpcV3wRzBeEbaw7LrZWQK_sKnu22BoH6oein43OTdwRVFuLLG/s3300/Boundless%200748%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2089" data-original-width="3300" height="406" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj8OtlCDRCPkK7wqv007QPDVIy2HPTvfD6d1sUETi5fWsj4EWXqQp1rOHOIXUEB_EIABj6wFOnDtW89Y5L2HvhKzIv3QKBBAkIKdMkloFKCBvo48NVOUs4FK69TKUA7vMbKVyisJ6wpcV3wRzBeEbaw7LrZWQK_sKnu22BoH6oein43OTdwRVFuLLG/w640-h406/Boundless%200748%20(1).jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PNB dancers in Jessica Lang's <i>Let Me Mingle Tears With Thee</i><br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">The 18th century <i>Stabat Mater</i> is about Mary’s grief at the
death of her son, Jesus. While there’s no mistaking the Christian symbolism in
this ballet, Lang intends her work to transcend this particular story. But with
the dancers clad in flowing costumes in faded gold, peach and blue and re-creating
what look like Renaissance-era Church frescos, it’s hard to think beyond the New
Testament. As a non-Christian, religious artworks like this often leave me
cold. The assumption of the universality of their message is ignorant of the
experiences of those of us on the outside.</span><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQm_zKp-KArHatL7DbyZ-RbJDyRg5smBX0pbA_B3cvvC4Jkh177Duy5s7qYwZ5o0g7Oh5Vk7wo17SzlS8lyrRIl_KY_vwiEcUgA-u6xMckIMRpP5yksvpxsnW3BsXu3avMBwV7xUGkfRmTZacpEdz-_-QLCOFpNcxc7vJPl2fyxuPQh3fNMM_UA-Db/s3300/Boundless%201276%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2201" data-original-width="3300" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQm_zKp-KArHatL7DbyZ-RbJDyRg5smBX0pbA_B3cvvC4Jkh177Duy5s7qYwZ5o0g7Oh5Vk7wo17SzlS8lyrRIl_KY_vwiEcUgA-u6xMckIMRpP5yksvpxsnW3BsXu3avMBwV7xUGkfRmTZacpEdz-_-QLCOFpNcxc7vJPl2fyxuPQh3fNMM_UA-Db/w640-h426/Boundless%201276%20(1).jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PNB company members in Jessica Lang's <i>Let Me Mingle Tears With Thee</i><br />Photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">But mid-way through, the cast swaps the pastel tights,
skirts and flowing shirts for costumes rendered in super-saturated purple,
blue, green and red. Despite the gigantic crucifix set piece, the costume
change is where this ballet opened up for me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I don’t want to give much away, but choreographically (and
musically) the end of<i> LMMTWT </i>is magnificent; it is Lang’s visual rendering of
the fugue we hear the orchestra play. The intricacy and the dancers’ grace truly
are something to behold.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>LMMTWT</i> is an ensemble work; opening night featured
some solid performances from several of the company’s newer members including
Audrey Malek, Clara Ruf Maldonado and Kuu Sakuragi. They were as strong as such
veterans as James Yoichi Moore, Elizabeth Murphy and Generosa, who truly was
luminous. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJctpTAOoUVEhB5thW3Ex-KIYBrnckOuQMlV1KpqteV_p5jJGJbHlUWYHmIe54WCJXbDaYl0zROvG185pIVJhC2uEGuoLipx87uVVdsyH6mEMxWFaw3lwhcv_E0U7GorGQ0S_l5QqaRKHHCJIF7tCLCPgl8y7p0RLOQqoZ1z4XUZuVZ9R7U1o3unM8/s3300/Boundless%200973.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2593" data-original-width="3300" height="502" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJctpTAOoUVEhB5thW3Ex-KIYBrnckOuQMlV1KpqteV_p5jJGJbHlUWYHmIe54WCJXbDaYl0zROvG185pIVJhC2uEGuoLipx87uVVdsyH6mEMxWFaw3lwhcv_E0U7GorGQ0S_l5QqaRKHHCJIF7tCLCPgl8y7p0RLOQqoZ1z4XUZuVZ9R7U1o3unM8/w640-h502/Boundless%200973.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Angelica Generosa with James Moore in Jessica Lang's <i>Let Me Mingle Tears With Thee</i><br />Photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><a href="https://www.pnb.org/season/boundless/">Boundless<span style="font-style: normal;">, onstage March 23-26 at McCaw Hall</span></a></i>, offered a smorgasbord of new work. There were those moments of
transcendent beauty, the ones I always hope to see; there were also times when
I wondered what I was watching.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">What I am certain about is that PNB’s dancers look great
right now, from the five newly-hired apprentices to accomplished principal
dancers like Macy, Wald, Postlewaite and Generosa. Watching Martzall, D’Ariano,
Terada and Sakuragi on opening night left me excited for the company’s future,
whatever choreography comes their way.</span><o:p></o:p></p>rowermarciehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521108522583895812noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961987583859476165.post-44357470607860449602023-03-01T15:38:00.007-08:002023-03-01T15:58:35.882-08:00To Lesley Rausch, With Love<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOcPlJrxqPV4ZCKcPjU0eu9RIdIPWOLcZUSF22iSVR79A0BGoRAAg-js1On8d5NVaA57uu9zRveoQyIbiTy6vYvuhuRpxIuePOYk-1lKYvk3iET2Un1AFUkwf2OxaJWo2542t1IATgugqzKXwlm-EmhZciIdcxzJkAUCrcJ-bDOYI4E7Lq0YR41mpm/s5184/SwanLake-Catwalk-Lesley-Bold_LT_91.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="5184" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOcPlJrxqPV4ZCKcPjU0eu9RIdIPWOLcZUSF22iSVR79A0BGoRAAg-js1On8d5NVaA57uu9zRveoQyIbiTy6vYvuhuRpxIuePOYk-1lKYvk3iET2Un1AFUkwf2OxaJWo2542t1IATgugqzKXwlm-EmhZciIdcxzJkAUCrcJ-bDOYI4E7Lq0YR41mpm/w640-h426/SwanLake-Catwalk-Lesley-Bold_LT_91.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lesley Rausch as Odette in Kent Stowell's <i>Swan Lake</i><br />photo @ Lindsay Thomas<br /><br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;">I knew it was coming but I still wasn't ready when I got the news.<o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">After 22 years at Pacific Northwest Ballet, Lesley Rausch has announced she'll retire at the end of this artistic season. Lesley is currently the longest-tenured
dancer in the company, one of the few who has straddled the artistic
directorships of Kent Stowell and Francia Russell and Peter Boal.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqsthBRNekdZUEafKw_r_c67AlLCzd6A6g8VXPg2rYmLeqR8gcBbEn6MeeromRR7mwBrNRjP4vT2rbo-zTz7r0wy1zzUDv0OSYMox-6lzF79pfIf1oO-iWm5cyXUXmS8vPUNMM32GPWrkhpGdbavfGAP4XvEOqZtw-QNYvTnxcIlAJMFiPPOE1yVPk/s2700/Broadway2017%200434.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2121" data-original-width="2700" height="502" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqsthBRNekdZUEafKw_r_c67AlLCzd6A6g8VXPg2rYmLeqR8gcBbEn6MeeromRR7mwBrNRjP4vT2rbo-zTz7r0wy1zzUDv0OSYMox-6lzF79pfIf1oO-iWm5cyXUXmS8vPUNMM32GPWrkhpGdbavfGAP4XvEOqZtw-QNYvTnxcIlAJMFiPPOE1yVPk/w640-h502/Broadway2017%200434.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lesley Rausch and former PNB principal dancer Seth Orza in Balanchine's<br /><i>Slaughter on Tenth Avenue</i>. Photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">As I said, I knew it was a matter of time, but every ballet dancer's retirement hits me hard, as if I'm losing an onstage friend.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I've spent a lot of time talking to PNB dancers over the years, but I didn't know Lesley particularly well. Then, almost two years ago I ran into her on the street near
Seattle Center. Although the pandemic was still in full swing, we’d just started
to emerge from isolation, emboldened by the new vaccines.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Lesley was on her lunch hour; Pacific Northwest Ballet
dancers were back in the studio, although they weren’t yet performing for in-person
audiences. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlBmWLK8hT_U8Yg9MMCtkiNvoH0RVz8IdI1sILGdbctzvCtetYYI54pEorRNKnpBXG8Sd9iwjw64O04ZpEuWRuc3pz81ieaNjOKAlISWioaH2UkBk4WUAibALtZR55KX17YXQDbTK-96tQX5uXYymMUORsXDaIRZS4hEe8SUxQJZlMyrofmKbP3mHQ/s4032/IMG_3609.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlBmWLK8hT_U8Yg9MMCtkiNvoH0RVz8IdI1sILGdbctzvCtetYYI54pEorRNKnpBXG8Sd9iwjw64O04ZpEuWRuc3pz81ieaNjOKAlISWioaH2UkBk4WUAibALtZR55KX17YXQDbTK-96tQX5uXYymMUORsXDaIRZS4hEe8SUxQJZlMyrofmKbP3mHQ/w480-h640/IMG_3609.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lesley Rausch at Seattle Center, September 2021<br />photo @ Marcie Sillman</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I didn't really know Lesley, but we struck up a
conversation. Remember, most of us hadn’t been face-to-face with other humans
for months and months, so every encounter felt like greeting a long-lost relative. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">That was mid-2021; Lesley was 39, an age when many ballet
dancers are planning the next phases of their lives. Lesley had been certified to teach Pilates, but she was one of the few dancers of her cohort who’d chosen to return to PNB for the coming season instead of retiring. We talked a bit about why she’d made the decision to keep dancing rather than step into her new career. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja-y3DfWfqR2TDoXFyQ_aSoFpeAXqxLarvrAVqDPJib288xLzlVT_QB4eUJ8yFjLaWtSC6kZmkJIoT5itABn7FyhO9NY80fz4JfbvMds1wXNcmFqJPisxkk_zJ1b1-TL6_Fe5GcEiiHRBC52CA99CApQWx5KPJt-JShxqYVFo5dvkHudC59qPrSxxc/s3375/DIRChoice13%200243.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3375" data-original-width="2250" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja-y3DfWfqR2TDoXFyQ_aSoFpeAXqxLarvrAVqDPJib288xLzlVT_QB4eUJ8yFjLaWtSC6kZmkJIoT5itABn7FyhO9NY80fz4JfbvMds1wXNcmFqJPisxkk_zJ1b1-TL6_Fe5GcEiiHRBC52CA99CApQWx5KPJt-JShxqYVFo5dvkHudC59qPrSxxc/w426-h640/DIRChoice13%200243.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lesley with former PNB principal dancer Karel Cruz in George Balanchine's <i>Agon</i></td></tr></tbody></table> photo @ Angela Sterling<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Despite her well-made plans for life post-PNB, Lesley didn’t intend her ballet
career to fade away during Covid. She wanted the opportunity to dance again
before a live audience.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Made sense to me.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/N-he0tjklMA" width="320" youtube-src-id="N-he0tjklMA"></iframe></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">We ended that chat, wished each other well, and parted ways.
But I was intrigued by our conversation. A couple of weeks later, I approached Lesley to see if I could interview her regularly over the course
of the 2021-22 artistic season. I was curious to hear more about how it felt--both in body and mind--to come back to the stage after months away from the rigors of the studio and regular performances. I wanted to know what drove her to keep dancing.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbXCuMhNuI5MnCPLWMs13UpWxZLeg1JU-dsGhiCrOXXWm2IcpUXNmHXRtuPVkh-ogP5anxG2-WPEvGSpznoXECdeEfbDNVz7mLA40MaKm592zVcIzVXHOIh3JvyfmoDkxVc9ABGxG66bEtoyxYPMZMSr9LV_YJPvQHRyULlbl0UkMmPDu_WXdDjc4p/s3300/GiselleOpen%20014.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3300" data-original-width="2593" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbXCuMhNuI5MnCPLWMs13UpWxZLeg1JU-dsGhiCrOXXWm2IcpUXNmHXRtuPVkh-ogP5anxG2-WPEvGSpznoXECdeEfbDNVz7mLA40MaKm592zVcIzVXHOIh3JvyfmoDkxVc9ABGxG66bEtoyxYPMZMSr9LV_YJPvQHRyULlbl0UkMmPDu_WXdDjc4p/w502-h640/GiselleOpen%20014.jpg" width="502" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lesley Rausch and James Kirby Rogers in <i>Giselle</i>, 2023<br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Lesley agreed to my request, and it was my great fortune to talk with her
several times last season, and to write stories both here and for other media outlets. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">She was candid about the discipline required to
prepare her body for the rigors of ballet: hot (“hot hot hot” in her words) showers,
regular Pilates and physical warmups before she even headed into the PNB studios, great physical therapists (she thanks PNB's Boyd Bender in her goodbye announcement) and, above all, persistence.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Lesley told me that sometimes, after a full day in the
studio, her body was so exhausted that she just came home and cried. She also
told me how much ballet meant to her. She’d started classes as a very young
girl in Ohio and climbed through the ranks at PNB to become a principal dancer in 2011. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">More than the professional accomplishements, Lesley thinks of the dancers and PNB staff as her second family. She met her husband, former PNB principal dancer Batkhurel Bold, at the company.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJECq2BN52eaXRWXfn-WEuDuI8sQr5u6EXX1Fh72PRmS0BobjlQRgaDWrWipX3n6Sfj2wNN2xRe7UPt6IyeeiuRbll_uI2dnlOXi9bzQHaPoiRadrS9Xq7GzumzszPSzVK7DKHwdRgWbJY3u4SrYR-TEbwIvor2F3j5rA8HJWQp6ZKRdhEOM2pw7Bj/s3300/SB3.11.Rausch.Bold.0961.AS.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2551" data-original-width="3300" height="494" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJECq2BN52eaXRWXfn-WEuDuI8sQr5u6EXX1Fh72PRmS0BobjlQRgaDWrWipX3n6Sfj2wNN2xRe7UPt6IyeeiuRbll_uI2dnlOXi9bzQHaPoiRadrS9Xq7GzumzszPSzVK7DKHwdRgWbJY3u4SrYR-TEbwIvor2F3j5rA8HJWQp6ZKRdhEOM2pw7Bj/w640-h494/SB3.11.Rausch.Bold.0961.AS.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lesley with her husband Batkhurel Bold, photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">After more than two decades at PNB, Lesley is the most
senior company member, the dancer who performs Giselle, Aurora or Odette/Odile on
opening night. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">But that wasn’t always the case for this graceful---and
technically skilled---artist. PNB had other wonderful principal dancers when Lesley was coming up: Kaori Nakamura, Noelani Pantastico, Carla Korbes and Carrie
Imler to name just a few. She kept working, kept performing, and has danced hundreds of roles over her career.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Lesley has always been a technical whiz, a dancer who
executes the classical choreography with precision. But I first really noticed her
artistry in the 2017 PNB production of Jean Christophe Maillot’s <i>Cendrillon</i> (which we English speakers know better as <i>Cinderella)</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn9ZeQrtqI0TsLvvqQC5XAHpAXY5V5xtstQhLO-XIvf8Gn467h2_nkFk0Yi24O_puPcUubLOZgouLVL-sbjhUMLA_eZnuthf18qJIlQyDY3dCTDJhdBGB9VruzZdHm6gUnE9gJtQwlBKaDiWOujc5BoqfsTV059FeEWabzpCpyJDm_mTeC8i_ck3ji/s2700/Cendrillion%20408.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2700" data-original-width="1800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn9ZeQrtqI0TsLvvqQC5XAHpAXY5V5xtstQhLO-XIvf8Gn467h2_nkFk0Yi24O_puPcUubLOZgouLVL-sbjhUMLA_eZnuthf18qJIlQyDY3dCTDJhdBGB9VruzZdHm6gUnE9gJtQwlBKaDiWOujc5BoqfsTV059FeEWabzpCpyJDm_mTeC8i_ck3ji/w426-h640/Cendrillion%20408.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lesley as the stepmother in Maillot's <i>Cendrillon</i>, 2017<br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Lesley performed the role of Cinderella’s stepmother,
dressed in the most outrageous costume; it looked like she had a dragon’s tail. And
I remember so clearly how Lesley imbued that character with a touching pathos. We usually think of the stepmother as full of spite; in Maillot's version</span><span style="font-size: x-large;">, </span><span style="font-size: large;">Cinderella’s father remarries after his wife
dies, but can’t quite forget his first love. Lesley showed us the pain of a woman who can never measure up to somebody else's memory; she showed us the roots of the spite and malevolence.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I asked Lesley about that performance; I was curious to know when she felt able to bring herself fully to the story ballet roles she loves. I was surprised when she told me it hadn't even been 10 years. Her focus had been on the choreography. Only when she felt it in her bones could she reveal her emotional side to audiences. It's been worth the wait.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Over the past two post-pandemic in-person seasons, Lesley has
shown us an exquisite Giselle, a tender Odette and her a devil-may-care alter-ego Odile, plus her first “sock”
ballet, in a lovely dance created by Alonzo King. And, of course, she was electric in Ulysses Dove's <i>Red Angels.</i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMjxqW5wTcDc2gQw4ojm-ZjQS439NuHZria4q0PSIJKNEgGGoNwahMApcc5jpgMiz81u-FoLMU4OSnZMRm9cUVXQQnFYnFWaCwkFHzDTG_jjl7Z1-ppytZ7P8zJFEmexRrzHaBqZiUUlTGUXOMh5BYI2SXuZHJ1LiKZqXiR6oURJOSod2F7mZBrtGo/s3257/RedAngels.Rausch.AS.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3257" data-original-width="2172" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMjxqW5wTcDc2gQw4ojm-ZjQS439NuHZria4q0PSIJKNEgGGoNwahMApcc5jpgMiz81u-FoLMU4OSnZMRm9cUVXQQnFYnFWaCwkFHzDTG_jjl7Z1-ppytZ7P8zJFEmexRrzHaBqZiUUlTGUXOMh5BYI2SXuZHJ1LiKZqXiR6oURJOSod2F7mZBrtGo/w426-h640/RedAngels.Rausch.AS.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lesley in Dove's <i>Red Angels</i>. Photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><i><br /></i></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">One of PNB’s
first pandemic-era videos featured the exquisite principal dancer Dylan Wald as Apollo and
Lesley as one of his muses. At one point in the video, Lesley touched Dylan’s finger. I confess the shock of seeing two humans touch after the long months of social
distancing was something to savor. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB-Oy6CI53zrko4wjenpi1cyDz1pPqlR-qnPtwsSnTngjJUezjC1W-sd-fsIup9xn-0MxS-oxr4Q6RJOvGVq8peleegjv7_C6sEgOooX6R-VSg0_z3bLlaJZQ3SsKhr-8f115tHNdTyFq0tt_SV-16rYVSRviqGfwHE7RuRmheBRS97kAIUE-MTyS4/s3000/Apollo20_LT_016.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="3000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB-Oy6CI53zrko4wjenpi1cyDz1pPqlR-qnPtwsSnTngjJUezjC1W-sd-fsIup9xn-0MxS-oxr4Q6RJOvGVq8peleegjv7_C6sEgOooX6R-VSg0_z3bLlaJZQ3SsKhr-8f115tHNdTyFq0tt_SV-16rYVSRviqGfwHE7RuRmheBRS97kAIUE-MTyS4/w640-h426/Apollo20_LT_016.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lesley Rausch and Dylan Wald in George Balanchine's <i>Apollo</i><br />Photo @ Lindsay Thomas</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">A dancer’s career is far too short; just as she reaches her
peak artistry, her body tells her it’s time to move on. I’m so grateful to have
gotten to know Lesley a bit more, to have a window into her hard work and mental preparations, and, above all, to watch her end her career the way she’d
intended: dancing the roles she loved, giving audiences indelible moments to
remember. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJNZTyRrrZXZvsvQGCJownT5HQxfyANKSdunhk1wSU5W7CVN4KJItyZLcDe5zU9GVH3fRVl_wX9mRyw9t1KznwR0dTGb2zrtHHSHeWw6VNTCx1b6w-7WHEdPH4b4ycgXJyishpmGYUpVOI4x-OW-ob2J19ZgD1XH42oV_J0fRfCwmbsxTok6UDDofU/s2400/MSND.14.Rausch-Thomson.0566.AS.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1886" data-original-width="2400" height="502" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJNZTyRrrZXZvsvQGCJownT5HQxfyANKSdunhk1wSU5W7CVN4KJItyZLcDe5zU9GVH3fRVl_wX9mRyw9t1KznwR0dTGb2zrtHHSHeWw6VNTCx1b6w-7WHEdPH4b4ycgXJyishpmGYUpVOI4x-OW-ob2J19ZgD1XH42oV_J0fRfCwmbsxTok6UDDofU/w640-h502/MSND.14.Rausch-Thomson.0566.AS.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lesley Rausch and Ezra Thomson in George Balanchine's <i>A Midsummer Night's Dream</i><br />Photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">We hope to see Lesley perform in April in <i><a href="https://www.pnb.org/season/midsummer-nights-dream/">George Balanchine's A Midsummer Night's Dream.</a></i> PNB will honor Lesley’s career on <a href="https://order.pnb.org/23-encore?&promoApplied=true">June 11 at the
Season Encore performance.</a> I’ll be sitting in McCaw Hall that evening to show
my appreciation for an artist and for a truly lovely human being.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>rowermarciehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521108522583895812noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961987583859476165.post-40241115503990637102023-02-06T14:23:00.002-08:002023-02-06T16:31:21.868-08:00PNB Gave Me The Wilis. Huzzah!<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjNzTWGcjG9SngDUK7fFbAVZPP0WRigUuN068EPEBFpbUhoAboqVt7onv2yRlZEXh60oCGztBoWsu7qSGVN3KoyLV0FGD3y5kpRue7I_T77F9l06nOVH3LhHLuNm5S-9idn-wiCO79knDIaB1kWCq78TYNJSD2nJeXawaZX3dbhSOVIVVA0YZ9wvc9/s3300/GiselleDress%200908%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2536" data-original-width="3300" height="492" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjNzTWGcjG9SngDUK7fFbAVZPP0WRigUuN068EPEBFpbUhoAboqVt7onv2yRlZEXh60oCGztBoWsu7qSGVN3KoyLV0FGD3y5kpRue7I_T77F9l06nOVH3LhHLuNm5S-9idn-wiCO79knDIaB1kWCq78TYNJSD2nJeXawaZX3dbhSOVIVVA0YZ9wvc9/w640-h492/GiselleDress%200908%20(1).jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PNB Principal Dancer Elle Macy as Myrtha, Queen of the Wilis in the current production of <i>Giselle</i></td></tr></tbody></table> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> photo @ Angela Sterling</span><br /><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Let me confess right from the start: I am not a huge fan of 19<sup>th</sup>
century story ballets.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">BUT.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I love <i>Giselle</i>. Partly that’s because it features
some amazing dancing. But mostly because the band of female ghosts who emerge
in Act 2 have stolen my heart. And their queen, Myrtha? I think she’s my
favorite character in all of story ballet-dom. They’re truly the reason you
need to see Pacific Northwest Ballet’s current production before it closes on
February 12<sup>th</sup>.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">To be honest, I don’t love Giselle, the main character,
although on opening night, principal dancer Lesley Rausch was close to
perfection, sassy in Act I and ethereal in Act 2. Plus jumpin’ James Kirby
Rogers as her true love Albert, danced gorgeously that night.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2ANVDZZMeF4D-8HrcXANux28KdsjARIA3i3DB8lf6MpJpgour0l2Nz6h7eGl0MB8BER2TFQWmqe0syonzOROTvnKcUGg6SPTr8fVzUz6JbaGfbuenDa4Bl3k_I9HK9JBcjrdIRg4w19lxOzFGbjUi7n8wEW_0A2XFwXd0apsk__I4sw00GuhCCvZ3/s3300/GiselleOpen%20014.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3300" data-original-width="2593" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2ANVDZZMeF4D-8HrcXANux28KdsjARIA3i3DB8lf6MpJpgour0l2Nz6h7eGl0MB8BER2TFQWmqe0syonzOROTvnKcUGg6SPTr8fVzUz6JbaGfbuenDa4Bl3k_I9HK9JBcjrdIRg4w19lxOzFGbjUi7n8wEW_0A2XFwXd0apsk__I4sw00GuhCCvZ3/w502-h640/GiselleOpen%20014.jpg" width="502" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Giselle and Albert get cozy on a bench, before everything goes to hell<br />James Kirby Rogers, left, with the incandescent Lesley Rausch in this photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I guess I should back up and tell you more about this ballet. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">First off, it’s old, probably the oldest work in PNB’s repertoire. It debuted
in Paris in 1841. PNB’s version was reconstructed in 2011 from three different
19<sup>th</sup> century sources, decoded by dance/music historians Doug
Fullington and Marian Smith and staged by PNB artistic director Peter Boal. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Here's the plot in a nutshell. A beautiful young peasant
woman named Giselle falls for the new guy in town. And he falls for her. Problem is, he says he’s a peasant, but in reality, Albert is slumming it. He’s actually a nobleman.
AND he’s engaged to someone else, a noblewoman named Bathilde, the daughter of
a prince. Uh oh...<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Giselle finds out the truth about Albert from a fellow
peasant named Hilarion, who’s in love with Giselle. She goes nuts and dies of a
broken heart. Curtain down on Act I.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Now we get to the best part. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHfT0RhDD_xn2PwetPycREwUPIMct1H85K9o9OSyaMmzvL__ziJVc5VUBO-7tvJvRuysHSxRRLi30ZxCTNYv222PJUwEsy-GR1YpqmzM34we6gNnunTvh1lBVa4pzPGy2mwJGPdooylu-AEowttwe9Pt5CGh8WrohafPuWoO2P-67jw1mniNAkzB3C/s2094/GiselleDress%200811.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2094" data-original-width="1532" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHfT0RhDD_xn2PwetPycREwUPIMct1H85K9o9OSyaMmzvL__ziJVc5VUBO-7tvJvRuysHSxRRLi30ZxCTNYv222PJUwEsy-GR1YpqmzM34we6gNnunTvh1lBVa4pzPGy2mwJGPdooylu-AEowttwe9Pt5CGh8WrohafPuWoO2P-67jw1mniNAkzB3C/w468-h640/GiselleDress%200811.jpg" width="468" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wilis!<br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">The action moves to a forest that’s haunted by the ghosts of
women like Giselle whose lovers have done them wrong. If you’re a man who
ventures into their territory at night, well, watch out, because these ghosts
are bent on revenge. They’re called Wilis, they dress in white with little
wings on their backs, and their leader is the all-powerful Myrtha. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrl2DpuLlxtHxxKktY037bhd_NV5m-gV_Quhz0R11jNB4Uj2seYo6aHTtyqhBbg0izAKumKU29D3ijVmBB-q7tdW7kzbY3fQ7iCKoqXw9IZvZQ0Zjdfu0z2eWelVEsrmN5iiClhbxsmhf44Ie_bi_j40usxhJcvbFFuEKwu739Rhnt8Ixq8U9AsYMk/s3300/GiselleDress%200869.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1840" data-original-width="3300" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrl2DpuLlxtHxxKktY037bhd_NV5m-gV_Quhz0R11jNB4Uj2seYo6aHTtyqhBbg0izAKumKU29D3ijVmBB-q7tdW7kzbY3fQ7iCKoqXw9IZvZQ0Zjdfu0z2eWelVEsrmN5iiClhbxsmhf44Ie_bi_j40usxhJcvbFFuEKwu739Rhnt8Ixq8U9AsYMk/w640-h356/GiselleDress%200869.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dancing in the moonlight, but nothing feels warm and right with the Wilis<br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">The dancer who portrays Myrtha has to be fierce. Not only
does she have to execute technically challenging choreography, leaping and
spinning across the stage. She’s got to lead her Wilis in the charge against
the men who, in my opinion, truly need to be held accountable for their
actions. The Wilis don’t use weapons; they dance unsuspecting men to
their deaths.<o:p></o:p></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTZp6L6i-ZM_ihOjKUOY0gV6Hb4CGed6-UWjYrowQ0m2SmEYEJgTt_XvnIBylG77MXwNHCef1lVHWVeHau6H0MQzYcRP91V__bkJ_LyVsos4F1gxYWveiiCpb6FcelF-pMdb8W4wjw4QtagK86jqHvKfnSyZf2Pbense1Y0cLKdVRgYUHGMgPceaA8/s3300/GiselleOpen%20095.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3300" data-original-width="2201" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTZp6L6i-ZM_ihOjKUOY0gV6Hb4CGed6-UWjYrowQ0m2SmEYEJgTt_XvnIBylG77MXwNHCef1lVHWVeHau6H0MQzYcRP91V__bkJ_LyVsos4F1gxYWveiiCpb6FcelF-pMdb8W4wjw4QtagK86jqHvKfnSyZf2Pbense1Y0cLKdVRgYUHGMgPceaA8/w426-h640/GiselleOpen%20095.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elle Macy as Myrtha on opening night of PNB's 2023 production of <i>Giselle</i></td></tr></tbody></table> photo @ Angela Sterling<br /><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">There’s a lot of old-time mime in this ballet (don’t worry,
PNB provides a “glossary” in the program); all you really need to know is
the mime movement that conveys “dance.” It comes up repeatedly in the first act, when
Giselle tells her mother she’d rather dance than go work in the vineyards. (Can
you blame her?). Myrtha is all over the dance mime in Act 2.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">In essence, the dancer who’s miming holds both arms in front
of her torso. One arm at a time, she makes circular gestures, raising her arms
up above her head. It looks a little like somebody gesturing you to get the ball rolling. Believe me, you’ll understand what I’m saying when you see
the ballet.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Y60EBX5IWMs9nBUAmZR9RrOEzx5a9NGR1LeovjUW5JDhcaKmzxW-xWb0lWlyLWXKqsKkEypqcqw9NP4Fma_J7EOCj0R2ygDOTX_Jzw-VCPMHQy3qrp6Lti9hKXhWvpiW1Y2IKcEOe3ObrM2bZvnJYZRXLCDK4R6IqWSUBiyb073YuRabYYrA5JOG/s3300/Giselle2AJA%200054.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3300" data-original-width="2593" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Y60EBX5IWMs9nBUAmZR9RrOEzx5a9NGR1LeovjUW5JDhcaKmzxW-xWb0lWlyLWXKqsKkEypqcqw9NP4Fma_J7EOCj0R2ygDOTX_Jzw-VCPMHQy3qrp6Lti9hKXhWvpiW1Y2IKcEOe3ObrM2bZvnJYZRXLCDK4R6IqWSUBiyb073YuRabYYrA5JOG/w502-h640/Giselle2AJA%200054.jpg" width="502" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PNB soloist Amanda Morgan looking regal as Myrtha<br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">When Myrtha and her band encircle a man, Myrtha mimes “dance,”
then she points at her captive’s feet. The meaning is pretty clear. It’s like
one of those old Westerns, where the villain shoots bullets at the hero’s boots
and tells them to “dance, sucker.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">When Albert wanders into the forest to lay flowers on
Giselle’s grave, Myrtha and her posse nab him and he’s almost danced to death.
Almost, because Giselle pleads with Myrtha to save him. Her efforts kill enough
time that dawn arrives before the Wilis can finish off Albert. They disappear
offstage, back to their tombs or wherever it is that Wilis hide out during
daylight hours.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Yep, they’re like Zombies or werewolves, or whatever other
creatures can’t function once the sun comes up. Once they’re gone, the audience
is left to savor the memories of these dancers, their stern faces, and the way
they first take the stage, in white veils, their bodies angled forward in two
straight lines, like perfectly matched knives in a butcher’s block. Ooh, it’s
something to behold!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXOgsWYO46RQClB9VkGns-R4JwQyUrxo4Qv3I8VZjVzQ7RcLz5HsEoDyNsxNKeqPDAVWjWivatAnH5PPyXuvy9JGCZeumvfrIfRxblCkjN-5XE5Dtb7VfZnfgQEvenY8vyqLERQ8qbgsAamiAi2CaOl4gSs8inxv8nz8GuU5XO3RvgPLLh2v6FDskL/s3300/GiselleDress%200984.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1797" data-original-width="3300" height="348" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXOgsWYO46RQClB9VkGns-R4JwQyUrxo4Qv3I8VZjVzQ7RcLz5HsEoDyNsxNKeqPDAVWjWivatAnH5PPyXuvy9JGCZeumvfrIfRxblCkjN-5XE5Dtb7VfZnfgQEvenY8vyqLERQ8qbgsAamiAi2CaOl4gSs8inxv8nz8GuU5XO3RvgPLLh2v6FDskL/w640-h348/GiselleDress%200984.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wilis!<br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I’ve embarked on a quest to see all three PNB Myrthas. Principal
Elle Macy killed it on opening night; she shares Myrtha duties with fellow
principal Cecilia Iliesiu and soloist Amanda Morgan. They’ll be performing in
different shows this coming weekend, so check <a href="https://www.pnb.org/season/giselle/">here</a> for casting information.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja-BBCUqr1HhNIr0B2GTrGDPsc3Z8Jkbw_qxejnrtaLkhAFT3HjjbutYhCzaApdGo6zE-mC-Dt5sxWiExPKyLh0Q1ecZkw4VsILAxOg0Y-RmDPY6YIDD5Z5t8v8d1KqsTmqzw_Nqv_OIOkGoEjxeV2psuUkPr_pmuwJqm5hkiIiS54nq2QL_PYruOG/s3300/GiselleSatEv%20163.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3300" data-original-width="2593" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja-BBCUqr1HhNIr0B2GTrGDPsc3Z8Jkbw_qxejnrtaLkhAFT3HjjbutYhCzaApdGo6zE-mC-Dt5sxWiExPKyLh0Q1ecZkw4VsILAxOg0Y-RmDPY6YIDD5Z5t8v8d1KqsTmqzw_Nqv_OIOkGoEjxeV2psuUkPr_pmuwJqm5hkiIiS54nq2QL_PYruOG/w502-h640/GiselleSatEv%20163.jpg" width="502" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PNB Principal Dancer Cecilia Iliesiu as Myrtha. Fierce, right?<br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I think I must be an outlier when it comes to <i>Giselle</i>.
Some of my fellow ballet nerd pals call Myrtha the villain of the piece,
and they’re saddened that Gisele and Albert can’t fulfill their love. At least while they're both alive. Frankly, I
can’t work up a lot of sympathy for Albert when the Wilis are trying to dance
him to death. Okay, maybe he doesn’t deserve to die, but he did break at least
one woman’s heart (Bathilde </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span>also </span><span>was wronged, but she doesn’t do much except take Albert back). Shouldn’t Albert have to atone for his actions</span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">?</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG69xrjo02q5lX4t6pc0-Et5fOq0gLVG84tb38yQCNNQj5-SnZYFbu_X_sYI1uXD3q2FUI35dZXgkAHQUtz5kOSAVCZpfza6kCz_9JbF0IlOAsW64DyJRk_U8zrEdSmNaxkzgOcZFXRY3IRLyUYpbpWCnzQq0yJmpyOgF3hp0b025UZXB-xJun3W9c/s3300/GiselleOpen%20215.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3300" data-original-width="2201" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG69xrjo02q5lX4t6pc0-Et5fOq0gLVG84tb38yQCNNQj5-SnZYFbu_X_sYI1uXD3q2FUI35dZXgkAHQUtz5kOSAVCZpfza6kCz_9JbF0IlOAsW64DyJRk_U8zrEdSmNaxkzgOcZFXRY3IRLyUYpbpWCnzQq0yJmpyOgF3hp0b025UZXB-xJun3W9c/w426-h640/GiselleOpen%20215.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Giselle and Albert, aka Lesley Rausch and James Kirby Rogers<br />Does he really deserve her love??<br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Myrtha and the Wilis are there to mete out justice. Even in
contemporary dance, we don’t often see resolute women like them. What am I saying? We rarely see tough women portrayed in any art form, which is one reason I like <i>Giselle</i> so much.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">To me
the Wilis are role models, standing firm in a world where their dreams of happiness
don’t seem to count as much as their male counterparts’. Well, standing firm in the afterlife. They kick ass.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">And the dancing isn't shabby either.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Pacific Northwest Ballet's production of <i>Giselle</i> is onstage at McCaw Hall Thursday, February 9-Sunday, February 12.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>rowermarciehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521108522583895812noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961987583859476165.post-90784062639367917532022-12-18T13:19:00.004-08:002022-12-19T09:16:43.265-08:00It's All About the Dancers!<p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1aWyZI6oBwuCbanFa6c2mKgqbPweyNS_6LF30xuAZt-W2QdJizydPHlD3doIX_QG5OqXTVHgJgV1HYaCWMg2uSMDhIJUk8eG4qw4jbvPxYTro00KNK8Qc3r1c1f4hW1DNvUIy0XqnDHZt3rjyYjqEbGYxubEywVa-7blpk0Vp0caotPCFp_UjkuUr/s3300/PNBNutBckstg2%200210.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2200" data-original-width="3300" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1aWyZI6oBwuCbanFa6c2mKgqbPweyNS_6LF30xuAZt-W2QdJizydPHlD3doIX_QG5OqXTVHgJgV1HYaCWMg2uSMDhIJUk8eG4qw4jbvPxYTro00KNK8Qc3r1c1f4hW1DNvUIy0XqnDHZt3rjyYjqEbGYxubEywVa-7blpk0Vp0caotPCFp_UjkuUr/w640-h426/PNBNutBckstg2%200210.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The inimitable Noelani Pantastico in Tea/Arabian in PNB's 2019 <i>Nutcracker</i><br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">A few weeks ago I jotted down some thoughts after the opening night of Pacific Northwest Ballet's latest production of George Balanchine's <i>The Nutcracker. </i>Mostly I was whining about rude audience members and their cellphones. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I posted my essay to social media, and was deluged with other stories about ridiculous behavior at live performances. But one commenter pulled me up short. She wondered what I thought about the ballet itself. And I realized that, while I'm impressed by the orchestra, the sets and costumes, and the big Snowflake and Flower waltzes, I don't go to <i>Nutcracker</i> to be awed by the show, not for the little girls twirling in party dresses onstage (and off), not even for the ballet itself.</span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOUq0QrnRAbWbY-TniR9hO1xpJqln7QYCi8qlXqUvguzjF_r7PxnXYyVj3Oo-Zfg7sm3WCPOgTbPWEtRPuKlXTbQrlunnj7ozIHqWJj-v4yZrbZ122_W3a95tVQw_2GPmDTVt-GuwNwV7U8oOthvpJCNsUj_yDp-R1HPJE6qiyG6Vm8bS_XO6cMOdf/s3300/PNB-TheNutcracker-3.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2200" data-original-width="3300" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOUq0QrnRAbWbY-TniR9hO1xpJqln7QYCi8qlXqUvguzjF_r7PxnXYyVj3Oo-Zfg7sm3WCPOgTbPWEtRPuKlXTbQrlunnj7ozIHqWJj-v4yZrbZ122_W3a95tVQw_2GPmDTVt-GuwNwV7U8oOthvpJCNsUj_yDp-R1HPJE6qiyG6Vm8bS_XO6cMOdf/w640-h426/PNB-TheNutcracker-3.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PNB principal dancer Leta Biasucci soared as Sugar Plum Fairy in 2019<br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I go to see the dancers.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Before you respond 'well, duh Marcie,' let me explain.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I've seen this particular <i>Nutcracker</i> produc</span><span style="font-size: large;"><span>tion at </span><span>least</span><span> 15 times since PNB debuted it in 2015; twice a year, sometimes three times, for seven seasons. The story is almost incidental to my experience. It's not that I dislike attending another performance; quite the opposite. I'm looking for dancers who shine.</span></span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoqUB-HYGpWY2iaT3FbGYO1HqFaLqqSrrzmpt3jtpTr3zBZiBLHt0msBTx-_48SI6cbjwiGwGTvcUSUktp1WuyPZJoRQZvIwDiNGzm7i3qnREmDXAdmwGEbqdHMR9uBAlw8oDO4Go0AHeXJ0REEb5O7QGb_RM8Vde1FlLru8Xd880eJbe46ZzTVMwb/s3300/Nut2021C%200243.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2408" data-original-width="3300" height="468" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoqUB-HYGpWY2iaT3FbGYO1HqFaLqqSrrzmpt3jtpTr3zBZiBLHt0msBTx-_48SI6cbjwiGwGTvcUSUktp1WuyPZJoRQZvIwDiNGzm7i3qnREmDXAdmwGEbqdHMR9uBAlw8oDO4Go0AHeXJ0REEb5O7QGb_RM8Vde1FlLru8Xd880eJbe46ZzTVMwb/w640-h468/Nut2021C%200243.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Covid-era Clara and party guests, 2021. Ezra Thomson delights as Drosselmeier<br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">During Act I I'm watching the kids in the party scene, particularly the various incarnations of Clara's naughty younger brother Fritz. I recognized him as one of last year's party boys. He has a wild head of hair and the military party hat wouldn't stay put. This year his Fritz was as exuberant as his hair.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Act II is all about featured company members, and for me, that's what makes Nutcracker a magical experience. Hefty roles like Sugar Plum Fairy and Dewdrop are pretty but also technically tricky, and I'm looking to see how the dancers navigate them. </span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUCUAzJkk_IYixg-TWT0GScgzkD934w0ko9jaG1o83KsjZhhuZb213o4Pzk3nA_kgtBDd_n3t2RblEpKTlG05iJysNojmovxox4bxNaUndawGzZrrc8B-avjCpkxiroWu9RZgBEfeHmyA8x_Tq_-cKvCiyM-4EtOPYckLtjzW-lhQXtshMcX7I4yRc/s2700/NutBckstg2017%20%200856.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2700" data-original-width="2121" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUCUAzJkk_IYixg-TWT0GScgzkD934w0ko9jaG1o83KsjZhhuZb213o4Pzk3nA_kgtBDd_n3t2RblEpKTlG05iJysNojmovxox4bxNaUndawGzZrrc8B-avjCpkxiroWu9RZgBEfeHmyA8x_Tq_-cKvCiyM-4EtOPYckLtjzW-lhQXtshMcX7I4yRc/w502-h640/NutBckstg2017%20%200856.jpg" width="502" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here's principal dancer Elizabeth Murphy's 2017 Dewdrop. She's exponentially more lovely in 2022<br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">This year both Dewdrops I saw--principal dancers Angelica Generosa and Elizabeth Murphy--brought a deft and sparkling lightness to the role. And I was fascinated to watch soloists Sarah-Gabrielle Ryan and Ezra Thomson as Sugar Plum and her Cavalier. They had an almost tender partnership, with lots of eye contact. As always, Ryan threw her entire being into the role, and Thomson was her steady rock.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Beyond the usual suspects, it's always inspiring when a corps de ballet member gets a turn in the spotlight. PNB presents almost 40 shows this year, so there are many opportunities for less experienced company members to step up, whether to entertain an audience, or demonstrate to boss Peter Boal they have what it takes to go far. </span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwQH5FRypis4jE_uepUnUkKYFXpnttHGpkSvNxedmmettV2_mccN_0k_E2gt6GoGiJOA254eDude5C-S1BZ_PjO-56N1BLodUXuieX1yqpqY8A-Y2lAkkqGKupMCkjk3kcXMPWQ6OvJPtZsGwOkgDn7lzT-v4mU1WWffNsGoMsCcygveoqtVocaFIJ/s2700/Nutcracker2017%20%201114.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="2700" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwQH5FRypis4jE_uepUnUkKYFXpnttHGpkSvNxedmmettV2_mccN_0k_E2gt6GoGiJOA254eDude5C-S1BZ_PjO-56N1BLodUXuieX1yqpqY8A-Y2lAkkqGKupMCkjk3kcXMPWQ6OvJPtZsGwOkgDn7lzT-v4mU1WWffNsGoMsCcygveoqtVocaFIJ/w640-h426/Nutcracker2017%20%201114.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I haven't seen principal dancer James Yoichi Moore as the lead Candy Cane in several years. <br />Angela Sterling captured this photo in 2017</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">It could be a chance at Sugar Plum, or the sinuous Tea/Arabian solo, and I'm always interested to see which tall dancer will climb stilts and don the 60-pound Mother Ginger dress, or dazzle us with double and triple hoop jumps as the lead Candy Cane.</span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3cPN46kvUfkDu4gqY6zTlk7gaW1dhQNTgBxcAhw3_JjQ_UAAPyilxTD9jNFUN42yfXP2RFdHlLJZDpJJ-bLPd0TDfLU84L_GKwwlsRbcc3iWC0bBLoicBN-WpD4aUuqzcHzjDefQd_IP2uJm31P0pZv0QU7Im00Q3hxTdrfh20wEKvBFe1SQl0xmK/s3300/Nut2021C%200834.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2200" data-original-width="3300" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3cPN46kvUfkDu4gqY6zTlk7gaW1dhQNTgBxcAhw3_JjQ_UAAPyilxTD9jNFUN42yfXP2RFdHlLJZDpJJ-bLPd0TDfLU84L_GKwwlsRbcc3iWC0bBLoicBN-WpD4aUuqzcHzjDefQd_IP2uJm31P0pZv0QU7Im00Q3hxTdrfh20wEKvBFe1SQl0xmK/w640-h426/Nut2021C%200834.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Speaking of a dancer on fire--here's Corps member Kuu Sakuragi, definitely a dancer to watch.<br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I've seen two <i>Nutcrackers</i> this season, and in both, corps member Mark Cuddihee had his turn with the hoop. He mastered it the second time, shooting off a couple of double jumps in the big finale.</span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSAmycaeDHE5HFVMxkEti0KDpprH32JhWA4shdD-Jct6WJeJaF4M5fV9_tBMfDNawjGW5uq0XvIP1cy8ZPteg1N6kfwxTw_-zvdLIj3Mvd8yTNe2fIslY73U4NneyQOwURf0q0AvPAYqzb06yItx6eS6tQLcVL8gssJhuRd6aQnxOmaRIXi6r26p3F/s3300/NutDress22%20154.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2200" data-original-width="3300" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSAmycaeDHE5HFVMxkEti0KDpprH32JhWA4shdD-Jct6WJeJaF4M5fV9_tBMfDNawjGW5uq0XvIP1cy8ZPteg1N6kfwxTw_-zvdLIj3Mvd8yTNe2fIslY73U4NneyQOwURf0q0AvPAYqzb06yItx6eS6tQLcVL8gssJhuRd6aQnxOmaRIXi6r26p3F/w640-h426/NutDress22%20154.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's Destiny Wimpye, front row on the left. Look at her pretty foot!<br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">New apprentice Destiny Wimpye made her mark onstage, whether as one of several dozen Snowflakes, or radiating joy as a Marzipan shepherdess. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">And this year I was dazzled by Zsilas Michael Hughes' Toy Soldier and Coffee/Spanish lead. Hughes literally kicked up their heels with abandon and it was so fun to watch.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">I know that emerging star Ashton Edwards will be dancing Dewdrop on Thursday, December 22 alongside soloist Amanda Morgan as the Sugar Plum Fairy. I'm almost tempted to catch a third performance just to watch them both. You can get a ticket <a href="https://www.pnb.org/nutcracker/">here</a>.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Several years ago PNB Executive Director Ellen Walker talked to me about dancers who reflect light back to the audience, the dancers we watch onstage then thumb through our program to identify. I've never forgotten her words. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Unlike so many (most) dance writers, I don't come to this obsession from a dance background. I love to watch great performances, but more than technical prowess, I'm interested in that slippery, indefinable je ne sais quoi that imbues an artist with something that sets them apart from the crowd. In Spanish the word is 'duende.' It's about soul, and a passion that infuses each performance, whether the first or the 40th <i>Nutcracker</i> in this case. </span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2-j_5X5KFIPtS9LEAbwajZesrXVs9G2l9wIfAj0aK_AifOF2NKN194ainJNY3zmLqhu_1i71YBOD82GExr-SrdK7sMXCOoCDV_ZQDNTW36iNftCbLs_9iR_FkwphnntuyniIE9GNcNqQtriMTCRKoAIIu-Q-V7VEeioJTBXqYM9Y2XlpVc7a80nZ7/s3300/PNB-TheNutcracker-5.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3300" data-original-width="2593" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2-j_5X5KFIPtS9LEAbwajZesrXVs9G2l9wIfAj0aK_AifOF2NKN194ainJNY3zmLqhu_1i71YBOD82GExr-SrdK7sMXCOoCDV_ZQDNTW36iNftCbLs_9iR_FkwphnntuyniIE9GNcNqQtriMTCRKoAIIu-Q-V7VEeioJTBXqYM9Y2XlpVc7a80nZ7/w502-h640/PNB-TheNutcracker-5.jpg" width="502" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I *think* this is soloist Christopher D'Ariano at Mother Ginger. <br />This photo by @ Angela Sterling was taken in 2019, but D'Ariano stole the show again this year.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">After the holiday decorations, the costumes and sets get stowed away until next season, I'll be thinking of those dancers whose souls burn with that interior fire, that duende. And I'm so grateful to know I'll get to watch them again--and again--on the McCaw Hall stage.</span></p>rowermarciehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521108522583895812noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961987583859476165.post-4260081253008206942022-11-27T13:26:00.005-08:002022-11-27T14:01:45.706-08:00Snowflakes, Sugar Plums and...Cell Phones? Oh My!<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV75_KN2ipkNaDwLsIghGQ8lTVD_pA38UOubjjsF2cWbEtwbCrwAgi1cTLj98o1c3iWnq1P57Mhf50DJJ6dIpO9-dsGT9AAgrf3hS0tnFefRVumYhnq6ldxYl7SFV0ZAxfpE1GCz9YINmsIlju0XBbJ-X8ZxRuBjlGglOBxyXLeJBYhaJRR0oKsTxz/s3300/NutDress22%20154.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2200" data-original-width="3300" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV75_KN2ipkNaDwLsIghGQ8lTVD_pA38UOubjjsF2cWbEtwbCrwAgi1cTLj98o1c3iWnq1P57Mhf50DJJ6dIpO9-dsGT9AAgrf3hS0tnFefRVumYhnq6ldxYl7SFV0ZAxfpE1GCz9YINmsIlju0XBbJ-X8ZxRuBjlGglOBxyXLeJBYhaJRR0oKsTxz/w640-h426/NutDress22%20154.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pacific Northwest Ballet dancers in George Balanchine's <i>The Nutcracker</i><br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">It’s that time of the year, when longtime balletomanes and those
brand-new to ballet flock to local theaters to see versions of the holiday
classic, <i>The Nutcracker.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">In the Seattle area, we have a bevy of Nuts to choose from (including
<a href="https://spectrumdance.org/harlem-nutcracker-teaser/" target="_blank">Spectrum Dance Theater’s </a><i><a href="https://spectrumdance.org/harlem-nutcracker-teaser/" target="_blank">Harlem Nutcracker</a> </i>coming December 8th), but Pacific Northwest
Ballet’s production of George Balanchine’s <i>The Nutcracker, </i>with sets and
costumes designed by the children’s author Ian Falconer, plus dozens of dancing kids and a live orchestra, is the biggest.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">So that’s where I headed on opening night, Friday, November 25th, my stomach still
distended from our Thanksgiving feast the evening before, but looking forward
to my annual holiday ballet hit. That evening's show featured PNB principal dancer Elle Macy and
soloist Miles Pertl as the Sugar Plum Fairy and her Cavalier (the end of Act 2 pas de deux
is my favorite part of the show, no matter who dances). <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdHfI9tFWK1NqUIu1x0NjawzqQ8F3WdZa8JOqIexh7mLWpUo-hI3crmEHsJzbQ3R0E__nZGeFTUTWw0ov5xOapRFYQAJG5MdD-8oj-Knrlk9Bf7Q4Lq92yDQcWnHLTwfQrs246_M_p5mbTNFUWz3E5qLg24kCZ0ZF-fg8YwpK6GIKoD8pKzURAJ5ui/s3300/Nut2021C%200224.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2195" data-original-width="3300" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdHfI9tFWK1NqUIu1x0NjawzqQ8F3WdZa8JOqIexh7mLWpUo-hI3crmEHsJzbQ3R0E__nZGeFTUTWw0ov5xOapRFYQAJG5MdD-8oj-Knrlk9Bf7Q4Lq92yDQcWnHLTwfQrs246_M_p5mbTNFUWz3E5qLg24kCZ0ZF-fg8YwpK6GIKoD8pKzURAJ5ui/w640-h426/Nut2021C%200224.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PNB soloist Ezra Thomson as Herr Drosselmeier in the 2021 production of <i>Nutcracker</i><br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">The ever-impressive Ezra Thomson was again scheduled to take on
the role of Drosselmeier, the guy who brings Clara the eponymous Nutcracker
doll. Young dancers were set to jump through hoops, ham it up as furry mice or
toy soldiers. And <i>Nutcracke</i>r gives dance nerds like me a chance to check
out the new corps de ballet members (along with the PNB Professional Division
students) waltzing away as Snowflakes and Flowers.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBzL0_nZ17QctrRp6_o23GToZL7hV5l8PR4p3Lp5C7dnznHiVYeF65d3ij2zD5YfMR_Kson7jfRUMp96R39kthK5p0KMRK2qaitu5empQGyRM5MgyisJNy7O28E4w8BwLyXiBC5s6IgFpqtLS_VitiMGzPVuGrHvk5i6jzGjFOTX6ZRkWq91YINcFs/s3300/NutDress22%20260.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1872" data-original-width="3300" height="364" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBzL0_nZ17QctrRp6_o23GToZL7hV5l8PR4p3Lp5C7dnznHiVYeF65d3ij2zD5YfMR_Kson7jfRUMp96R39kthK5p0KMRK2qaitu5empQGyRM5MgyisJNy7O28E4w8BwLyXiBC5s6IgFpqtLS_VitiMGzPVuGrHvk5i6jzGjFOTX6ZRkWq91YINcFs/w640-h364/NutDress22%20260.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PNB dancers ready to waltz as flowers in George Balanchine's <i>The Nutcracker</i><br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Last Friday, as usual, the audience was filled with
families: young kids decked out in their holiday finery, little girls sporting
tutus and sparkly shoes, boys uncomfortable in bow ties and tucked-in shirts but excited nonetheless. Watching them is more than half the delight of the show because for kids, <i>The
Nutcracker</i> is truly magical. Their joy is contagious.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Alas, none of these happy families was seated near my party
of three. Instead, we were sandwiched between two groups of people who seemed unfamiliar
with live performance audience etiquette.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Just before the pre-recorded curtain speech (the one where
they tell you to silence your cell phones) three women bustled into the seats
in front of us. Perhaps they weren’t listening, or maybe PNB needs to add
explicit directions not to text or take telephone calls during the show,
because from the time they sat down, one of these women was involved in an ongoing text conversation. The
light from her screen distracted even when she lowered her phone to her lap. And while her companion’s phone was, indeed, silenced, that didn’t stop her from taking a
call during Act 2! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Meanwhile, behind us, a party of four younger women gabbed
continuously through the overture. I felt like a shrew when I turned to shush
them; they reinforced my guilt with elaborate eye rolling. They continued to
talk off and on for the rest of the show. BUT. They also REALLY
liked the music. So much so, they hummed along to all their favorite parts. Sweet? Not so much.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Dear new audience members: Emil de Cou and the fabulous PNB
orchestra do a great job with Tchaikovsky’s score (and every other ballet score
they perform). I love this music
as much as the women seated behind me, and sometimes I want to hum along too,
but for the love of your fellow audience members, please let the professional
musicians do their work without your musical accompaniment.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Do I sound too much like the curmudgeonly bitch on your
block who yells at the kids to get off of her lawn? Probably. Maybe I’m really
Emily Post’s lost love-child, hopelessly out of step with contemporary theater-going
practices, or at the very least, begging people not to shit on my grass.
Metaphorically speaking, of course.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">The pandemic might have you out of practice when it comes to
attending live performances. Or maybe this is your first experience of the
magic that happens in a theater. That magic is about more than what happens on
the stage; for the two-hour duration of any given performance, whether it’s <i>Nutcracker
</i>or <i>The Wiz</i> or <i>A Christmas Carol</i>, to name some of this season’s
heavy hitters, you and your fellow audience members become a temporary
community. Together with the artists on stage and in the orchestra pit, we get to witness
a unique live performance. This version of the show will never happen again.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_h8XLGwSprrdzz1k0eQgNzyPA8NS8qb0orCd1fDA_TZ03lyUHbFM5-eBo1ksjEuVbMs3ZfUISDAgZvvYPy9PvhFTcz-hXBx3VUVILg2FZd3-g31C2Zs_zLQ1WnHMzESsJYTlcx09X8MNSeqeoYgB1W3HeFj6JJky8j25PhAQOsQYjpSg0MHaeKIwL/s3300/PNBNutBckstg2%200443.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3300" data-original-width="2200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_h8XLGwSprrdzz1k0eQgNzyPA8NS8qb0orCd1fDA_TZ03lyUHbFM5-eBo1ksjEuVbMs3ZfUISDAgZvvYPy9PvhFTcz-hXBx3VUVILg2FZd3-g31C2Zs_zLQ1WnHMzESsJYTlcx09X8MNSeqeoYgB1W3HeFj6JJky8j25PhAQOsQYjpSg0MHaeKIwL/w426-h640/PNBNutBckstg2%200443.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PNB Principal Dancer Elizabeth Murphy was a glittering Dew Drop on opening night. <br />This photo by @ Angela Sterling was taken in 2019</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">If you’re looking at your phone instead of the stage, you
might miss some amazing moments: Elizabeth Murphy as the perfect Dew Drop amidst her waltzing flowers; Macy literally leaping off the stage onto
Pertl’s shoulder in that aforementioned pas de deux. Or Luther DeMyer’s Mother
Ginger, mincing onto the stage atop hidden stilts, balancing that enormous skirt, waving
relentlessly at the seated Nutcracker Prince and Clara until they waved back. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz-gyMnQAeJnsSkPC_iMDNu5qHOYUZ0Ke6c5LjiCsnUzA25_8Y-Uw2fZjvTnJEImRnYmE_iMX69msG-9dnaJRyNcUI-Bx3_BmkQYdY0zxL54aKN5wcYnxhGyR6Q8lB1ZSd6ZbBvNtnSKH6ZrhCdphuYwvF4zUBT86fd6TW8OmKYCktBV1QYv_3KgOs/s3300/PNB-TheNutcracker-5.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3300" data-original-width="2593" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz-gyMnQAeJnsSkPC_iMDNu5qHOYUZ0Ke6c5LjiCsnUzA25_8Y-Uw2fZjvTnJEImRnYmE_iMX69msG-9dnaJRyNcUI-Bx3_BmkQYdY0zxL54aKN5wcYnxhGyR6Q8lB1ZSd6ZbBvNtnSKH6ZrhCdphuYwvF4zUBT86fd6TW8OmKYCktBV1QYv_3KgOs/w502-h640/PNB-TheNutcracker-5.jpg" width="502" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This isn't Luther DeMyer, but you get the picture (by @ Angela Sterling)</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">And that was only opening night! You’ve got a few weeks to check
out your own <a href="https://www.pnb.org/nutcracker/" target="_blank">PNB <i>Nutcracker</i> at McCaw Hall</a></span><a href="https://www.pnb.org/nutcracker/" target="_blank">. </a><o:p></o:p></p>rowermarciehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521108522583895812noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961987583859476165.post-75755149958508812242022-11-14T15:09:00.011-08:002022-11-15T11:47:34.855-08:00Crystal Pite: Art That Melts the Stars<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio0EfgGTgxXo5NqDlH1wR0Qyqxw5OCDxe2FcN_E0oGqcL8ivkO04htS7Uh19YoCiDMeydZwLDRq6NmThsWxdtnwvFhszUu0M17K_82rmr2NL68VnscnIPEvWLrdXpRe-HR9E_TeazF5mZEeKYu7ruJsNEB4eHixalmZKqcQQ-1LeXapSr_9cvQuQl0/s3300/Rep2.22%20290.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3300" data-original-width="2330" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio0EfgGTgxXo5NqDlH1wR0Qyqxw5OCDxe2FcN_E0oGqcL8ivkO04htS7Uh19YoCiDMeydZwLDRq6NmThsWxdtnwvFhszUu0M17K_82rmr2NL68VnscnIPEvWLrdXpRe-HR9E_TeazF5mZEeKYu7ruJsNEB4eHixalmZKqcQQ-1LeXapSr_9cvQuQl0/w452-h640/Rep2.22%20290.jpg" width="452" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pacific Northwest Ballet company members in Crystal Pite's <i>The Season's Canon</i>, 2022<br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I was sick the first time I saw one of Crystal Pite’s dances.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">So sick that I almost stayed home in bed, but my friend Jessica
Massart from On the Boards insisted that Pite and her company, Kidd Pivot, were
absolutely not to be missed. So, in the days before Covid had us double-guessing every sneeze, headache and sore throat, I hauled myself down to OtB for a
performance that changed my life.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/VNyLjFiKrfY" width="453" youtube-src-id="VNyLjFiKrfY"></iframe></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">The year was 2011 and Pite’s creation was called <i>Dark Matters</i>. It featured
her talented dancers, a unique movement vocabulary, puppets (and masks, if I
remember correctly), evocative sets, music and lighting, and meticulous attention to
detail. These elements combined into what was, for me, a transformative artistic journey.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Unfortunately for all the dance artists I saw after that show, <i>Dark Matters</i> became my metric for great dance performances. And all too often, people not named Crystal Pite didn't meet her high bar.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBKxVM2ZO4VB85-mPfGhrnrSv43jDSCndeRBMWzDsyLwXoc8BYtCbw3Gh30ETvfcelRoAfJPqjx6QjjcFQwe3ghRe0vP6r476QRNzIGDt-TVeh7_ipxCni9EAj492ceZQtjs3ZG18NNTElUIggwgOj5nq2d3OwNzBt_37DJl2dy9hN2HJKDkKdhjTJ/s3300/Rep2.22%20189.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2103" data-original-width="3300" height="408" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBKxVM2ZO4VB85-mPfGhrnrSv43jDSCndeRBMWzDsyLwXoc8BYtCbw3Gh30ETvfcelRoAfJPqjx6QjjcFQwe3ghRe0vP6r476QRNzIGDt-TVeh7_ipxCni9EAj492ceZQtjs3ZG18NNTElUIggwgOj5nq2d3OwNzBt_37DJl2dy9hN2HJKDkKdhjTJ/w640-h408/Rep2.22%20189.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pacific Northwest Ballet company members in Crystal Pite's The Season's Canon, 2022<br />photo @ Angela Sterling<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;">More than a decade later I am still in thrall to Pite’s
genius, her ever-evolving ability to whisk me away from my daily life to some cosmic realm that seems to exist beyond time and place.</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">This
month Pacific Northwest Ballet presented the North American premiere of Pite’s epic <i>The Seasons' Canon</i>, originally created in 2016 for Paris Opera Ballet.
I saw PNB's production three times; I could have attended every performance. Simply
put, watching <i>The Seasons' Canon</i> was a transcendent experience.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">During his tenure in Seattle, PNB Artistic Director Peter
Boal has carved out a permanent place for Pite in the repertoire. In 2013, audiences were treated to <i>Emergence</i>, then in 2017 Boal and company brought us the North American premiere of her Hitchcockian noir
tale <i>Plot Points. </i>The latest addition to the Pite-a-palooza (long may it live) was this month’s production of her monumental <i>The Seasons' Canon</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Before I start loving on that ballet, let's back up to PNB's first Pite.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGdFZEieHEcGIweEPdEF1a6KeXOROBfH4lv1WwJDGqy_WU1mKU6w1vZa8ecUQ9KCF9dJB8Z_HL4hrNMtaI0RKID7X8rgl9JCQYeDDUAmRdphjC7AUsMUUTx8BKOr15usnVUfGJ4O-p1jGUEaz_4E-337fPEXvDaR_xsCSaq2vbSROC-pNhFu2IM_jU/s2100/KPite%200106.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1400" data-original-width="2100" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGdFZEieHEcGIweEPdEF1a6KeXOROBfH4lv1WwJDGqy_WU1mKU6w1vZa8ecUQ9KCF9dJB8Z_HL4hrNMtaI0RKID7X8rgl9JCQYeDDUAmRdphjC7AUsMUUTx8BKOr15usnVUfGJ4O-p1jGUEaz_4E-337fPEXvDaR_xsCSaq2vbSROC-pNhFu2IM_jU/w640-h426/KPite%200106.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pacific Northwest Ballet company members in Crystal Pite's <i>Emergence</i>, 2016<br />photo @ Angela Sterling<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Inspired by the communal lives of bees, <i>Emergence</i>
gave us a taste of Pite’s talents for harnessing the collective power of human
movement on a large stage, her ability to transform human dancers into an apian community that buzzed, literally, with energy. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Unlike a work that the choreographer might craft for her small troupe of awesome dancers, <i>Emergence</i> demands big numbers, the kind you find in a big ballet company. Watching that many bodies moving in unison, or in syncopation, was stunning, but only a promise of what awaited us in <i>The Seasons' Canon</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Plot Points</i>, with a smaller cast and a more defined story line, offered Pite's signature movement language, her fascination with masked faces, but it was smaller, more intimate than <i>Emergence</i>. I think it may have disappointed some of her devotees. That said, we were all thrilled to see it back last year.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAiCe_rMpg15url7IJ_CPCS1-Dk2n5AQmWDTGzY3Qebx24KLHem24Z3DToXactZRoimvx8dezP8My-d8FqqNAUVROvDKpIk1VchDPru0gATr72aO3CQf2JQ-gaHOCPoatPCJ_FQ0zVrG643WnvOiopZMgivXmlOQNPx64K0n1-YAIn9OEPCfozbmnw/s2700/REP2.2017%200225.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2121" data-original-width="2700" height="502" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAiCe_rMpg15url7IJ_CPCS1-Dk2n5AQmWDTGzY3Qebx24KLHem24Z3DToXactZRoimvx8dezP8My-d8FqqNAUVROvDKpIk1VchDPru0gATr72aO3CQf2JQ-gaHOCPoatPCJ_FQ0zVrG643WnvOiopZMgivXmlOQNPx64K0n1-YAIn9OEPCfozbmnw/w640-h502/REP2.2017%200225.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PNB company members in Pite's <i>Plot Points</i><br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">The thing about Crystal Pite that’s just so amazing is that she’s not only talented; she's truly nice—generous with her time in the rehearsal studio and in an interview with a nosy journalist. The first time PNB presented <i>Plot Points</i> I sat behind Pite at McCaw Hall during a Saturday matinee. She was with her young son and I was delighted to watch her open this artwork to him.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Pite's affiliation with PNB didn't preclude On the Boards from presenting Kidd Pivot. We saw <i>Tempest Replica</i>, based on
the Shakespearean tragedy, as well as the jaw-dropping <i>Betroffenheit</i>, Pite’s collaboration
with Vancouver, B.C. theater artist Jonathan Young, based
on the true story of the death of Young’s own child in a house fire. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Xfs-SEx1nCU" width="481" youtube-src-id="Xfs-SEx1nCU"></iframe></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">This
spring Kidd Pivot returns to Seattle with a new Pite/Young collaboration called
<i>Revisor.</i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Meanwhile…back to the present. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I attended the very last performance
of <i>The Seasons' Canon</i>, a Sunday matinee with a packed house, the first
truly large crowd I’d seen at McCaw Hall since the pandemic started. Seated on my right
was a dance fan who’d been at the show the night before and bought another
ticket because she simply had to see the work again.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Two other women sitting in our row had purchased tickets because
of the good buzz they’d heard about the program, although they freely admitted they really didn’t know
much about contemporary ballet. After each of the first two works on the bill
they asked the Dance Fan and me to share our thoughts on what we’d seen,
which we did. But Dance Fan and I were both more excited about seeing the Pite work, and
I worried we over-hyped it. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidHZQvWRjTiMNUyuCdqYHYDrkuVXymqhKnbXXupng1dXUYzjg75ZTDiCiicGPuPNTOaeqVxmV5DgaHWTV0qMMXcbJIaOq8nksITILMRMIJ9NFQSQpZ-WC2VnD9_Sx4dA8IXCl0Rbp3BYWP_47-pdZxY2v3dJOYcPt0sjd-WgnAu7IgxRTv8t8lk4k2/s3300/Rep2.22%20224.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2252" data-original-width="3300" height="436" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidHZQvWRjTiMNUyuCdqYHYDrkuVXymqhKnbXXupng1dXUYzjg75ZTDiCiicGPuPNTOaeqVxmV5DgaHWTV0qMMXcbJIaOq8nksITILMRMIJ9NFQSQpZ-WC2VnD9_Sx4dA8IXCl0Rbp3BYWP_47-pdZxY2v3dJOYcPt0sjd-WgnAu7IgxRTv8t8lk4k2/w640-h436/Rep2.22%20224.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PNB soloist Amanda Morgan, center, with company dancers in <i>The Season's Canon</i><br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">As the lights went down, and the PNB orchestra began to play
the re-imagined version of Vivaldi’s classic <i>The Four Seasons, </i>featuring Michael Jinsoo Lim on violin, I truly
shivered with excitement. Dance Fan had purchased a pair of opera glasses, which she trained intently on the stage. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I can't really describe what it's like to watch 50+ dancers undulate in unison, or flick their heads in careful syncopation. They were like depictions of atoms moving in concert, greater together than individually, although there were some stand out featured performances. You've probably seen a sports stadium full of people doing the wave; this was a little bit like that but SO MUCH BETTER!</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">30 minutes later, the ballet ended and, along with most of the audience, Dance Fan and I leapt to our
feet, clapping and cheering (me), and wishing we could have another 30 minutes. It was, indeed, as magical as we'd remembered. One of the women down the row leaned over to tell me <i>The Seasons' Canon</i> brought tears in her eyes.
“I’ve never cried at a dance performance before,” she confessed.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Crystal Pite’s work in general, and <i>The Seasons' Canon</i>
in particular, casts powerful spells. You don't need to be a dance expert, or even a regular ballet-goer, to appreciate her work. A former UW art professor who attended the show on my recommendation described Pite's choreography as living sculpture and that's true, although rarely does anybody stand still. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Pite's dancers coalesce like kaleidoscopic colored glass bits into an ever-changing gallery of unearthly images, framed by an amazing backdrop that also is continually in motion. The result is a work of ineffable beauty; fleeting, but indelibly
etched in my memory. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">This morning, as I sat down to write about this work, I was
reminded of something Gustav Flaubert wrote in his novel <i>Madame Bovary</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">“The truth is that fullness of soul can sometimes overflow
in utter vapidity of language…[H]uman speech is like a cracked kettle on which we
tap out crude rhythms for bears to dance to, while we long to make music that
will melt the stars.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">My words here are crude; Crystal Pite’s art truly does melt
the stars.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>rowermarciehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521108522583895812noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961987583859476165.post-10927579184123957782022-11-04T12:01:00.000-07:002022-11-04T12:01:04.353-07:00The Art and Soul of Ballet<div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBWuamE6sQQM8szCmefCoRYUtu8dpYw7wQwymHxOBuFaIvjG-2J9zKz3eGAmXuHZmknOOu97cngGn8FSmiywdmIvHZSGOjQAfeCuRqlBg1pu6110jds-iVGSG63kykDxCGm-QtnIyLUXCxDaESKBDRJLnMmb9CLCupfP80q0MhaA4pKhInYfLCB-ZC/s800/DTH%20Artistic%20Director%20Virginia%20Johnson%20with%20former%20Company%20Artist%20Anthony%20Santos%20and%20Company%20Artist%20Amanda%20Smith.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBWuamE6sQQM8szCmefCoRYUtu8dpYw7wQwymHxOBuFaIvjG-2J9zKz3eGAmXuHZmknOOu97cngGn8FSmiywdmIvHZSGOjQAfeCuRqlBg1pu6110jds-iVGSG63kykDxCGm-QtnIyLUXCxDaESKBDRJLnMmb9CLCupfP80q0MhaA4pKhInYfLCB-ZC/w480-h640/DTH%20Artistic%20Director%20Virginia%20Johnson%20with%20former%20Company%20Artist%20Anthony%20Santos%20and%20Company%20Artist%20Amanda%20Smith.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dance Theater of Harlem Artistic Director Virginia Johnson, left, with former company artist Anthony Santos and company artist Amanda Smith. Photo courtesy DTH/STG</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>November 2, 2022 was World Ballet Day, but if you aren’t part of the ballet world, or even ballet-adjacent (fans, observers, writers) the occasion probably escaped your notice. </span><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">For true ballet nerds, World Ballet Day offers an endless on-line cornucopia, performances, interviews, rehearsals and the like, all available at the click of your mouse.
I was lucky to have had a front-row, in-person seat to one of the many events streamed to audiences that day. Specifically, I was in the gallery above Pacific Northwest Ballet’s biggest rehearsal studio, Studio C, watching a company class that featured not only PNB’s wonderful dancers, but also members of Dance Theater of Harlem, who have been in Seattle this week, one leg of a month-long national tour. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1vuKXBk-r6bxl9AcJTVU_FO87TguXe1fvjQi8uqQ3hJ2wxHwwP0UpRA3LHec8cADwx1qbm3JRfbF5ixZEchS-CXSRoSqDCpzeHe1D6ZbW3F0WlGKWHKFLCoUJVDtU0yySnTSKwYLX2pIjXm5cZnkUzKju_08xrpmefFxk3PLpA97j-wOzfK1hezkP/s5184/CrystalPite-StudioC_LT_007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="5184" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1vuKXBk-r6bxl9AcJTVU_FO87TguXe1fvjQi8uqQ3hJ2wxHwwP0UpRA3LHec8cADwx1qbm3JRfbF5ixZEchS-CXSRoSqDCpzeHe1D6ZbW3F0WlGKWHKFLCoUJVDtU0yySnTSKwYLX2pIjXm5cZnkUzKju_08xrpmefFxk3PLpA97j-wOzfK1hezkP/w640-h426/CrystalPite-StudioC_LT_007.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Choreographer Crystal Pite, right, with Pacific Northwest Ballet dancers, 2013<br />photo @ Lindsay Thomas</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">I’m so grateful that I’ve been allowed to sit in on PNB classes and rehearsals many times over the past years. But this was only the second time since March, 2020 that I was invited into one of PNB’s studios, and I was thrilled for a number of reasons. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">First, even though PNB first welcomed back live audiences to McCaw Hall in September, 2021, health and safety concerns have limited access to the company’s home base, the Phelps Center, where the dancers train and rehearse. I had seen new company members perform everything from Swan Lake to Twyla Tharp’s Waiting at the Station, but when you sit in the rehearsal studio, you’re offered a glimpse of the hard work that goes into each performance. I was delighted to watch the new apprentices and other dancers who’d arrived in Seattle during the pandemic. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Beyond getting a closer look at PNB company members, the joint class allowed me to watch the Dance Theater of Harlem guests at work, a particular treat. Their polish and poise, even in a class situation, was remarkable. Perhaps they were extra sharp because the class was being streamed live, but I’m guessing they always look good. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">I was particularly interested in the DTH guests because the day before, my doubleXposure podcast co-host Vivian Phillips and I had the chance to interview their artistic director, the iconic Virginia Johnson. [<a href="https://www.doublexposurepod.com/post/the-art-and-soul-of-dance-theatre-of-harlem-a-conversation-with-virginia-johnson">Find the entire interview here]</a>.
We spoke about how and why Arthur Mitchell and Karel Shook founded Dance Theater of Harlem almost 54 years ago; how Johnson was one of the founding dancers, and how she was tapped to lead the company back from financial crisis. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO2mVHgazDq1_BhqM5mckog9hGpi2TOv6weAZsOLRKxSLBVmEUXjoCU0_XXiUSW3Wi2f6BqZo6d59gMyxbB7LcdbXrKlPUjM3J89NJ6u36USk-MwZ7u6uAwFXIS1O-u1qhCs6eHFTcubhaS05MEDy8rZUotWSiYM9gusGaUeWrWeEf-plR0liiGXK1/s2100/AirTwyla%200104.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1400" data-original-width="2100" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO2mVHgazDq1_BhqM5mckog9hGpi2TOv6weAZsOLRKxSLBVmEUXjoCU0_XXiUSW3Wi2f6BqZo6d59gMyxbB7LcdbXrKlPUjM3J89NJ6u36USk-MwZ7u6uAwFXIS1O-u1qhCs6eHFTcubhaS05MEDy8rZUotWSiYM9gusGaUeWrWeEf-plR0liiGXK1/w640-h426/AirTwyla%200104.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kiyon Ross (ne Gaines) in Twyla Tharp's<i> Waiting at the Station</i><br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">But the ballet nerd in me was curious to learn more about how Johnson was thinking about ballet’s future, both in terms of what is presented on stage, but also who we see. While Johnson believes classics like the 19th century story ballets and George Balanchine’s neo-classical repertoire need to be preserved and performed, she’s adamant that ballet needs to be responsive to contemporary society.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">“We have to be brave innovators,” she said.
That means not only tapping a wide array of artists to create new ballets that reflect a diversity of stories and visions; it also means expanding the artists who are on stages depicting and embodying those artistic visions.
And it means that audiences need to open our minds and our hearts to embrace the innovations, whether that means a flock of swans of different sizes, shapes and colors, or a program of contemporary programs that push traditional notions of what ballet is. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">This weekend offers the opportunity to revel in contemporary ballet. <a href="https://www.stgpresents.org/calendar/13042/dance-theatre-of-harlem">DTH is touring a new work called Sounds of Hazel, about a talented and under-celebrated artist named Hazel Scott, onstage at the Paramount Theater. </a></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">
Across town at McCaw Hall, <a href="https://www.pnb.org/season/seasons-canon/">PNB offers an exciting mixed bill this weekend and next featuring the North American premier of Crystal Pite’s The Season’s Canon, and a world premier, Catching Feelings, choreographed by Dwight Rhoden.</a>
If you’re thinking about expanding your horizons, this is the weekend to do it. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">And for ballet newbies, Johnson says just give your brain a rest when you enter the theater. Open your heart to what unfolds on the stage in front of you. Yes, we can—and should—admire the physical prowess and technical precision we see, but for Virginia Johnson, ballet at its best gives shape to our inner spirit. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF0tNGZJ2oFDaHaueRmU-cE5hMaE1f7QLTsR56E2S0bhkS9pixi7nZwP9hVSg-4yTQ2CGjIs8RLR4S6KeI8xqPgLUqgxZF0woSesT5nkff6U8zlSGF-KlJa9k8eFMIXT4UPRhtjh-GQuq4Jk1Uj6QHe-FMpNpdOYNRVZW0MczfYoDAw38jPr-bXdvD/s4000/LoveandLoss-Aug19_LT_010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2667" data-original-width="4000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF0tNGZJ2oFDaHaueRmU-cE5hMaE1f7QLTsR56E2S0bhkS9pixi7nZwP9hVSg-4yTQ2CGjIs8RLR4S6KeI8xqPgLUqgxZF0woSesT5nkff6U8zlSGF-KlJa9k8eFMIXT4UPRhtjh-GQuq4Jk1Uj6QHe-FMpNpdOYNRVZW0MczfYoDAw38jPr-bXdvD/w640-h426/LoveandLoss-Aug19_LT_010.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Choreographer Donald Byrd working with PNB dancer Leah Terada on his ballet <i>Love and Loss</i><br />photo @ Lindsay Thomas</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">“Ballet is about humanity,” she says. “Ballet is about human beings doing something aspirational.” </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Watching the joint company class on World Ballet Day, savoring the joy on the face of PNB’s new Associate Artistic Director Kiyon Ross as he put these talented dancers through their paces (even dashing off a couple of jetes himself!), I was reminded of Johnson’s thoughts, of her passion for her art form.
Ballet is evolving, expanding, moving on the tides of the 21st century. So glad I get to fly above the waves to watch.
</span></div>rowermarciehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521108522583895812noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961987583859476165.post-24754096149166500092022-10-12T11:37:00.000-07:002022-11-04T12:01:16.544-07:00Zoe/Juniper Takes Us To Another Shore<p> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJHxjNeqb4RmNOOT5VlKip6x7i_KyTw7XmUcHKTwOf-NE79jU8mv9tSrcjSUvExCDgKWshfKkuQVFcL9pWGYxGymKwdSPYsFEqUApmPJShu4Pb_SuKlJsLVd2Qc6NNkyjCVTiSQs-e9LVqcoTXJbNSmTno6V6AVykxqVFAQm054RT4vlcWuFwQ6f98/s8256/DSC_6372.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5504" data-original-width="8256" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJHxjNeqb4RmNOOT5VlKip6x7i_KyTw7XmUcHKTwOf-NE79jU8mv9tSrcjSUvExCDgKWshfKkuQVFcL9pWGYxGymKwdSPYsFEqUApmPJShu4Pb_SuKlJsLVd2Qc6NNkyjCVTiSQs-e9LVqcoTXJbNSmTno6V6AVykxqVFAQm054RT4vlcWuFwQ6f98/w640-h426/DSC_6372.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nia-Amina Minor in Zoe/Juniper's <i>Always Now</i>, part of <i>The Other Shore</i> at On the Boards 2022<br />photo @ Jim Coleman</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Lying on a sheepskin throw, my head on a cushion, I gaze up
at assorted pieces of what looks like crumpled foil, suspended from the ceiling
of On the Boards’ main theater space. As the lights dim, I hold my breath in
anticipation of the performance to come.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Zoe/Juniper’s two-part creation, <i>The Other Shore</i>, had
its Seattle debut at OtB October 5-9, 2022; it’s both a live performance and a
video installation. Experiencing them was a ritual for the senses that defies
easy description but I’m going to give it my best shot.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrAKJGGOY6OBjWzh_o_nwe0mlDUuE_4Tt5aKq7Tq5FgQleNgZXKnJOtWJuzYf2P5DUvon06HHJK8674g_Mn8ygcGW7O_2rgcUXuQpHrDaNt0UoSPACFGzNSggm5ZT3hChjxY0gXLPL16y9MlX60PSdq85RUlXZbuDdIWlPyuKJLs-YFUv0o2PqSGGh/s4032/IMG_0874.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrAKJGGOY6OBjWzh_o_nwe0mlDUuE_4Tt5aKq7Tq5FgQleNgZXKnJOtWJuzYf2P5DUvon06HHJK8674g_Mn8ygcGW7O_2rgcUXuQpHrDaNt0UoSPACFGzNSggm5ZT3hChjxY0gXLPL16y9MlX60PSdq85RUlXZbuDdIWlPyuKJLs-YFUv0o2PqSGGh/w640-h480/IMG_0874.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Always Now</i>, 2018 at Jacob's Pillow<br />photo @ Marcie Sillman</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I actually had my first interaction with an earlier
iteration of this artwork in the spring of 2018 when Zoe/Juniper was in
residence at Jacob’s Pillow. Zoe Scofield and Juniper Shuey, the company’s
co-artistic directors, had embarked on an exploration of the ways that artists
and audiences interact during live performance. They wanted to change our
perspective, and what better way to do that than to put the audience in the middle of the
artistic action?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Even early on, Scofield and Shuey planned <i>The Other Shore
</i>as a two-part experience. At Jacob’s Pillow, the big barn was divided by a heavy curtain; at OtB, the audience moves from floor to floor. The two dozen attendees are divided into two
groups; in Seattle, half are led into a video installation, called <i>Future Ancestors</i>,
while the other twelve people begin with the live performance, <i>Always Now,</i>
in the room with the sheepskin throws. The two groups switch rooms midway
through. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzFmmQDMQUapuLk-dyO4PaThUhcUwrIYreyTDBaKtVHbW4s3Z0QF84LePVMpq6TkhmUtO_zbYJwuo72CXGfLRiFRJNbWv-2E8564Qy6nf3ZwfgbhMhEW_dvadFQip88wZPo8IP1I2Y5WJUoQm9zpWf4JEFxkrx-ZJwKHFVH-as9Pe1Rn23u--vY2ZQ/s8209/DSC_6303.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5473" data-original-width="8209" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzFmmQDMQUapuLk-dyO4PaThUhcUwrIYreyTDBaKtVHbW4s3Z0QF84LePVMpq6TkhmUtO_zbYJwuo72CXGfLRiFRJNbWv-2E8564Qy6nf3ZwfgbhMhEW_dvadFQip88wZPo8IP1I2Y5WJUoQm9zpWf4JEFxkrx-ZJwKHFVH-as9Pe1Rn23u--vY2ZQ/w640-h426/DSC_6303.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Always Now</i> before the audience arrives<br />photo @ Jim Coleman</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Zoe/Juniper works have always combined live dance with
stunning visuals and innovative video projections; with <i>The Other Shore </i>they
take their creative vision to new heights. <i>Future Ancestors, </i>in OtB’s
downstairs theater,<i> </i>is a large-scale video projection featuring performer Kehari
Hutchinson. The audience, seated on couches or chairs, watches as Hutchinson
emerges from under a pile of crumpled foil. The video, projected on a large,
curved surface, follows the performer through what feels like a prolonged birth
experience; it’s a slow ritual that culminates in Hutchinson’s self-anointment with
golden liquid.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Future Ancestors</i> has evolved from the live ritual I
saw four years ago at Jacob’s Pillow. While not performed live this time, it remains quietly mesmerizing, no doubt touching different chords in each viewer.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Shuey’s
video artistry is astonishing, but for me the thrill of <i>The Other Shore </i>was
the live segment, <i>Always Now</i>. It’s immersive, innovative, beautiful and
thought-provoking. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">The experience began as our small group was led to an ante-room adjacent
to OtB’s upstairs theater, where we shed our shoes and jackets. In the
dimly-lit performance space, six dancers greeted us individually, guiding us to
separate sheepskin mats laid out in two rows on a white floor. They settled us
in and explained what we might expect. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ypW3rnHe8qO9J5N1hAMAz3CDm9WC1tQqny7Ixmd1lhHWODUAZQX620MN0lxaoWguZnSIlAHWQsvyssvm-QgvOMtgFRASecu2Ei9ZXQyNgLYoZe4XxfveO3C7WNPqI5U_xoMnzhX7e9bhOp8OcPZ0q4kFfSY1YOuyM0v0vf4ld84QTtAjj2OQBQ5i/s7361/DSC_6358.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5075" data-original-width="7361" height="442" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ypW3rnHe8qO9J5N1hAMAz3CDm9WC1tQqny7Ixmd1lhHWODUAZQX620MN0lxaoWguZnSIlAHWQsvyssvm-QgvOMtgFRASecu2Ei9ZXQyNgLYoZe4XxfveO3C7WNPqI5U_xoMnzhX7e9bhOp8OcPZ0q4kFfSY1YOuyM0v0vf4ld84QTtAjj2OQBQ5i/w640-h442/DSC_6358.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nia-Amina Minor, front right, and fellow dancers, upright. Audiences members lie supine.<br />photo @ Jim Coleman</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Once we’re supine on our mats, an
almost-hypnotic score begins and the dancers start to move around us, between
us, above us. We’re on the floor, but it feels like we’re suspended in an
other-worldly cocoon, spun by lighting designer Evan Anderson, set designer
Sara Brown and sound designer Bobby McElver.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVH_THOZovowPMqSdIW-o5ELfdRvTeObeqmLEfergh572zFjjMs-ggu8tTUTiMbLSE0qQ-kFSInJNisNCmvRmEIeDsEMzFYwOQmzSQA0nkaDDk8oKf54n6NWug9Tr3OZt99ejN-lDQmoxk6Js5T7HxYqbNkix2FN_Da0HaV_MRr9q1VArszgQH0J52/s7699/DSC_6459.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4756" data-original-width="7699" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVH_THOZovowPMqSdIW-o5ELfdRvTeObeqmLEfergh572zFjjMs-ggu8tTUTiMbLSE0qQ-kFSInJNisNCmvRmEIeDsEMzFYwOQmzSQA0nkaDDk8oKf54n6NWug9Tr3OZt99ejN-lDQmoxk6Js5T7HxYqbNkix2FN_Da0HaV_MRr9q1VArszgQH0J52/w640-h396/DSC_6459.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dancer Akoiya Harris in Zoe/Juniper's <i>Always Now</i>.<br />photo @ Jim Coleman</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Lying there, you can turn your head from side to side, but
you can’t see everything that’s happening. Instead, we rely on all of our senses (well, maybe not smell!) We can feel the vibration of the
dancers’ feet on the floor, the whoosh of air when they leap over our bodies. The
lights are set up on all four sides of the space, sometimes they're reflected by the
crumpled pieces of foil on the ceiling, other times they backlight the bodies in
motion.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghet_z805N406R84y03eKu4jSy7CuRQUqYa-8XGfc4sf5e-8EtQX8VA5lHpZQi_HGfoS9HtY8Io2lwSObMXgc19_6IsPVdaxhxRlB3kuuqiQHFugPzSXHoG5k_TVbUeUeAHFC97bllp0QLN8OL2NKVBkyagz_5j-EmVnrHcsU6Q92hox4vuHaIhC4m/s8256/DSC_6438.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5504" data-original-width="8256" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghet_z805N406R84y03eKu4jSy7CuRQUqYa-8XGfc4sf5e-8EtQX8VA5lHpZQi_HGfoS9HtY8Io2lwSObMXgc19_6IsPVdaxhxRlB3kuuqiQHFugPzSXHoG5k_TVbUeUeAHFC97bllp0QLN8OL2NKVBkyagz_5j-EmVnrHcsU6Q92hox4vuHaIhC4m/w640-h426/DSC_6438.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Always Now</i> at On the Boards<br />photo @ Jim Coleman</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">From time to time, a dancer crouches over you, looking into your eyes,
creating an intimate bond we don’t get in a more typical performance where the
audience watches artists from a distance. Other times, a dancer vaults over
you, and for a tiny moment, we worry they might fall onto us. It feels a bit
like the adrenaline rush you get on a roller coaster, scary, exciting, exhilarating
all at once.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiufUteYCzE1vLR7Ij-cADYZ6AKmDk_Is5Npf1JeDpcLSleBMIVES2VbdpxwwKhLF8NxI5N5eT-jo5U1dhQ0IVTQOk2AvgH_gSehvxtah2J-6uESRYXD9JrzrGGbGTlBxXVumyxwrJ-mjgC2CkV9GNfRAsnqhvyrS4cOoGAd_s04uqRbcY2o5lJZ8vX/s4362/DSC_6349.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4362" data-original-width="4056" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiufUteYCzE1vLR7Ij-cADYZ6AKmDk_Is5Npf1JeDpcLSleBMIVES2VbdpxwwKhLF8NxI5N5eT-jo5U1dhQ0IVTQOk2AvgH_gSehvxtah2J-6uESRYXD9JrzrGGbGTlBxXVumyxwrJ-mjgC2CkV9GNfRAsnqhvyrS4cOoGAd_s04uqRbcY2o5lJZ8vX/w596-h640/DSC_6349.jpg" width="596" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Always Now</i> at On the Boards<br />photo @ Jim Coleman</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">As I lay there soaking it in, I was struck by the very “rightness”
of <i>Always Now</i>.<i> </i>Almost three years into a pandemic that kept us physically separated for
so many months, the sensory immersion of this performance, the intimate
proximity to other humans, is celebratory, revelatory and melancholy all
at once. I don't think it was meant as a commentary on this particular time in history, but it couldn't be more appropriate.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifcSs3MQh4h_H-HAm6f4_QEFV8MyMjKB6ty4iGOVlYy3vI80iIMDiw7OJLewoGC7pcT34buID-SBENjKKRvw3-gAWj0ujHxT04oDxEtXWjf16TaYRaB4YcEav1j5ODgxIJqSEs1MMHh-tPRPl7tj-x6XRZ48RI5wH6hY7mJBb4sU4vPoOAyUjaXlzo/s8256/DSC_6807.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5051" data-original-width="8256" height="392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifcSs3MQh4h_H-HAm6f4_QEFV8MyMjKB6ty4iGOVlYy3vI80iIMDiw7OJLewoGC7pcT34buID-SBENjKKRvw3-gAWj0ujHxT04oDxEtXWjf16TaYRaB4YcEav1j5ODgxIJqSEs1MMHh-tPRPl7tj-x6XRZ48RI5wH6hY7mJBb4sU4vPoOAyUjaXlzo/w640-h392/DSC_6807.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The cast of <i>Always Now, </i>October 2022, Seattle<br />photo @ Jim Coleman</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">For me, the most powerful art is a journey; I don't necessarily need a narrative, but I want each performance to move from a starting point to another plane, another shore, if you will. Zoe/Juniper’s <i>Always Now </i>did
just that for me. And in doing that, it offered up a fleeting moment of grace in these uncertain
times, a place to reflect on our human connections: our dreams, our fears and our
hopes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>rowermarciehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521108522583895812noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961987583859476165.post-36979189053285298802022-09-16T12:53:00.000-07:002022-09-16T12:53:33.359-07:00With Fresh Eyes and Heart<p> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7RcmViJtc-mmKzIwxzvourMNNP6-2lumRQzEdWruh8G_WMetgTFs6UWCW9AAXShH1HQAm208Lni24FWZRv4ul6iKi5cJG28OpNv0omivrXfGjbMStmq_PY9ZOpoiQsOWa-C8EJ8B_oT_4UK_yXKJHhIBt6nfrgICuAGhIEU3MJjprdljyFtzH_3kf/s1280/DSC_4748.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="771" data-original-width="1280" height="386" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7RcmViJtc-mmKzIwxzvourMNNP6-2lumRQzEdWruh8G_WMetgTFs6UWCW9AAXShH1HQAm208Lni24FWZRv4ul6iKi5cJG28OpNv0omivrXfGjbMStmq_PY9ZOpoiQsOWa-C8EJ8B_oT_4UK_yXKJHhIBt6nfrgICuAGhIEU3MJjprdljyFtzH_3kf/w640-h386/DSC_4748.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Andy McShea, front with fellow Whim W'Him dancers in Dolly Sfeir's <i>hard times for dreamers.</i><br />photo @ Jim Coleman, courtesy Whim W'Him</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">One of the pandemic’s upsides (you read that correctly, there were a few) has
been the opportunity to see artists with new eyes. Or at least, eyes that have
had a protracted break from live performance.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Last weekend I was happy to be in the Erickson Theater audience for the opening night performance
of Seattle contemporary dance company Whim W’Him’s 13<sup>th</sup> artistic
season. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I’ve followed artistic director Olivier Wevers and his dancers since their first show at On the Boards. Like so many performing arts groups, Whim W’Him
pivoted to digital presentations during the pandemic, and I watched those. Although the company returned to
live shows last season, I only attended one in person, so this season opener
gave me a chance to renew my admiration for Whim W'Him's very fine dancers. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I
was so happy to see two veteran company members, Karl Watson and Jane
Cracovener, back on stage, along with five other talented dancers. But, to borrow a phrase
from the publication Seattle Dances, I have a brand-new dance crush on Andrew
McShea.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd02sG9L3C_Wrwi6jbOVuGAO4XDrkjT0s85Lni-tJxaX-5S87LhIIU-UioM--R7jW8cAreeSRRs7mWFkuZGZ4fpwHSM_uTs8U5-TticyYfqHuFNsyXkPP2WidWpH1_34WCI_dBbwgzXXYIGsHzUGpNkFY0FQ4G8i0OvHKjjN7WZB__He5TtpuDCKdK/s1201/20220909_Whim%20W'Him%20Dress_Fall%20'22_0834.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1201" data-original-width="961" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd02sG9L3C_Wrwi6jbOVuGAO4XDrkjT0s85Lni-tJxaX-5S87LhIIU-UioM--R7jW8cAreeSRRs7mWFkuZGZ4fpwHSM_uTs8U5-TticyYfqHuFNsyXkPP2WidWpH1_34WCI_dBbwgzXXYIGsHzUGpNkFY0FQ4G8i0OvHKjjN7WZB__He5TtpuDCKdK/w512-h640/20220909_Whim%20W'Him%20Dress_Fall%20'22_0834.jpeg" width="512" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Andy McShea<br />photo @ Allina Yang</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I’d seen McShea perform before the pandemic shutdowns, and I
watched him in Whim W'Him's streamed offerings. But I can trace the
start of my new crush to August 10<sup>th</sup>, when WW was part of an evening
of wonderful dance presented free at the renovated Volunteer Park Amphitheater. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">That evening McShea performed a solo Wevers had choreographed for him. You know those social media posts, the ones with little
arrows drawn on a photo to grab our attention? Watching McShea dance, I felt as
if somebody had highlighted his body in flashing lights: Look at this dancer,
Marcie!</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I’m pretty sure it was the first thing I told friends about
that evening.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Anyways, back to the Erickson Theatre, where Whim W’Him’s Fall
2022 program opened on September 9<sup>th</sup>.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">As I mentioned, it was wonderful to see Watson and
Cracovener. Nell Josephine and Michael Arellano are back this season, and
equally adept. I was also struck by new company members Leah Misano and Kyle
Sangil (who we actually got to see last May when Josephine was stricken with
appendicitis). Everyone was great. But I couldn’t take my eyes off McShea.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">To be fair, in the first dance, created by Nicole von Arx,
the dancers’ heads were covered in black balaclavas for much of the time, so I
wasn’t always sure who I was watching. Believe me, I did spend some time trying to figure out who was who. But in Dolly Sfeir’s <i>hard time for dreamers</i>, the final work
of the evening, the masks were off, the dancers were distinctly visible and McShea just mesmerized me.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaMCwiEqvzTArZmvT4nnFE0GF_7ld4jSV-2IXdpBdPFOWVmIyBKPN8DVMhtj9WbP6xinJRO2Au0YXEV5jgWLxCgzrICM0jX_0OdtLgomBoYwFGZ091or09waNNvjkfScQw5CstpSR7qpYmyoIRwdZUf58H4Xi9EoVHCt_hn1NMZleqQlelaWNE643s/s1280/20220909_Whim%20W'Him%20Dress_Fall%20'22_0691.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="854" data-original-width="1280" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaMCwiEqvzTArZmvT4nnFE0GF_7ld4jSV-2IXdpBdPFOWVmIyBKPN8DVMhtj9WbP6xinJRO2Au0YXEV5jgWLxCgzrICM0jX_0OdtLgomBoYwFGZ091or09waNNvjkfScQw5CstpSR7qpYmyoIRwdZUf58H4Xi9EoVHCt_hn1NMZleqQlelaWNE643s/w640-h428/20220909_Whim%20W'Him%20Dress_Fall%20'22_0691.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Michael Arellano, left, Jane Cracovener and Andy McShea<br />photo @ Allina Yang</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>hard time for dreamers</i>, theatrical and slightly absurd in a Pina
Bausch-esque way, is set on and among a collection of early 20<sup>th</sup>
century furniture, with costumes reminiscent of that same era. The three women
wear brightly colored dresses with puffed cap sleeves and waist sashes,
designed by Pacific Northwest Ballet’s Mark Zappone. For the men, Zappone
created suits and vests cut from wide patterned plaid fabrics, paired with a
variety of hats, from straw boaters to bowlers. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Sfeir, who is also a filmmaker,
gives each dancer a character to inhabit. Josephine was a sort of haughty socialite; Sangil, a tough. McShea was a sort of bittersweet
clown.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I was gobsmacked by his ability to seemingly melt his
bones. One moment he’d be upright; the next, his body had dissolved to the
floor, his legs and arms heading in directions that defied anatomy.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxKLpNc6AHFyf1hyPYk6XJdjae4OZY68ITxJfFP0mrBUYnkJHEEeW5LqX0WSoFpYu6JLqB_6mqKS7eCfjoVjLHe0hjj4Hm-Tf5s4BkRlSzFubB0xDJDDp2GlBHn9VCNQWy4lH5YsxlqCZ7gjoRp2PDFwMNY_qQ63iTFcfgLuCel2x8gpk0pSO8aKbC/s1280/DSC_4920.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="853" data-original-width="1280" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxKLpNc6AHFyf1hyPYk6XJdjae4OZY68ITxJfFP0mrBUYnkJHEEeW5LqX0WSoFpYu6JLqB_6mqKS7eCfjoVjLHe0hjj4Hm-Tf5s4BkRlSzFubB0xDJDDp2GlBHn9VCNQWy4lH5YsxlqCZ7gjoRp2PDFwMNY_qQ63iTFcfgLuCel2x8gpk0pSO8aKbC/w640-h426/DSC_4920.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Andy McShea, photo @ Jim Coleman</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">McShea has sharp, high cheekbones, and an intensity in his eyes that contrast with his
body’s fluidity. It was fascinating to watch how he paired those with the singular
qualities of the other company members, qualities that transcend the dances they perform, like character traits that define us as individuals.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">That's been one of my favorite things about watching Whim W’Him over
the years. We may never meet Wevers’ skilled dancers one one one, but we get to know them
because they bring their full selves--and their considerable technical and artistic gifts--to every work.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWzEeVSdHo_uTx1agOahCugi8DzUvac-reIfJ96GaYumBh9Mdx37nSDarWtHAwlUlfIMXy3W4LGPqUa91edaQI9viWw5z8DxAotyMaplE5NL83wDs0wfi0UsIPGN0U6gDyRZk_ZYMSj8ekUHqBoNu4vjCeC59l8-J6Bn9oS8ug7dUwQlwr0PaJXwzF/s6000/DSCF1689.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="6000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWzEeVSdHo_uTx1agOahCugi8DzUvac-reIfJ96GaYumBh9Mdx37nSDarWtHAwlUlfIMXy3W4LGPqUa91edaQI9viWw5z8DxAotyMaplE5NL83wDs0wfi0UsIPGN0U6gDyRZk_ZYMSj8ekUHqBoNu4vjCeC59l8-J6Bn9oS8ug7dUwQlwr0PaJXwzF/w640-h426/DSCF1689.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jim Kent, center, supported by Whim W'Him company members in Olivier Wevers' <br /><i>This is Not the Little Prince, </i>photo courtesy Whim W'Him</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Dancers' performing lives are short, so we’re
constantly meeting new artists at Whim W'Him and every other dance company. It's bittersweet indeed. The great Jim Kent left Whim W’Him last year
after almost 12 seasons; Liane Aung departed last spring and both of them will
be sorely missed. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtwS1SKOzT_ddceC5wFaav8LGeOF13cyFlZ9elDLsZ9Uc3jv2393FP59pmS8EKsohjCfzd7_AY9Ng7ZlatAVs5BgMDh_i4XFlp79-zeI3EjoPkGeJ4uKhoWDXSjZ9K-n-IILJ0x-RY5k8ABcCVL6fNcO5dxHPzWgWKZFzXpTaT1BfsKlp5xn4XHyN1/s2700/DSCF6576%20(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2700" data-original-width="1800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtwS1SKOzT_ddceC5wFaav8LGeOF13cyFlZ9elDLsZ9Uc3jv2393FP59pmS8EKsohjCfzd7_AY9Ng7ZlatAVs5BgMDh_i4XFlp79-zeI3EjoPkGeJ4uKhoWDXSjZ9K-n-IILJ0x-RY5k8ABcCVL6fNcO5dxHPzWgWKZFzXpTaT1BfsKlp5xn4XHyN1/w426-h640/DSCF6576%20(2).jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Liane Aung, photo @ Bamberg Fine Arts<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">But where wonderful artists leave, new talents step up to fill
the void. I look forward to getting to know the new company members, and to
stoke my dance crush on Andrew McShea.</span><o:p></o:p></p>rowermarciehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521108522583895812noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961987583859476165.post-30200798758444166422022-09-08T11:39:00.000-07:002022-09-08T11:39:23.770-07:00Moving Beyond Time, Place, and Circumstance<p> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkvCw2kjrwSrflcDpxgVb_UEgFp_gTVoUIBvfbcd5Q0ae0tIYjfMePSKjnO2VnMhSb4XuSg2kgXkff-tAV82py2d3gBGvSbP1ZyPbltheaUuTGAnXze2pAZPgeWCr6pFWryR5ZLFr5zpwT0YLqFBx7UIpWEOMWFCrKHUVe9-BqG1r2QUfF0nC7z3Hr/s1280/Leah%20looking%20over%20arm%20on%20beach-film%20still%C2%A9Henry%20Wurtz.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1280" height="338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkvCw2kjrwSrflcDpxgVb_UEgFp_gTVoUIBvfbcd5Q0ae0tIYjfMePSKjnO2VnMhSb4XuSg2kgXkff-tAV82py2d3gBGvSbP1ZyPbltheaUuTGAnXze2pAZPgeWCr6pFWryR5ZLFr5zpwT0YLqFBx7UIpWEOMWFCrKHUVe9-BqG1r2QUfF0nC7z3Hr/w640-h338/Leah%20looking%20over%20arm%20on%20beach-film%20still%C2%A9Henry%20Wurtz.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leah Terada, rear, looks over Liane Aung's arm in <i>A Liminal Space</i><br />photo @ Henry Wurtz, courtesy Seattle Dance Collective</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">When the pandemic started two and a half years ago, I (like
many fans of live performance) wondered what it would be like to live without the
very particular thrill of settling into my seat, alongside fellow audience
members, collectively anticipating a new dance, a new play, a new concert. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Somehow, we all adjusted to art’s new digital delivery
system. The dance world offered up everything from older recordings of live
shows to odd Zoom pastiches. As the pandemic dragged on, artists adapted to the
new norm, moving beyond simple video captures to create ingenious new work for our
small screens. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">This fall most performance venues are welcoming back live
audiences, but <a href="https://www.seattledancecollective.org/">Seattle Dance
Collective’s latest film offering, <i>A Liminal Space</i></a><i>, </i>conceived
and directed by Henry Wurtz with choreographer Bruno Roque, reminded me, first,
that digital offerings are here to stay. Second, that they can be as evocative
and satisfying as a live performance.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSPtATHawx9ps29R29e4xemKayO24TFBzmKaFkUK0QOLz9nYxgPpGbKIqPDwNdRVC9veJMB91keHLKhragz6L__wf9WEwvRKbOizRMjVfUXt48Sr_OS3HdmcXxWkppxYJQZlaeq4wE2pl_neQMTDwHPRq7YgdLKt5XxTPFw7pzN6nvLxfQcw4vZ4b7/s1280/Leah%20crawl%20from%20cube-film%20still%C2%A9Henry%20Wurtz.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1280" height="338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSPtATHawx9ps29R29e4xemKayO24TFBzmKaFkUK0QOLz9nYxgPpGbKIqPDwNdRVC9veJMB91keHLKhragz6L__wf9WEwvRKbOizRMjVfUXt48Sr_OS3HdmcXxWkppxYJQZlaeq4wE2pl_neQMTDwHPRq7YgdLKt5XxTPFw7pzN6nvLxfQcw4vZ4b7/w640-h338/Leah%20crawl%20from%20cube-film%20still%C2%A9Henry%20Wurtz.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leah Terada crawls out from the white fabric cube<br />photo @ Henry Wurtz</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>A Liminal Space </i>begins inside a white cloth cube.
Dancer Leah Terada lies on a bed of soil, her off-white pants and sweater
covered with dark loam as she rolls and writhes. She rises from the dirt and
spots a pinpoint of light, ripping through her fabric enclosure with the help
of fellow dancer Liane Aung, who is just outside. Together they dance on a wide
Puget Sound beach, their curved arms seemingly gathering in the sun and
salt-water breezes as they revel in their freedom.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">The film moves both the cube and the dancers onto a grassy
meadow, then into a lush forest grove. Aung and Terada are dressed alike, in light
slacks and sweaters, their dark hair styled into identical single braids that
hang down their backs. Are they doppelgangers? Mirror images of the same
person? As Fabian ReimAir’s original score builds in momentum, the two women dance
in unison, circle one another, lie side by side, fingers lightly brushing up
against the other’s body.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4j9Te64flucGE74gOY9BYW-vW0yG2jxuNJH7rEXNQXf2nNvtHqScJHMwAsIYpleWD0_LjfrI7fIWBIoEdRJorbqRZl6K33H3nVBY60_0rTiXTnDfIQeD9pxCF3VcBApMunSlnTiLeGjc9xsYdxAbVKreQWEkg7N8X2WRkjjlNjphMUww4IerMECo6/s1280/Hands%20Together%20pre-rip-film%20still%C2%A9Henry%20Wurtz.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1280" height="338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4j9Te64flucGE74gOY9BYW-vW0yG2jxuNJH7rEXNQXf2nNvtHqScJHMwAsIYpleWD0_LjfrI7fIWBIoEdRJorbqRZl6K33H3nVBY60_0rTiXTnDfIQeD9pxCF3VcBApMunSlnTiLeGjc9xsYdxAbVKreQWEkg7N8X2WRkjjlNjphMUww4IerMECo6/w640-h338/Hands%20Together%20pre-rip-film%20still%C2%A9Henry%20Wurtz.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Terada and Aung working together to escape the cube<br />photo @ Henry Wurtz<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">The concept is simple, maybe even simplistic: here’s what it’s
like to be caged up, then released. We all remember how it felt when we first
emerged from pandemic quarantine; how we felt when we first met up with
friends, family, even strangers, after months of enforced social distancing. We
were confined in our own versions of the white cube; slowly we were freed to
experience the wider world and to enjoy human interaction again. Roque’s choreography
performed by these two dancers, plus the magnificence of a Pacific Northwest
summer, combine to give <i>A Liminal Space </i>more heft than it might have had
in the hands of lesser artists.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Liane Aung, who left Olivier Wevers’ company Whim W’Him this
spring after several seasons, is a standout dancer. She imbues each movement
with a crisp clarity that draws the viewer’s eye. Leah Terada, a corps de
ballet dancer with Pacific Northwest Ballet, has a softer approach to Roque’s choreography,
although she’s no less compelling to watch. Together they create a physical
harmony that elevates this short film.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrkVQS1FueQUTvjhej2rSg49enYAY1LSF9o2Rb1qnrovk7tavkB4LGhx7QJf2B5Oai7i911mycQxbjxfeR58pqcTt_z9yAzlk0pyBreC3PU-7qTJqYBIWhbPrmRCPK58ZIJE5xlaPz4cepGRy58Qth0eBO83j-DXnEPxdKdocGDfPFWAFDW3i1y6FL/s1280/Dirty%20Hand%20in%20front%20of%20face-film%20still%C2%A9Henry%20Wurtz.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1280" height="338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrkVQS1FueQUTvjhej2rSg49enYAY1LSF9o2Rb1qnrovk7tavkB4LGhx7QJf2B5Oai7i911mycQxbjxfeR58pqcTt_z9yAzlk0pyBreC3PU-7qTJqYBIWhbPrmRCPK58ZIJE5xlaPz4cepGRy58Qth0eBO83j-DXnEPxdKdocGDfPFWAFDW3i1y6FL/w640-h338/Dirty%20Hand%20in%20front%20of%20face-film%20still%C2%A9Henry%20Wurtz.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leah Terada, photo @ Henry Wurtz</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Terada is having a moment of sorts, emerging from the
relative anonymity of PNB’s corps. Two years ago, she danced on a dock with
fellow PNB company member Miles Pertl in a lovely short film <i><a href="https://vimeo.com/434884452">The Only Thing You See Now</a></i>, another
Seattle Dance Collective commission. Terada was featured in several PNB
offerings last season, giving ballet audiences a chance to see her versatility.
And I was awed by her complete dedication to her art form while watching her
earlier this summer as she performed choreographer Eva Stone’s punishing solo,
one of a series created for Stone’s site-specific <i>Sculptured Dance </i>on
Whidbey Island. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">The joy of a dance film like Wurtz’ <i>A Liminal Space</i>
is that we get a close, even intimate, view of Terada and Aung. We savor the
expression on Terada’s face when she first escapes her white cube, watch them
watch each other as they start a duet. We see how Aung gives a physical weight
to Roque’s choreography, the way she angles an elbow or crouches low into her
knees. Meanwhile Terada almost seems to float above Aung, her version of these
same movements seemingly weightless. These are details we’d miss if this dance was
performed live. In fact, <i>A Liminal Space</i> could never be live; it’s a
piece of art created by a camera intended for a screen. It’s beauty is
fleeting, like the tangy scent of the salt water carried on the breeze.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">One of the many lessons the pandemic has reinforced is the
myriad ways performance can pack an emotional wallop. I now cherish each
opportunity to sit in a darkened theater, the tingle of anticipation before the
stage lights come up on a live show. But as I watched Terada and Aung whirling
on the sand in the early morning sunshine, I felt a different kind of joy. I’m
grateful for the way artists adapted to changed circumstances, the way they
found new ways to illuminate our collective human experience. Thanks to Seattle
Dance Collective for making a space for this to continue.</span><o:p></o:p></p>rowermarciehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521108522583895812noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961987583859476165.post-67660521356242104712022-06-06T15:19:00.003-07:002022-06-06T16:14:22.109-07:00It's Hard to Say Goodbye<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD4D_i-XI8jm2SOSloH5iduUZoU1JcUzhAR-VshwzhZItShPBymD-nBsWPBGGadWf26UCV7ofxLrOyK1-sxPx2835DE4ZBu16oIHKWlurc4385Uf7HjGJ0iYX2StCjDXTOz_zrobC1UdvzJlwz59YNPCliFjfisGpxCZIQPhYqhZ3NrpK6OKsBVsL7/s2100/AirTwyla%200062.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1400" data-original-width="2100" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD4D_i-XI8jm2SOSloH5iduUZoU1JcUzhAR-VshwzhZItShPBymD-nBsWPBGGadWf26UCV7ofxLrOyK1-sxPx2835DE4ZBu16oIHKWlurc4385Uf7HjGJ0iYX2StCjDXTOz_zrobC1UdvzJlwz59YNPCliFjfisGpxCZIQPhYqhZ3NrpK6OKsBVsL7/w640-h426/AirTwyla%200062.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sarah Pasch, center, with Elle Macy, left, and Chelsea Adomaitis in Twyla Tharp's <br /><i>Waiting at the Station</i>, 2013. photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">When dance journalists write about ballet, we’re usually
focused on the choreographers or the principal dancers, the orchestra, or the sets, costumes and lighting.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">We note new creations, exemplary performances, on-stage partnerships
and the like. I think of us a bit like magpies, lured from one bright, shiny
object to the next. When a beloved ballet star gives their last performance,
we're likely to note their departures in a multitude of media outlets. The accolades are usually well-deserved; u</span><span style="font-size: large;">nfortunately, we’re not quite so attentive when other
hard-working dancers decide it's time to leave their performing careers behind.</span><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">And
that’s too bad, because I think of the corps de ballet in particular as the hardest
working, often least recognized, group of dancers in show business. This week Pacific Northwest Ballet says goodbye to two corps members: Guillaume Basso and
Sarah Pasch. The company also bids farewell to elegant PNB soloist Joshua
Grant.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV9D7K6FhvDg-NqaE2q-Bn4Ot9VLAWDRehgFk1C8OrXLnC4rX9beJrDnJ3wpZPFfIv-3iPZFtj2qmOH4YPMSPpmY7T-oDNEvEJQe79Fie62ejX9BwLz4cXGn1Ij9pUFvE5ieJklHCAh6cCiYQqEar5R5dzrLoyUhmjqnJayCVZ5jTRmALs2rkzLFSO/s2465/IMG_3692.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1962" data-original-width="2465" height="510" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV9D7K6FhvDg-NqaE2q-Bn4Ot9VLAWDRehgFk1C8OrXLnC4rX9beJrDnJ3wpZPFfIv-3iPZFtj2qmOH4YPMSPpmY7T-oDNEvEJQe79Fie62ejX9BwLz4cXGn1Ij9pUFvE5ieJklHCAh6cCiYQqEar5R5dzrLoyUhmjqnJayCVZ5jTRmALs2rkzLFSO/w640-h510/IMG_3692.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Joshua Grant-Montoya, left, with his husband Christopher Grant-Montoya and canine family members in their new school, Dance Conservatory Seattle. photo courtesy Joshua Grant-Montoya</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">One minute to recognize Grant, who has appeared in
everything from new work by David Dawson to Jean-Christophe Maillot’s <i>Romeo
et Juliette, </i>where his Paris unsuccessfully wooed a reluctant Juliet. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJy3pKLuyRZ_VyN6OWCUoxoal7U-AnmZvdKKgjp125p8sFzyXZpOR1mdh7Yp2WL6hJUoqbneNL8bl7d-Az6YoLG-BPfl6B-dJw7IGCdTbl-iCV8Nxazr0q_Hnb2khUb7HdopAC6FcDGCqeG1_oQyqBk-XBvEdGM_1iKi217A6NwZa9atia-ZkuEg3v/s4050/RJ2013%200378.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4050" data-original-width="2700" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJy3pKLuyRZ_VyN6OWCUoxoal7U-AnmZvdKKgjp125p8sFzyXZpOR1mdh7Yp2WL6hJUoqbneNL8bl7d-Az6YoLG-BPfl6B-dJw7IGCdTbl-iCV8Nxazr0q_Hnb2khUb7HdopAC6FcDGCqeG1_oQyqBk-XBvEdGM_1iKi217A6NwZa9atia-ZkuEg3v/w426-h640/RJ2013%200378.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Joshua Grant as Paris in Jean-Christophe Maillot's <br /><i>Romeo et Juliette</i>. photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">But Grant,
a veteran of Les Ballets Trocadero de Monte Carlo, was just as arresting as
Mother Ginger in George Balanchine’s <i>The Nutcracker, </i>both for his
facility mincing along on stilts supporting a 60+ pound costume that hides a troupe of kids and his brilliant comedic timing.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikAHZ1yeN8fV4_glBiYxXQk6LRc2E9K7xNRhutX_-m1gV2Bqtzv4Zw7ON2zUe0Zf8Gl0HRbXc1nRUhorQZWixPTGJvayynOD3OUjyNMJiEwIotihtnfZMMckl07nOZm7sQasJLzJ4O-PtdbnDbU6voLKTq9SYrEVpdZ3JpOuLF0qsRe2_LS0Jmj-QM/s1500/15_Nutcracker_eb_189.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="933" data-original-width="1500" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikAHZ1yeN8fV4_glBiYxXQk6LRc2E9K7xNRhutX_-m1gV2Bqtzv4Zw7ON2zUe0Zf8Gl0HRbXc1nRUhorQZWixPTGJvayynOD3OUjyNMJiEwIotihtnfZMMckl07nOZm7sQasJLzJ4O-PtdbnDbU6voLKTq9SYrEVpdZ3JpOuLF0qsRe2_LS0Jmj-QM/w640-h398/15_Nutcracker_eb_189.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Joshua Grant as Mother Ginger with PNB school students in George Balanchine's <i>The Nutcracker</i><br />photo @ Elise Bakketun </td></tr></tbody></table><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">But back to the corps de ballet, dancers who are
particularly indispensable when a company like PNB mounts big productions like <i>Nutcracker
</i>or <i>Swan Lake</i>. While our eyes may be glued to the Sugar Plum Fairy
(or Mother Ginger), or to Odette and Siegfried’s doomed love story, we can’t
help but be awed by twirling Snowflakes, or the amazing bevy of swans who take
the stage in <i>Swan Lake’s</i> Act 2, hopping in from the wings with
precision and unity. It’s hard work, physically and mentally. Odette and
Siegfried get several night’s rest in between performances, but those swans grind out shows every night.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizjKv-5A2MqzSHdFdOaABASmqPMYMNWTuOeXxUORBf7V1Qy2t7RAr9KbHNt3VKfBljUcwkeeHhxqgP5kgJndmiShthj5ZLrld0Sd3NvOoxJwQ2AsJDFH13Rq80ZQCjj6mlWbFGk_NRm-AU4gaKgFzJYIGdprB2rVfpvh-fUgSiA1J_qGvbrF2etmjv/s2700/MrBNutB%200564.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="2700" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizjKv-5A2MqzSHdFdOaABASmqPMYMNWTuOeXxUORBf7V1Qy2t7RAr9KbHNt3VKfBljUcwkeeHhxqgP5kgJndmiShthj5ZLrld0Sd3NvOoxJwQ2AsJDFH13Rq80ZQCjj6mlWbFGk_NRm-AU4gaKgFzJYIGdprB2rVfpvh-fUgSiA1J_qGvbrF2etmjv/w640-h426/MrBNutB%200564.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PNB corps de ballet members in George Balanchine's <i>The Nutcracker</i>, 2018.<br />Sarah Pasch is at far right. photo @ Angela Sterling<br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;">Leading PNB’s pack (or should I saw flock?) this year with
her trademark elegance and poise was ten-year corps de ballet member Pasch.</span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">“It was my fourth time around with this ballet,” says the 31-year
old. “I still love it.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">It will be one of many memories Pasch savors next fall, when
she trades the Marion Oliver McCall Hall stage for an elementary school
classroom. While the dancers were sidelined during the pandemic, Pasch used her
time to complete a Bachelor’s degree from Western Governor’s University, and to
focus on her now two-year old daughter Etta, who she’s raising with her
husband, PNB soloist Ezra Thomson.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">“The pandemic actually kind of worked in my favor,” Pasch
explains. “I had planned to take time off school and work when Etta was born
(January, 2020). Things changed, and I wasn’t dancing (because of the
pandemic), so even though I had a newborn baby at home, I did have time to
do school.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Last fall, Pasch needed a few more months leave from PNB to complete her
student teaching. She told her boss, Artistic Director Peter Boal, that she’d
be back for <i>Nutcracker,</i> but would retire from the company this summer.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">“I kinda used it as a consolation prize,” Pasch laughs. “If
you let me do this, I’ll retire and you can hire some younger dancers!”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXE3hHsUbVxAZHLEb5cB2HZjtZQWj_4gvGjNI3Uj9iw1yJL-n2Hy2Cni7IMu2rG-SGjaxOyRNT5ET-TF88e1bTIVu6tz7jS_8DvOcr1nk8yCg3aW3WXMoE1IBnWqetxvpIAdce5DoEN1NWpI8RdVuZqn_etpBteVODiZCIxaH-acJW1q367rGnsSRi/s2700/CendBckstg118.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2700" data-original-width="1800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXE3hHsUbVxAZHLEb5cB2HZjtZQWj_4gvGjNI3Uj9iw1yJL-n2Hy2Cni7IMu2rG-SGjaxOyRNT5ET-TF88e1bTIVu6tz7jS_8DvOcr1nk8yCg3aW3WXMoE1IBnWqetxvpIAdce5DoEN1NWpI8RdVuZqn_etpBteVODiZCIxaH-acJW1q367rGnsSRi/w426-h640/CendBckstg118.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sarah Pasch as the Stepmother in Jean-Christophe Maillot's<br /><i>Cendrillon</i>. photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">In the meantime, Pasch has used her position as one of the
senior corps members to help guide some of PNB’s newer dancers.
Boal says Pasch’s grace and unobtrusive but steady presence in the studio has
earned her the respect of her peers, and her boss.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">“Every company has undesignated leaders like Sarah, who see
the bigger scope of the rehearsal process.” Boal wrote in an email. “She knows
what needs to be fixed and how to fix it. She will be missed.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2PmbgO2zXt2eRFun7SxKbT_JvO991rXaiQ0MvDmW54nWP5yT4U-ajSI0wiEP49TGnE9y-i52D09Z8XKaZCtzU3_LC-P6g1fLqEXD2KeCnYrFp52buTnx2IeG9SYnortBfD0YpVqcOluELkGoTXFn3QDV97EkBZ-sOo9MzfBB5vWfDcB335ETxYxmD/s5354/RedAngels18_LT_02.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3569" data-original-width="5354" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2PmbgO2zXt2eRFun7SxKbT_JvO991rXaiQ0MvDmW54nWP5yT4U-ajSI0wiEP49TGnE9y-i52D09Z8XKaZCtzU3_LC-P6g1fLqEXD2KeCnYrFp52buTnx2IeG9SYnortBfD0YpVqcOluELkGoTXFn3QDV97EkBZ-sOo9MzfBB5vWfDcB335ETxYxmD/w640-h426/RedAngels18_LT_02.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sarah Pasch with Dammiel Cruz-Garrido in Ulysses Dove's <i>Red Angels</i>, 2018.<br />photo @ Lindsay Thomas</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Pasch leaves PNB on a high note. She’s scheduled to dance in
Ulysses Dove’s <i>Red Angels </i>with fellow corps member Dammiel Cruz-Garrido
in the <a href="https://www.pnb.org/season/season-encore/">company’s Encore
performance June 12<sup>th</sup></a>. She first saw this ballet when she joined
PNB School’s Professional Division in 2009.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">“I was out in the audience,” says Pasch, “and I was like, ‘I
have to do that role!’” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Boal cast her in it several years later, which she says was
a big deal for her; as a corps dancer Pasch hasn’t had regular
opportunities to perform solo roles. She considers <i>Red Angels</i> to be
one of her career highlights, along with a stint in George Balanchine’s <i>Rubies</i>.
<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIYdYP29h4csAs1GvWCvXoup3pC9ze5nxgh0lAmN3J288U36WluU9MgRYSMdhc8w_5cNxb8V-zTIzj_HWlgQ1G_t4mzOs5Q54bPQ61V8HCKehu_lGMPBos7bjWKmXOwo8BE3Yas6ldWBdflQcvZOsYZEMWs9UB4I5M45yZ3okNcg1NaOoxT-p0EMEA/s2100/AirTwyla%200181.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1400" data-original-width="2100" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIYdYP29h4csAs1GvWCvXoup3pC9ze5nxgh0lAmN3J288U36WluU9MgRYSMdhc8w_5cNxb8V-zTIzj_HWlgQ1G_t4mzOs5Q54bPQ61V8HCKehu_lGMPBos7bjWKmXOwo8BE3Yas6ldWBdflQcvZOsYZEMWs9UB4I5M45yZ3okNcg1NaOoxT-p0EMEA/w640-h426/AirTwyla%200181.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sarah Pasch, center with, from left, Chelsea Adomaitis, James Yoichi Moore and Elle Macy in 2013 production of Tharp's <i>Waiting at the Station.</i> photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Another highlight was originating the role of Golden Girl,
one of a trio featured in Twyla Tharp’s <i>Waiting at the Station</i>, created
for PNB in 2013. The ballet is one of three Tharp works that make up PNB’s
final program of this artistic season. Although COVID forced the company to
cancel opening weekend performances, Pasch is scheduled to reprise the role
this weekend (June 9-12), if the virus allows the shows to go on.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">“It feels like full circle,” she says. “To have a role
created on you is so cool. It feels very precious to me, and I’m so excited I
get to dance it again.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">This summer, Pasch will tour with PNB to New York
and Los Angeles before stepping away from professional ballet for good. She acknowledges her life will
be different come September, when her husband heads back to the ballet studio while
she takes her place in front of a classroom. Pasch is eager to begin this new career, but
says ballet will always be with her. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">“I’ll really miss that magic of the curtain coming up, being
onstage in costume. There’s nothing like it,” she acknowledges. “I’m just
grateful for the audience here, the career I’ve had, this home I’ve created at
PNB.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>rowermarciehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521108522583895812noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961987583859476165.post-29896697415605883862022-04-10T13:51:00.006-07:002022-04-19T09:55:31.971-07:00The Return of the Swan<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIviIcI8grIAUvZ-jHcKJ6anmiLHUYym3YiJo6BNjoT7F-Ur1R6RNA8wt44QZpWqZta_eaYZ0Rjxj_6gdKluYb2dLnBCP_OZ41uE6n56zlMdsIPw9zslGlAddRvimm7RZQCsO5JE0vsQKfbTFELC-IjM-HFg57HRARl7jBJnEopFPhs0rq_UtFhids/s5184/SwanLake-Catwalk-Lesley-Bold_LT_91.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="5184" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIviIcI8grIAUvZ-jHcKJ6anmiLHUYym3YiJo6BNjoT7F-Ur1R6RNA8wt44QZpWqZta_eaYZ0Rjxj_6gdKluYb2dLnBCP_OZ41uE6n56zlMdsIPw9zslGlAddRvimm7RZQCsO5JE0vsQKfbTFELC-IjM-HFg57HRARl7jBJnEopFPhs0rq_UtFhids/w640-h426/SwanLake-Catwalk-Lesley-Bold_LT_91.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lesley Rausch as Odette in Pacific Northwest Ballet's past production of <i> Swan Lake</i><br />photo @ Lindsay Thomas</td></tr></tbody></table><br /> <p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Early Spring sunshine streams into a small Pacific Northwest
Ballet studio, casting shadows on two dancers, one in dark sweat pants and a
tee shirt, the other dressed in a purple leotard, stiff white tutu and pointe shoes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">They’re rehearsing a pas de deux from the classic ballet <i>Swan
Lake,</i> under the watchful eye of PNB Artistic Director Peter Boal. Veteran
company member Lesley Rausch portrays the famous White Swan, Odette. Her partner,
James Kirby Rogers, is Prince Siegfried, smitten by Odette’s beauty when he
encounters her with a flock of fellow swans on a moonlit lake. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Boal starts a recording of Tchaikovsky’s familiar score, and
Rausch and Rogers begin a delicate courtship dance. They circle one another,
warily at first, then spiraling closer. At last, Rogers steps behind Rausch and
wraps her in his arms, gently folding her limbs across her chest. When they
pull apart, Rausch’s arms extend behind her, like a swan’s wings, her fingers
fluttering like feathers in a breeze. Rogers lifts the ballerina up over his
head, once, twice and a third time, as if she weighs no more than, well, a
bird. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">When the ethereal seven-minute duet ends, both dancers bend over, gulping
in air through the black face masks they wear to ward off Covid.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">For so many ballerinas, dancing <i>Swan Lake’s </i>Odette
and her evil doppelganger, the Black Swan, Odile, is a career pinnacle. It’s
not simply that the roles are technically demanding, a tour-de-force when
performed well; it’s also the fact that the ballerina must learn the
choreography and then distinguish each role dramatically for the audience (if
not for the love-sick Prince who, somehow, mistakes Odile’s flamboyance for the
gentle grace of his love, Odette).</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhthQDdyb4h0B4mgG0Ld0bpouETb0GP1IXKfcVdzyIVbIzbxYveF9WLFD_YHNBEF65gCNY4cC1Xy6DY4CukVmZuZuOMY-y18z-qq1AGqyhSX3oD7eMZHHrXC7e_zXWAzUlEMzDbgGDAw_hs48ZqcOfhewLB-MeP-LGzOnJN5N7IXFmcdHpU1PAzgtHg/s3300/SwanLake2022%20298.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3300" data-original-width="2200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhthQDdyb4h0B4mgG0Ld0bpouETb0GP1IXKfcVdzyIVbIzbxYveF9WLFD_YHNBEF65gCNY4cC1Xy6DY4CukVmZuZuOMY-y18z-qq1AGqyhSX3oD7eMZHHrXC7e_zXWAzUlEMzDbgGDAw_hs48ZqcOfhewLB-MeP-LGzOnJN5N7IXFmcdHpU1PAzgtHg/w426-h640/SwanLake2022%20298.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">James Kirby Rogers and Lesley Rausch in Pacific Northwest Ballet's production of <i>Swan Lake</i></td></tr></tbody></table> photo @ Angela Sterling<p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Whether it’s portraying the agony of a woman
captured in swan form, or whipping off Odile’s jaw-droppingly difficult 32 fouetté
turns, this dual role allows a dancer to demonstrate everything she’s mastered
over her career.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJsU7ua0hQjeAeGbSymNsDiyBSK0Hq5O4Fqqwbvjhd_8Wk8wj4EiqwsKIs1NZozMcgPGCkVUl1UhhU6xGB97M6B3ztOhCNaxUSBkOM787eQyUGD8DOrde_y7srKjUjeOXjFhW-6wn0mxTe-Jh7C7yWvZrxYyoMsmDccW9OV4MX_D-1fe8uzvG8EYhN/s2100/SwanDRESS%201084.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1400" data-original-width="2100" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJsU7ua0hQjeAeGbSymNsDiyBSK0Hq5O4Fqqwbvjhd_8Wk8wj4EiqwsKIs1NZozMcgPGCkVUl1UhhU6xGB97M6B3ztOhCNaxUSBkOM787eQyUGD8DOrde_y7srKjUjeOXjFhW-6wn0mxTe-Jh7C7yWvZrxYyoMsmDccW9OV4MX_D-1fe8uzvG8EYhN/w640-h426/SwanDRESS%201084.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lesley Rausch and her husband, former PNB dancer Batkhurel Bold, in <i>Swan Lake</i><br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Four years ago, when PNB last presented this ballet, Rausch had
the opportunity to perform Odette/Odile on opening night. “That was the
fulfillment of every childhood dream I ever had,” she says. “I didn’t even
realize it until it was happening.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Two years ago, when COVID forced the world to shut down,
Rausch wasn’t sure she’d make it back onstage, let alone get a chance to star
in this ballet again. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Of course, ballet dancers weren’t the only ones affected by
the March, 2020 pandemic closures. All but people deemed to be essential
workers were sent home to puzzle out how to set up offices at their dining room
tables; to squabble over laptops and internet bandwidth with their family
members. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">While many of us were able to conduct business as (almost) usual,
ballet dancers floundered, wondering how to keep their bodies and minds ready
to perform if and when they were called back to work. PNB offered daily Zoom classes
to its company members, but Rausch and many of her peers sometimes found it
hard to muster the enthusiasm for remote dancing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">“I have a lot of good self-motivation normally,” Rausch
says. “But there were times I just couldn’t make myself do ballet.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Rausch felt detached from the online classes, and she didn’t
have the studio space at home to move the way she wanted and needed to. Beyond space
issues, like so many of us, Rausch found the daily pandemic news to be
emotionally grueling. Although she felt fortunate to be financially stable, and
that PNB continued to provide health insurance to all its workers, seeing the
toll Covid was taking on so many people around the world was sobering.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">PNB’s pandemic closure dragged on through the summer of 2020,
the longest non-dancing period Rausch had experienced since she started ballet
lessons as a little girl in Columbus, Ohio. She practiced Pilates daily, trying
to keep her muscles toned and healthy. And she relished the time with her
husband, retired PNB dancer Batkhurel Bold, who works in the hospitality
industry now. Together, they explored Seattle on foot, trying to make the most
of their downtime together. But dancing a full-length ballet requires specific
stamina and training. The longer Rausch was away from the studio, the more
concerned she became about how she’d regain what she was losing. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlq38f1xFZsJ63Ehr7GAcYxZGOvyOPlAy0ClkNjMza2FWY5PXpLuWdd5CfAbfnNwanQjy45WU_Qu2H5iQGIxdUH9_glkRP8D2Kon7cEuKuazh5GUXkew3QotLp6qfd00K-6W5SMZIyv6y2rDYw3iPGLVlTJT1ACECzNXhlHnmul1MTqBwYhmWeQmQ6/s3300/SB3.11.Rausch.Bold.0961.AS.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2551" data-original-width="3300" height="494" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlq38f1xFZsJ63Ehr7GAcYxZGOvyOPlAy0ClkNjMza2FWY5PXpLuWdd5CfAbfnNwanQjy45WU_Qu2H5iQGIxdUH9_glkRP8D2Kon7cEuKuazh5GUXkew3QotLp6qfd00K-6W5SMZIyv6y2rDYw3iPGLVlTJT1ACECzNXhlHnmul1MTqBwYhmWeQmQ6/w640-h494/SB3.11.Rausch.Bold.0961.AS.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Batkhurel Bold with his wife Lesley Rausch. Photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">Although the pandemic maintained
its grip on us, by mid-2020, PNB had decided to go ahead with a new artistic
season, albeit digitally. Most (but not all) of the dancers returned to the Phelps
Center studios, where they were segregated into small pods of four to six dancers.
Everyone was—and still is--masked, and tested for Covid on a regular basis, but
they were dancing again, which Rausch didn’t take for granted. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">(By the way, the
challenge of dancing in a mask can’t be overlooked. Imagine how you feel when
you take a brisk uphill walk in your mask; sometimes it feels like you just
can’t take in enough oxygen. Now think about dancers, who spend hours each day in
strenuous activity, constantly masked.) <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbKUp36XATPIJR2W8Y9e5tAgwy2U3VRXHW1_RGtxqOwGclnALy7AhGL6T88fq9BFZK-6vV9sL8SRAhuoYOsx_Uz24x2VbO3NY3_mD53CYqDw4qMRtV8zA3fXn0-6S7WtkYYJTozHpZtZ_6gIuXTl502bcCZ9UvE-OUqbhmUD-c-mhe5fqclYOJy-1Z/s4032/IMG_3609.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbKUp36XATPIJR2W8Y9e5tAgwy2U3VRXHW1_RGtxqOwGclnALy7AhGL6T88fq9BFZK-6vV9sL8SRAhuoYOsx_Uz24x2VbO3NY3_mD53CYqDw4qMRtV8zA3fXn0-6S7WtkYYJTozHpZtZ_6gIuXTl502bcCZ9UvE-OUqbhmUD-c-mhe5fqclYOJy-1Z/w480-h640/IMG_3609.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lesley Rausch relaxing at Seattle Center, September 2021<br />photo @ Marcie Sillman</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Although Rausch was thrilled to be back in the studios, even
masked, it was by no means ballet as usual. Covid protocols dictated that only
dancers who lived together could touch one another in the studio or onstage, or
do the kind of partnering a ballet like <i>Swan Lake</i> requires.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">“We’re very used to touching all the time,” she says. “It’s
a building where people hug frequently, where corrections are hands-on. This
(Covid protocols) was a seismic shift, and it was scary for us all.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGtJesRygUzvIqDmhYRuyyvbEFPPLuSf8mymBcWWqTWsk6SDNFJXlxAp6yrDu6TsqytjsB-D-DnWn72VAJViuRN6AooZOluUFHhADKWyDjVVGdBpxSpwgn5y8eMw21bI_UoIOZZiG9Fv8Zvz9U6T5fAFeQVwvu0tTppTbsXnQp7HhtCqFhEK0lgwdV/s6097/Swan18_LesleyJerome_LT_38.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4065" data-original-width="6097" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGtJesRygUzvIqDmhYRuyyvbEFPPLuSf8mymBcWWqTWsk6SDNFJXlxAp6yrDu6TsqytjsB-D-DnWn72VAJViuRN6AooZOluUFHhADKWyDjVVGdBpxSpwgn5y8eMw21bI_UoIOZZiG9Fv8Zvz9U6T5fAFeQVwvu0tTppTbsXnQp7HhtCqFhEK0lgwdV/w640-h426/Swan18_LesleyJerome_LT_38.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lesley Rausch and former PNB partner Jerome Tisserand rehearsing <i>Swan Lake</i> in 2018.<br />photo @ Lindsay Thomas</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Beyond the Covid protocols, the journey back to back to ballet-readiness
wasn’t easy, particularly for older dancers like Rausch, who turned 40 in late
2021. The art form’s physical demands frequently force dancers to leave the
profession by their late 30’s. A few, like Rausch’s former colleague Noelani Pantastico,
hang on into their 40’s. (Pantastico retired this February at age 41). </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Rausch
found the work to retrain her body to be grueling; after a day in the studio,
she often went home and just cried from the pain of, for example, building back
the strength in her feet.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">“You know, when I was younger, I could walk in off the
street, slap on my pointe shoes and go right into rehearsal,” she muses. “I
can’t even imagine that now!” Rausch is far more aware of her body’s strengths
and weaknesses than she was 20 years ago, and much more cautious about
potential injuries, so she’s been slow and methodical about her re-training. <a name="_Hlk99974316"><o:p></o:p></a></span></p>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk99974316;"></span>
</span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Eight months into this artistic season, Rausch is nursing a
sore back, which kept her out of two productions earlier this year. Bolstered
by a brace, she’s thrown herself into <i>Swan Lake</i> rehearsals, determined
to be back onstage in the coveted dual role.<i> </i>“Every day is different,”
she muses. “Some are better than others.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Every morning, before she even arrives at PNB’s Seattle
Center studios, she spends a couple of hours preparing her body for the physical
toll the full day of rehearsals will exact on her. “I take a very, very, very,
hot shower,” she laughs. Rausch then runs through a series of Pilates exercises,
focusing especially on her back. But she also relies heavily on the expertise
of PNB physical therapist Boyd Bender and Laura Bannister, a PT at Avant Studio.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">“I feel like I’m stronger after a year and a half away. I’ve
tended to old injuries,” Rausch says. “I definitely feel more confidence that
I’m able to do my job.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Beyond the physical re-adjustments, Rausch found PNB to be a
very different dance company when she returned in August, 2020. More than a
half dozen of her contemporaries decided to retire or leave Seattle during the
pandemic, including her longtime stage partner Jerome Tisserand, who danced her
Prince Siegfried in PNB’s 2018 <i>Swan</i> <i>Lake</i> production. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Tisserand's departure was wrenching for Rausch, who had built up a level of comfort and
trust with him after years dancing together. Now she’s working to build that
stage relationship with James Kirby Rogers. In rehearsal they work on small
nuances: how Rogers can help her into a turn, or where he should hold her waist
when he prepares to lift Rausch into the air.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH2xX8wZpTCs0gC3DArPBXXxpA_7DdyX7FQIIcGAOQrqcAiFYWp4pH0a2mH_90T9VTfhC8EpE1yChRdw9gIse-hDHYiUcMct6HRwejAq04BadAB8GURyWiBlRPhG4rfpRvS9ZDifUmD2BAWgUFZFbnZNtdmPrPJmIw1ha8azEdeiP9RwQvlNLnCDcj/s3300/SwanLake2022%20190.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3300" data-original-width="2593" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH2xX8wZpTCs0gC3DArPBXXxpA_7DdyX7FQIIcGAOQrqcAiFYWp4pH0a2mH_90T9VTfhC8EpE1yChRdw9gIse-hDHYiUcMct6HRwejAq04BadAB8GURyWiBlRPhG4rfpRvS9ZDifUmD2BAWgUFZFbnZNtdmPrPJmIw1ha8azEdeiP9RwQvlNLnCDcj/w502-h640/SwanLake2022%20190.jpg" width="502" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">James Kirby Rogers with Lesley Rausch, Otto Neubert in background<br />photo @ Angela Sterling for Pacific Northwest Ballet</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Like Rogers, most of PNB’s new company members are much
younger than Rausch. Although she’s one of only a handful of veterans at
the company, Rausch isn’t ready to step away from a life that has defined her
since childhood. She decided to be a ballerina when she was 10 years old, and
her commitment hasn’t wavered. “I had a five-minute solo,” she recalls, “and I
had this moment of just feeling like, ‘This is it!’ I just felt alive.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="345" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/hO5Wh01gxTM" width="436" youtube-src-id="hO5Wh01gxTM"></iframe></div><br /><div><br />
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">She feels the same way today.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Aside from family, ballet has been the one constant in her
life for more than 35 years. “It has been with me through the good and the bad,
the ugly and beautiful. I think it starts to become even more cherished when
you contemplate that it won’t be part of your life much longer.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">A year ago, Rausch wasn’t sure what the future held. She’s a
certified Pilates instructor, and she’s been building her own business, but Rausch wasn’t quite ready to jump into this new pursuit full-time. When she
learned that Peter Boal had included <i>Swan Lake</i> in the company’s current season
line-up, it was the signal she needed. Rausch signed her contract, and prayed
that her body would be up to the task ahead. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Her gamble seems to have paid off.
Not only does she get another chance to star in <i>Swan Lake</i>; she and
Rogers will dance on opening night. It’s the opportunity Rausch could
only dream about two years ago.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">“Now I just feel gratitude for my body, that it can still do
the things I ask it to do.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">And, while no one can predict the future with any certainty,
Rausch is betting both on her body and her artistry to carry her into another
year with PNB. Last month she decided to return for her 21<sup>st</sup> season
in the company, to help celebrate PNB’s 50<sup>th</sup> anniversary.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Before then, audiences can see Lesley Rausch perform
Odette/Odile on opening night of <a href="https://www.pnb.org/season/swan-lake/">PNB’s
production of <i>Swan Lake</i></a>, choreographed by Kent Stowell. The ballet
runs April 15-24 at McCaw Hall.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p></div>rowermarciehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521108522583895812noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961987583859476165.post-16654455365803942622022-03-30T14:59:00.000-07:002022-03-30T14:59:31.477-07:00Amanda Morgan Never Stops<p> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkPoWaFHvxovSNYvEe8-ww9GHPor6yPhGsqznMIf1AzemBp5YZD9K9kwP1dRAW_GT0HSRxzo1Uwom42jRgpxbqz18kVAevKslmIWqbTlYPrfjQ6kSmyeV0Rpq013MRMU790fHV7HCOqLZmW2R9CTw4CF_btw6qrR3hBN2OWvPnaAiKNmSb1PLFS6bq/s320/image2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="240" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkPoWaFHvxovSNYvEe8-ww9GHPor6yPhGsqznMIf1AzemBp5YZD9K9kwP1dRAW_GT0HSRxzo1Uwom42jRgpxbqz18kVAevKslmIWqbTlYPrfjQ6kSmyeV0Rpq013MRMU790fHV7HCOqLZmW2R9CTw4CF_btw6qrR3hBN2OWvPnaAiKNmSb1PLFS6bq/w480-h640/image2.jpeg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dancer and choreographer Amanda Morgan, photo @ Jessamy Lennon</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Last week Amanda Morgan was tapping her heart out in the
Pacific Northwest Ballet production of Justin Peck’s sneaker ballet, <i>The
Times Are Racing. </i>This weekend, Morgan is at the helm of a new show she’s
producing under the auspices of her own venture, The Seattle Project.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">The show, <i>truth be told</i>, includes three dance films and three live dances,
including a duet Morgan created for Marco Farroni and her PNB colleague,
apprentice Zsilas Michael Hughes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Morgan launched The Seattle Project at the end of 2019, just
before the pandemic hit. She wanted to provide a creative outlet for her own
work, and for that of other BIPOC and Queer artists. Although the Project isn’t
limited to dance, Morgan cheerfully admits that, as a dance artist, she
gravitates to the art form.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Morgan describes her latest choreographic effort as “more
experimental” than work she’s made in the past. This new duet is literally split in
two: Hughes and Farroni spend 2/3 of the performance separated from one another, on the
different stages--one a platform built directly over the main floor, accessible
only via a steep wooden ladder.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Farroni, an experienced performer (including
work with Spectrum Dance Theatre and choreographer Dani Tirrell) starts on the
upper level, while Hughes first appears directly below Farroni, seated on a
stool. Eventually, the two dancers join forces, and when they do, their
distinctly different movements converge as well.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">This weekend’s show also features
work by Akoiya Harris, Devin Munoz, Christopher D’Ariano, Leah Terada and the Seattle
premier of a film by Nia-Amina Minor, called <i>Without Ever Leaving the Ground
(She Flew)</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Because Morgan holds down a demanding day job with PNB, she
doesn’t schedule Seattle Project performances very far in advance. Look for her this
summer on the Seattle waterfront, and presenting work with the Art in the Parks
program. Morgan says audiences should expect the unexpected when it comes to
her choreography. She’s always eager to try something new, even if it falls short
of her imagination. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">“At least I made stuff,” Morgan says. “At least I used my
voice.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">The Seattle Project’s <i>truth be told </i>debuts at the
Northwest Film Forum on Saturday, April 2 and repeats Sunday, April 3.</span><o:p></o:p></p>rowermarciehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521108522583895812noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961987583859476165.post-39478954260785863972021-12-18T08:17:00.008-08:002021-12-21T13:00:05.882-08:00Finding Light in Dark Times<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjuwOPe90Ep9iFp4q_1Xc4P5Z2NVmIoPr3TlanectjLqBmm7jwD3s1Hg0z5Tlc9gDjuf5Yp9eR1B8Bvek0Iw0fe0ksurWUW4dS_oHSkBR8dxcN0JzODxubIzcKe2mCrks0L3eLBaY9sdDwuFKIiScLWfwRqmGBwlQd72-IerTjm0PmOgA0Rl9mLucZe=s2700" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2700" data-original-width="2121" height="615" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjuwOPe90Ep9iFp4q_1Xc4P5Z2NVmIoPr3TlanectjLqBmm7jwD3s1Hg0z5Tlc9gDjuf5Yp9eR1B8Bvek0Iw0fe0ksurWUW4dS_oHSkBR8dxcN0JzODxubIzcKe2mCrks0L3eLBaY9sdDwuFKIiScLWfwRqmGBwlQd72-IerTjm0PmOgA0Rl9mLucZe=w482-h615" width="482" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pacific Northwest Ballet Principal Dancer Lesley Rausch as Dewdrop<br />in George Balanchine's <i>The Nutcracker</i>. photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">When I heard the news about Covid's Omicron variant a couple of
weeks back, my body just clenched up. “Oh, what fresh hell is this?” I asked
myself.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">These are dark times, literally and metaphorically, as we
hover near Winter Solstice with so few hours of daylight, and news reports of rising infection rates and
ongoing political strife crash ashore endlessly.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I always struggle in December, so it’s become my practice
to seek out moments of joy wherever they present themselves; simple pleasures--holiday lights emerging like mushrooms on houses and shops across the
city, glowing like beacons in the long stretches of darkness. Or baking for
friends, with KING-FM on in the background.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Or annual holiday performances, a pleasure I took for
granted until last year, pre-vaccine, when the pandemic forced the cancellation or
the migration of live shows to online streams. We’ve learned to love, or at
least live with, digital performances, but for me there’s nothing like sitting
in an audience with other people. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I’ve written before about the giddiness I experienced upon
entering McCaw Hall to see Pacific Northwest Ballet’s <i>Nutcracker.</i> I had
a similar sense of glee this month at a performance of <i>A Christmas Carol,</i>
at ACT Theatre. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhsVwh4xOJxtvbtKKMfRvnqsCOzaKI1dJ-e7JvKjHzaHLY6J93MNegTGWJu4CdmsjKumxnyR3hRyBeFEpS3qskxGnpB_b7GVd0tWWVyG4M70sHBHPMxXwXgHFN283CjkdeSUpvDPX--BhNsh1t-0R76Ni2TQChsriIVvMHYIEwTPZvefU1iVW3IiiNi=s6012" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4810" data-original-width="6012" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhsVwh4xOJxtvbtKKMfRvnqsCOzaKI1dJ-e7JvKjHzaHLY6J93MNegTGWJu4CdmsjKumxnyR3hRyBeFEpS3qskxGnpB_b7GVd0tWWVyG4M70sHBHPMxXwXgHFN283CjkdeSUpvDPX--BhNsh1t-0R76Ni2TQChsriIVvMHYIEwTPZvefU1iVW3IiiNi=w640-h512" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">R. Hamilton Wright, Amy Thone and Nathaniel Tenebaum <br />in ACT Theatre's production of <i>A Christmas Carol</i>. Photo courtesy ACT Theatre</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Actor Nathaniel Tenenbaum’s pre-show speech started off with
a rousing “we’re back!” followed by a shout backstage to his fellow cast
members “they’re here in the seats!” I got goose bumps, and a bit misty eyed,
and filled with the familiar anticipation of the play about to unfold. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgdgoq9oms01UZszLo-V1Phuhrt2RuwfBthbiYXmR55fZRV2A_4cAwosKuXN-tYJnC9AvicvqKE30rYepGw2byPJ3dQCpx_O6Whh8xNIXA5o5ovL43dcwjRx3Iae1fvkicFr2_RHAq5AGYoTM1uq4Kp_fI0pSoG6zpriFu33JBuPMzWh8w3vIOWSzos=s1773" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1182" data-original-width="1773" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgdgoq9oms01UZszLo-V1Phuhrt2RuwfBthbiYXmR55fZRV2A_4cAwosKuXN-tYJnC9AvicvqKE30rYepGw2byPJ3dQCpx_O6Whh8xNIXA5o5ovL43dcwjRx3Iae1fvkicFr2_RHAq5AGYoTM1uq4Kp_fI0pSoG6zpriFu33JBuPMzWh8w3vIOWSzos=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Julie Briskman, the Ghost of Christmas Present in ACT Theatre's <i>A Christmas Carol</i><br />photo @ Hannah Delon, courtesy ACT</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">As I watched the brilliant Julie Briskman, the Ghost of
Christmas Present, rise up from below the stage on a chaise, draped in green
velvet with a matching garland of greenery crowning her head, I broke into a
huge smile. Of course, it was under my mask, so nobody saw it, but I know the
rest of the audience was probably smiling too.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjOAxUdW3SZqkP4A6KCa2xJOkpxfwq_jRDXp6tVG1o5Vp42fKRt3l1near1V_pWGxc8SUdKestYhfx6pDhqkB-P7X_qVfOdqu3bcY39IyM0s0de7PaeHBPIvl-1r5-Bv-FTpTb7QNdbvSw-9P0pN8YZCOjHBnQQzWPWigMUzPkIuTAjBiPDqXfVJxlv=s3300" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2200" data-original-width="3300" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjOAxUdW3SZqkP4A6KCa2xJOkpxfwq_jRDXp6tVG1o5Vp42fKRt3l1near1V_pWGxc8SUdKestYhfx6pDhqkB-P7X_qVfOdqu3bcY39IyM0s0de7PaeHBPIvl-1r5-Bv-FTpTb7QNdbvSw-9P0pN8YZCOjHBnQQzWPWigMUzPkIuTAjBiPDqXfVJxlv=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PNB company members with Noelani Pantastico as Dewdrop, 2016<br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">What I didn’t realize was that, this year, performers are
relishing these moments too. Arts organizations here and around the world have
struggled to keep their heads above water through the pandemic, so reopening
with a holiday classic has new meaning.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgZUWXEuguqw8WMZgjl-sraRM-8k7IwPiRj33vWN-hWnV9m_lT3o12JLmqJMaXlw2pZfRL897jJxBHJMDPt-tKCRmZ6wb3Rs6gLcXx80BMpbV0XaCFEU2dk6nlwFzOsK0M5BKXI8g2NAcorDUeM39PosMneJkvQuULDLl59R0-Z6He5itQUOYKrNECR=s3300" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3300" data-original-width="2200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgZUWXEuguqw8WMZgjl-sraRM-8k7IwPiRj33vWN-hWnV9m_lT3o12JLmqJMaXlw2pZfRL897jJxBHJMDPt-tKCRmZ6wb3Rs6gLcXx80BMpbV0XaCFEU2dk6nlwFzOsK0M5BKXI8g2NAcorDUeM39PosMneJkvQuULDLl59R0-Z6He5itQUOYKrNECR=w426-h640" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lesley Rausch with her Cavalier, Dylan Wald in George Balanchine's <i>The Nutcracker</i><br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">“Sometimes, we get to <i>Nutcracker</i> and it’s like, ‘oh,
here we go again.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Principal dancer Lesley Rausch is in the middle of her 20<sup>th</sup>
season dancing with PNB, so she’s performed her share of <i>Nutcrackers</i>. For
Rausch and her fellow company members, the chance to be on stage this December
is a return to business as usual, albeit with a twist.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">“We’re testing every other day during <i>Nutcracker</i>,
with rapid (antigen) tests,” she explains. “There’s a little bit of fear every
time that what if this is the time that the virus slips through? It affects the
whole company.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">That fear is particularly acute now that Omicron is raging
through New York, forcing Broadway theaters to close down shows. As I write
these words, Puget Sound arts organizations remain open, but on high alert.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">At PNB, everyone backstage is still masked, including the
dancers. The masks don’t come off until they twirl out from the wings. Which is
only fair, because all of us audience members are also masked. (BTW, that mask should cover your mouth and nose! It doesn’t do anything hanging over your
chin except make me want to yell at you!)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi7i3eeArqF8enBDvsIFm-Kf3GNwIk0QzPxEpAurFnxpJjCZzrPLKYPC9ulBLWlJFzh-XYOOj4QGBt8OHhM55bloae2_DJ34-nzrbBvLggZ4UEl44bDUztk3hgdAMoAzU845tm1xywZW2tFFuB1mLKR7gwKrSsq-TDKwq58otvFWTscXXxCmJj23oeW=s3300" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3300" data-original-width="2200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi7i3eeArqF8enBDvsIFm-Kf3GNwIk0QzPxEpAurFnxpJjCZzrPLKYPC9ulBLWlJFzh-XYOOj4QGBt8OHhM55bloae2_DJ34-nzrbBvLggZ4UEl44bDUztk3hgdAMoAzU845tm1xywZW2tFFuB1mLKR7gwKrSsq-TDKwq58otvFWTscXXxCmJj23oeW=w426-h640" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lesley Rausch and Dylan Wald in PNB's 2021 production of <i>The Nutcracker</i><br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">This year, watching Rausch and Dylan Wald take the stage as the
Sugar Plum Fairy and her Cavalier touched me in a way that the familiar pas de
deux normally doesn’t. I like the choreography, and love the music, but I’ve
seen <i>Nutcracker</i> so many times that I’m often not completely present. This
year, though, Rausch and Wald created a magic that I’ve been missing; she truly
was a gossamer fairy in Wald’s arms, her descent to the stage from each leap an
evanescent, gravity-defiant shimmer. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Rausch says dancing in this year’s <i>Nutcracker</i> has
brought her a renewed energy for a show that can sometimes feel like an annual
grind. We may see it only once a year, but for dancers, especially those in the
corps de ballet, the four-week <i>Nutcracker</i> run can be grueling. This
year, though, Rausch treasures every performance.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">“We’ve all just been craving it so much!” she says. “Thursday
night’s show wasn’t even full, but the audience was wild. I got applause for
just walking out on stage. I never had so much fun out there, it was a blast!”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhugMq6sQJIYvzeJQWVzxZ1hCO5cXY494Uyu8Hyhh0UInwudDTkd8fxj2_UexRsEmbR2mFkpsClKQccbGFaHpBcb1t_Pg2KeGkHtKlslpe2VzjssoAnr9T7mf0nNTd6ehIG5o2CdgQWPpwmYgVgloi-DTqm1GDNFXDryACm0_ZCz0rwMonEPfOwO7GQ=s3300" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2200" data-original-width="3300" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhugMq6sQJIYvzeJQWVzxZ1hCO5cXY494Uyu8Hyhh0UInwudDTkd8fxj2_UexRsEmbR2mFkpsClKQccbGFaHpBcb1t_Pg2KeGkHtKlslpe2VzjssoAnr9T7mf0nNTd6ehIG5o2CdgQWPpwmYgVgloi-DTqm1GDNFXDryACm0_ZCz0rwMonEPfOwO7GQ=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PNB company members in George Balanchine's <i>The Nutcracker</i><br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">In the darkness of a second pandemic winter, audiences are
grateful to be able to sit in theaters again, to savor holiday traditions. Sometimes
we need to respond with more than cheers and applause.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">“I got a letter in the mail, from a little girl,” says
Rausch. “She told me how much she loved watching me as Sugar Plum and how she
wants to be just like me when she grows up.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">The girl included a gift for the ballerina--a home-made
holiday ornament, fashioned from popsicle sticks and covered with glitter.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Rausch’s big blue eyes fill with tears as she tells me this
story.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">“I mean, cue the water works! We’re so removed from the
audience as performers, you forget the impact you can have on somebody’s life!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">When it comes to moments of joy and grace in the December
darkness, it doesn’t get brighter than that.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Pacific Northwest Ballet’s production of <a href="https://www.pnb.org/nutcracker/">George Balanchine’s <i>The</i> <i>Nutcracker</i></a> is onstage at McCaw Hall through December 28. <a href="https://acttheatre.org/a-christmas-carol-2021/">ACT’s <i>A Christmas Carol</i></a> is onstage through December 26.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>rowermarciehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521108522583895812noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961987583859476165.post-45878095255661499142021-11-29T13:03:00.012-08:002021-11-29T17:33:26.509-08:00Nutcracker 2.0-It's Back and Better Than Ever<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-G9zERYPowmg/YaU6pUWM62I/AAAAAAAACn4/dN1MaaldOaoY35ZgBZjP8zCyHkSlWPtrACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Nut2021C%2B0952.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-G9zERYPowmg/YaU6pUWM62I/AAAAAAAACn4/dN1MaaldOaoY35ZgBZjP8zCyHkSlWPtrACLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h426/Nut2021C%2B0952.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PNB soloist Cecilia Iliesiu, center, and fellow dancers in George Balanchine's <i>The Nutcracker</i>.<br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">This past weekend Pacific Northwest Ballet opened its annual
holiday production of <i>The Nutcracker</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">After almost two years of COVID isolation that forced PNB to cancel last year's run, this opening is a big, big deal.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I’ve seen this version of <i>The Nutcracker</i> at least a dozen times since PNB debuted George
Balanchine’s 1954 classic six years ago, but sitting in McCaw Hall Saturday
night, watching Lesley Rausch and Dylan Wald perform the Sugar Plum
Fairy/Cavalier pas de deux, it was as if I was seeing this ballet for the very
first time.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Being able to gather
with a (masked) audience to share a live performance, to hear the full PNB
orchestra for the first time since February 2020, to watch a stage full of
dancers, was remarkable. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">It was both comfortingly familiar, and yet a completely
new experience.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-X_FgEseOIB0/YaU7ZyE6dnI/AAAAAAAACoA/yTF-VP1cT4EOKbx16dTsgHG92nY5FhsCgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Nut2021C%2B0243.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1494" data-original-width="2048" height="466" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-X_FgEseOIB0/YaU7ZyE6dnI/AAAAAAAACoA/yTF-VP1cT4EOKbx16dTsgHG92nY5FhsCgCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h466/Nut2021C%2B0243.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PNB soloist Ezra Thomson, left, with DianaStarr Robinson<br />photo @ Angela Sterling<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;">First, the masks. <i>Nutcracker </i>features a large cast:
PNB company dancers, plus dozens of students. To protect their health,
and that of the professional artists they perform with, the kids all wear masks, specially
designed to match their costumes. </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">It’s startling at first, but masking is now part of our
new normal as we continue to fend off succesive waves of viral mutations. PNB takes its COVID-19 precautions seriously. In addition to masks, audience members must show proof of vaccination status, or a negative COVID test. Even the
wildly popular second act appearance by Mother Ginger and her Polichinelle flock was transformed by health protocols. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Instead of sheltering all eight children under her
enormous skirts, Mother Ginger enters with only four young dancers hidden from view. The other four dance on
and off from the wings, the ballet equivalent of social distancing.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">These health safeguards are only part of the changed face of this <i>Nutcracker</i> production. PNB has
made others the company hopes will help eliminate some of the art form’s
embedded racial and gender biases.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ENfxhW3wQ_0/YaU8LF-H74I/AAAAAAAACoI/sAwk_DK2y6kf7g6IbPlDSjZD7OjRSTSGACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Nut2021E%2B0688%2BMartzall%2BAS.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1609" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ENfxhW3wQ_0/YaU8LF-H74I/AAAAAAAACoI/sAwk_DK2y6kf7g6IbPlDSjZD7OjRSTSGACLcBGAsYHQ/w502-h640/Nut2021E%2B0688%2BMartzall%2BAS.jpg" width="502" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PNB corps de ballet member Noah Martzall makes a very natty Green Tea Cricket<br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">When Balanchine created his <i>Nutcracker</i> almost 70
years ago, mainly white audiences and critics most likely didn’t question why the
male dancer in the Act II “Tea” section was dressed as an ersatz
“Chinaman,” complete with a pigtail. The original energetic choreography also included movements that many Asian Americans have rightly called out as offensive.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Several years ago PNB changed part of that dated choreography to eliminate the racial stereotyping. This year, the character itself, with its costume, has been changed. Meet the “Green Tea Cricket,” complete
with bobbing antennae. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wK-vlVssXRc/YaU9A5VEEkI/AAAAAAAACoU/U0D67VS-rE8pGDo9fPSs0wrNpHWJrgpYgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Nut2021C%2B0799.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1609" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wK-vlVssXRc/YaU9A5VEEkI/AAAAAAAACoU/U0D67VS-rE8pGDo9fPSs0wrNpHWJrgpYgCLcBGAsYHQ/w502-h640/Nut2021C%2B0799.jpg" width="502" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Corps de ballet member Amanda Morgan <br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Beyond the Cricket, I noticed more racial diversity
among the entire cast. In the "Before Times," the majority of the professional company members were white. </span><span style="font-size: large;">This year, it's more diverse than ever before. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">In Friday evening's performance, two of the five Marzipan shepherdesses were young African American dancers. Someday
that won’t feel so remarkable, but more than a year after George Floyd’s murder by
Minneapolis police sparked an international outcry for racial justice, you
can’t gloss over the importance of onstage representation.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">And that brings me to another, even more tradition-shattering change.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">This year PNB hired two non-binary apprentices, one of
whom has trained to perform on pointe, a ballet realm that’s been reserved
for cis-gender women, outside of comedy drag troupes like Les Ballets Trockadero. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jKoudWWWbMU/YaU9YfinxwI/AAAAAAAACog/-ClF2wvHf8k2D2o6fwuonzpNnEB8AdzIwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Nut2021C%2B0588.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jKoudWWWbMU/YaU9YfinxwI/AAAAAAAACog/-ClF2wvHf8k2D2o6fwuonzpNnEB8AdzIwCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h426/Nut2021C%2B0588.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Waltz of the Flowers ends Act I <br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Watching this apprentice waltz their way across the stage
with their fellow Snowflakes, I knew I was witness to what I can only
call a seismic shift in a very hide-bound artform. My Gen-Z son shrugged his
shoulders when I pointed out what we’d seen; for him, ballet should reflect what’s happening in the wider society.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">And that’s how this particular PNB apprentice put it to me in an online
exchange.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">“It makes me so excited to see what is next not only for PNB
but for ballet, as the world keeps evolving and dancers like me become normal.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I don’t know how many of my fellow audience members were
aware that they were watching history-in-the-making, because this
particular dancer blended so well into the full corps de ballet. And that's as it should be.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Hik8iSJNHRA/YaU-MADNrLI/AAAAAAAACos/EHQwRRjL4mA041ufArbWqMdAe7qOkvOZgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Nut2021C%2B1075.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1594" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Hik8iSJNHRA/YaU-MADNrLI/AAAAAAAACos/EHQwRRjL4mA041ufArbWqMdAe7qOkvOZgCLcBGAsYHQ/w498-h640/Nut2021C%2B1075.jpg" width="498" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sugar Plum Fairy Angelica Generosa, with her Cavalier Price Suddarth<br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Meanwhile there I was, mask on, sitting at a relatively safe
distance from audience members I didn’t know, soaking in Tchaikovsky’s familiar
score, appreciating this old ballet in a new way. Beyond the pageantry itself, I was keenly aware of the many stagehands, costumers
and other staff working behind the scenes to restore a bit of normal to a world
that COVID-19 turned upside down last year. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">As I said, this year's <i>Nutcracker</i> was comforting, familiar, and at the same
time, transformed by the calls for justice and change that have rocked our world. I
wept with joy, relief, and on this Thanksgiving weekend, gratitude, for a chance
to savor it all again.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Pacific Northwest Ballet’s <a href="https://www.pnb.org/nutcracker/">2021 production of George Balanchine’s <i>The
Nutcracker</i></a><i> </i>is onstage at McCaw Hall through December 28<sup>th</sup>.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p>rowermarciehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521108522583895812noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961987583859476165.post-55823614463415306442021-11-11T06:24:00.000-08:002021-11-11T06:24:12.158-08:00New Films From Seattle Dance Collective<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zs_VtLXTDes/YY0leA2fxiI/AAAAAAAACm8/masRhcTYaks8PnMGwYcuD6N2VNKxSStnACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Noelani%2BPantastico%2B%2528foreground%2529%2Band%2BJacqueline%2BBurnett%2Bin%2BWhere%2BYou%2BStay%2B%25C2%25A9Bruno%2BRoque.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="360" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zs_VtLXTDes/YY0leA2fxiI/AAAAAAAACm8/masRhcTYaks8PnMGwYcuD6N2VNKxSStnACLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h360/Noelani%2BPantastico%2B%2528foreground%2529%2Band%2BJacqueline%2BBurnett%2Bin%2BWhere%2BYou%2BStay%2B%25C2%25A9Bruno%2BRoque.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Noelani Pantastico, foreground, with Jacqueline Burnett in Robin Mineko Williams' <i>Where You Stay</i></td></tr></tbody></table> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>photo @ Bruno Roque<br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Performing arts venues are slowly starting to reopen to live
audiences, but many organizations continue to offer either hybrid, or all-digital,
seasons.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">And that’s the case for one of Seattle’s newer small arts
groups, Seattle Dance Collective. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">SDC is the brainchild of Pacific Northwest Ballet Principal
Dancers Noelani Pantastico and James Yoichi Moore. Instead of a dance company
with a fixed group of participating artists, Pantastico and Moore wanted to
create a structure that would allow them to collaborate with a variety of
dancers and choreographers as the spirit moved them. Their goal was to
commission and present new contemporary work each summer, when PNB dancers aren’t
working. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">The first season, 2019, audiences at the Vashon Island
Performing Arts Center were treated to work by Marco Goecke, Bruno Roque, Penny
Saunders and more. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">When the pandemic hit last spring, SDC, like every arts organization,
had to rethink its plans. Last summer, Moore and Pantastico commissioned five
dance films, tapping PNB colleagues like Miles Pertl and Amanda Morgan, as well
as artists outside the immediate ballet world they inhabit. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">This year, with the fate of live performance still iffy, SDC
again decided to present a digital stream for its fans. The program, HERE &
NOW is available now; it features three new works, all created during a summer artistic residency
on Vashon Island.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cPZnEBdWW9w/YY0mIdFKFmI/AAAAAAAACnE/dx2iVkcsEX8vqcCyZiVrbD8YYjm058rugCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Alice%2BKlock%2Band%2BFlorian%2BLochner%2Bin%2BTo%2BDust_arabesque%25C2%25A9Bruno%2BRoque.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="360" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cPZnEBdWW9w/YY0mIdFKFmI/AAAAAAAACnE/dx2iVkcsEX8vqcCyZiVrbD8YYjm058rugCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h360/Alice%2BKlock%2Band%2BFlorian%2BLochner%2Bin%2BTo%2BDust_arabesque%25C2%25A9Bruno%2BRoque.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alice Klock and Florian Lochner in <i>To Dust</i>, by Juliano Nunes. photo @ Bruno Roque</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>To Dust</i>, choreographed by Juliano Nunes and filmed and
directed by Bruno Roque, is a moody duet performed by FLOCK, Alice Klock and
Florian Lochner. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">The duo also choreographed a work for SDC, <i>5 Favorite Things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i>This dance features six performers,
Jaqueline Burnett, Jane Cracovaner, Andrew McShea, Noelani Pantastico, David
Schultz, and James Yoichi Moore. Roque’s camera is onstage with the dancers,
weaving around them like a seventh performer. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WWuF_goHwj8/YY0mmohtClI/AAAAAAAACnM/pV-uOqLNXhcFUVUMF91enblVF8__tvKsQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/5%2BFavorite%2BThings_Ensemble%25C2%25A9Bruno%2BRoque.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="360" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WWuF_goHwj8/YY0mmohtClI/AAAAAAAACnM/pV-uOqLNXhcFUVUMF91enblVF8__tvKsQCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h360/5%2BFavorite%2BThings_Ensemble%25C2%25A9Bruno%2BRoque.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">SDC dancers in FLOCKS' <i>5 Favorite Things.</i> photo @ Bruno Roque</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">In both <i>5 Favorite Things</i> and <i>To Dust, </i>audiences
experience something we’ve grown accustomed to during the pandemic: a very
intimate, very closeup view of a dance. Our eyes are directed to certain
perspectives chosen by the choreographers and directors, as opposed to the way
we watch dance live, where the audience watches the same dance, but as individuals,
we may focus on different aspects of the same artwork. I’m not sure if that’s
good or bad; it just is the way dance adapted to the pandemic. I wonder if we’ll
have a hard time readapting to live performances?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">The third work on the HERE & NOW bill is by Robin Mineko
Williams. Unlike the other two offerings, <i>Where You Stay </i>was filmed in
and around a small house on a historic Vashon Island farm. Burnett, Cracovaner,
McShea, Pantastico, Schultz and Moore appear alone, in duets, and trailing a
mysterious young boy, the choreographer’s son, through the surrounding woods. There
isn’t a linear story; for me, it evoked the sensation of being tied to our
houses for most of the past 20 months, the ties we had with people in our
immediate pods, moments of joy and moments of darkness.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Well, you can see for yourselves. Find out more about the
project and buy tickets <a href="https://www.seattledancecollective.org/hereandnow">here</a>.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">The films are available through November 21.</span><o:p></o:p></p>rowermarciehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521108522583895812noreply@blogger.com75tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961987583859476165.post-60474207113429337822021-11-08T14:04:00.009-08:002021-11-08T14:23:26.713-08:00Ballet and Beyond<p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-size: x-large; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pCDyTGdBHow/YYmbLVjinuI/AAAAAAAACmY/I2Z2c-WGW4YakPelj_2QLb57X8Q3clMQACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/PNBRep2B%2B0226.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1092" data-original-width="2048" height="342" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pCDyTGdBHow/YYmbLVjinuI/AAAAAAAACmY/I2Z2c-WGW4YakPelj_2QLb57X8Q3clMQACLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h342/PNBRep2B%2B0226.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PNB company members in Alonzo King's <i>The Personal Element, </i>photo @ Angela Sterling<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br /><b><span style="font-size: large;">Maybe it’s just me, but even after almost two years of social
distancing, and the gradual reopening of live performance venues, it feels like we’re all just starting to re-adjust to life among our
fellow humans.</span></b><span style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">That’s one reason why Pacific Northwest Ballet’s second
program of this artistic season really resonated with me.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Beyond Ballet </i>is
a medley of work by three choreographers, each with a distinctive movement
vocabulary and sensibility. Despite the stylistic differences, each work centers on interpersonal relationships, something we’ve struggled to
maintain through Zoom happy hours and Facetime conversations. As I watched the performances,
I appreciated the aesthetics of each work, and the dancers' commitment to them, but found myself most drawn to the myriad ways they depicted love, grief, joy and the ways we are connected to one another.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Before I talk more about the dances themselves, I just have
to say that, to me, <i>Beyond Ballet</i> is a misnomer. Each work on
this program is a ballet, right down to the pointe shoes. What they don’t do is
mimic the 19<sup>th</sup> century classics. Instead, they’re emblematic of ballet's metamorphoses. If <i>Beyond Ballet</i> represents the art form's future, hey, I’m all in!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">The program opened with Ulysses Dove’s 1993 <i>Dancing on the Front
Porch of Heaven, </i>which has been in PNB’s repertoire for 15 years. This
elegy to the people who lost their lives during the HIV/AIDS epidemic is as
resonant now as when it was created.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z33AV5TSZ-Y/YYmcbeHh7rI/AAAAAAAACmg/LWgOnGe2cPsNDXAoHzLS4bBS4-tjKMzkACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/PNBRep2A%2B0131.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z33AV5TSZ-Y/YYmcbeHh7rI/AAAAAAAACmg/LWgOnGe2cPsNDXAoHzLS4bBS4-tjKMzkACLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h426/PNBRep2A%2B0131.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Soloist James Kirby Roger, left, with Corps de Ballet member Christopher D'Ariano in <br />Ulysses Dove's<i> Dancing on the Front Porch of Heaven</i>. photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Dancing </i>features six performers, three women and
three men clad in white unitards and shoes. On opening night, the entire cast was
stellar: Cecilia Iliesiu, Amanda Morgan, Lesley Rausch, Christopher D’Ariano,
James Kirby Rogers and Dylan Wald. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Veteran Rausch demonstrated
both her command of technique and her artistic mastery, imbuing the
movement with fierce, but tender, emotion. But Iliesiu, Morgan and D’Ariano, as
well as PNB newcomer Rogers, also danced with an almost heartbreaking clarity. Watching
Morgan extend her long, long leg into the air was nothing short of hypnotic. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">This ballet is a tribute to lives lost too soon, but it’s
also very much about the grief of those left to mourn them; it was an apt programming
choice during this current pandemic.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Jessica Lang’s <i>Ghost Variations </i>offered up a very different
reflection on pandemic loss, this time through its structure.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LMk6JgpXM0s/YYmdHKED6fI/AAAAAAAACmo/_9dhNN-plL4W9Lf4AW91FArOoeFaCfbOwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/PNBRep2A%2B0447.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1609" data-original-width="2048" height="502" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LMk6JgpXM0s/YYmdHKED6fI/AAAAAAAACmo/_9dhNN-plL4W9Lf4AW91FArOoeFaCfbOwCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h502/PNBRep2A%2B0447.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PNB Principal Dancer Elizabeth Murphy in Jessica Lang's <i>Ghost Variations<br /></i>photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Lang created the ballet for PNB in 2020, when COVID
protocols meant that only four dancers at a time could be in the studio
together, and only those co-habitating could actually touch one another. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Lang
worked with two pods—eight dancers altogether—to create a dreamy, almost
stately, modern version of a classical ballet, complete with long tulle skirts
and waltzing couples. The twist: the couple very often consisted of one dancer onstage
and a shadow dancer behind a large white screen. For instance, Postlewaite
performed a duet with D’Ariano; later in the ballet, Kyle Davis danced with
four of his own shadows. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Ultimately, newly promoted Principal Dancer Elle Macy and
her partner, fellow principal Dylan Wald, appeared in front of the screen. As I
watched them twirling together across the stage, in contrast with the shadow
duets that came before, I couldn’t help but reflect on how the pandemic really limited
our physical contact with people outside our immediate households. We’ve all
been waltzing with Zoom shadows, haven’t we?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">PNB originally presented this work a year ago as part of its
digital season, but Lang told me then that she always envisioned it to be
performed for a live audience and indeed, I enjoyed it much more as a stage,
rather than screen, presentation.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">The program ended with PNB’s first---and I hope not last---presentation
of work by San Francisco-based Alonzo King.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">According to very brief program notes, <i>The Personal
Element </i>is meant to showcase the interplay between Jason Moran’s piano
score and the virtuosity of the dancers. For me, it did that and much more.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">The eight dancers--Lesley Rausch, Elle Macy, Amanda Morgan,
Cecilia Iliesiu, Miles Pertl (newly promoted to Soloist), Lucien Postlewaite, Dylan
Wald and James Kirby Rogers—are virtuosic indeed, but to me, this 20-minute
ballet was more than a showcase. I found it to be a mesmerizing tapestry of people coming together, dancing alone,
merging into a community.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">When the curtain went up, the entire octet was standing still
under bright lights. Then Iliesiu rose to a teetering point, windmilling her
arms as if she needed them to keep her balance. As if, indeed. Morgan and
Postlewaite emerged in a duet, Morgan lifting a long leg, toe pointed elegantly.
With a quick flick, she flexed her foot, only to return to her pointed
extension. That move, repeated, was like an exclamation mark: see what I can do
balanced on one leg?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8z5CabZdGtM/YYmd7a3GIMI/AAAAAAAACmw/QwiAlTubA1APzlpNFVxDCJl4obojpAsrACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/PNBRep2B%2B0085.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1609" data-original-width="2048" height="502" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8z5CabZdGtM/YYmd7a3GIMI/AAAAAAAACmw/QwiAlTubA1APzlpNFVxDCJl4obojpAsrACLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h502/PNBRep2B%2B0085.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amanda Morgan, left with Lucien Postlewaite in Alonzo King's<i> The Personal Element</i><br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">When Pertl escorted Rausch onto the stage, she had one leg
bent up behind her, and she clutched her foot, the way a runner stretches out a
tight quadricep muscle. As Pertl propelled her diagonally downstage, Rausch repeatedly extended the other leg in front, like a slow-motion prancing pony. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Throughout this ballet, the dancers came forward in dazzling
duets or solos, then rejoined the group in a line reminiscent of the imagery
you might see on a Grecian urn or a painting by Matisse, their legs and arms
intertwined. They stood still, but it wasn’t static. To me, it was as if their
moving bodies had been captured in a still photograph. Days later, I can still
see that image in my mind’s eye, although I’ve got Angela Sterling’s fabulous
photo to refresh my memory. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Mixed rep programs like <i>Beyond Ballet </i>are always a
crap shoot. I’m usually satisfied if I like two of three works on the bill. <i>Beyond Ballet</i>, to stretch my gambling metaphors, was like pulling the slot machine arm and getting three cherries lined
up; PNB hit the jackpot and so did the audiences. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">It may take me a while to readjust to a life lived in
public, but I’m so glad that life will be graced by artists like these. And seriously PNB, if this is where ballet is heading, I'm with you for the ride.<o:p></o:p></span></p><br />rowermarciehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521108522583895812noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961987583859476165.post-12881642833426246582021-11-02T12:31:00.002-07:002021-11-02T12:33:13.322-07:00Seattle Gets a New Dance Studio<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-size: x-large; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f0oGpKeR6uQ/YYGLtb5p-cI/AAAAAAAAClU/PKkJY1FnnI8FeZH2r-oqWt-S4N2mn1iYQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1948/IMG_3693.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1929" data-original-width="1948" height="634" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f0oGpKeR6uQ/YYGLtb5p-cI/AAAAAAAAClU/PKkJY1FnnI8FeZH2r-oqWt-S4N2mn1iYQCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h634/IMG_3693.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Joshua Grant, standing behind dance student, and his partner Christopher E. Montoya, right, inside their new studio, Dance Conservatory Seattle. photo @ Marcia Davis</span><br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;">It was raining the day I drove down to South Park to visit
the newly-opened Dance Conservatory Seattle. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Even without the weather, I might
have missed the studio if co-founder Joshua Grant hadn’t told me specifically
that its exterior was white and blue. The scruffy industrial building, surrounded by a
chain link fence, hardly looks the part of a new arts center. We all know,
though, that looks can be deceiving.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Dance Conservatory Seattle occupies more than 6,000 square
feet in a former warehouse. Grant, with his husband and business partner,
Christopher E. Montoya, found the empty space this past summer.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Somehow they
saw magic in the scuffed and stained indoor/outdoor carpeting in the offices,
the dinged-up walls and the vast, high-ceiling, cement-floored loading dock.
That’s where they installed a sprung dance floor, almost the size of Pacific
Northwest Ballet’s largest rehearsal studio. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Stacks of lumber wait for the
couple to transform these raw building supplies into risers they hope will
provide seating for audiences who attend live performances. When I arrived, a
ballet class was just wrapping up, under the watchful eyes of two standard
poodles and a tiny dog named Gizmo. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mxrWpLhFXOE/YYGMhMjqJ1I/AAAAAAAAClc/W9rgLZ5ym2kWZoJIt_oiyKKZAagac1p6QCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_3692.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1630" data-original-width="2048" height="510" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mxrWpLhFXOE/YYGMhMjqJ1I/AAAAAAAAClc/W9rgLZ5ym2kWZoJIt_oiyKKZAagac1p6QCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h510/IMG_3692.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The family poodles watch Joshua Grant, left, with Christopher E. Montoya <br />photo @ Marcia Davis</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Grant and Montoya hatched the plan to open their own dance
school in the midst of this pandemic. Grant, a PNB soloist, had been sidelined after
Governor Inslee ordered a ban on public gatherings in March 2020, part of the
effort to stem the spread of the coronavirus.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ljg4kyb3l6o/YYGOcCHor7I/AAAAAAAACl0/k6Kc9k2u-lULEPXU7f3h0FeNXOICJvUHACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_3680.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1405" data-original-width="2048" height="440" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ljg4kyb3l6o/YYGOcCHor7I/AAAAAAAACl0/k6Kc9k2u-lULEPXU7f3h0FeNXOICJvUHACLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h440/IMG_3680.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christopher E. Montoya, left, with Joshua Grant <br />photo @ Marcia Davis</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">He and Montoya, who was then
director at Dance Fremont, started teaching what they called “rogue ballet
classes” for very small groups of dancers at Yaw Theater in Georgetown. Several
of their students urged the couple to open their own school. That’s when they
started the search for an appropriate, and affordable, space.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">The South Park location “reeked of regret and
disappointment,” the couple says. Aside from the stained carpeting and walls missing
large paint patches, the former tenants had tried to convert an upstairs office—illegally--into
a bathroom. A piece of white plastic hose still dangles from the room’s wooden
ceiling. But since taking occupancy this summer, Grant and Montoya have been
hard at work. In addition to building a dance floor, they’ve spruced up the
entryway with new floors, paint, and original artwork on the walls. Devoted
students helped build out changing rooms and a little lounge area.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">This fall, Dance Conservatory Seattle only offers open
classes, for vaccinated adults. Grant teaches ballet; Montoya also offers jazz
and modern instruction, and they bring in guest instructors when they can. Ultimately,
Montoya says they dream of creating a school that welcomes anyone, regardless
of gender identification, race, or body type. They plan to create a curriculum
for children as well, once they have wide access to COVID vaccinations.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">While both dancers are classically trained, they envision an
environment that’s less rigid than what they grew up with.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">“We want to train thinkers, not soldiers,” he says.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d8vj0jR_IB8/YYGNBKTRqmI/AAAAAAAAClk/BGZ26_JsBrgRe1OUBdNUiqe6m4QK_-1vQCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/thumbnail_IMG_00431.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d8vj0jR_IB8/YYGNBKTRqmI/AAAAAAAAClk/BGZ26_JsBrgRe1OUBdNUiqe6m4QK_-1vQCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h480/thumbnail_IMG_00431.heic" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christopher E. Montoya, left, with Joshua Grant performing "Les Sylphides"<br />with Les Ballets Trockadero </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Beyond that, the couple, who met while performing with the
drag troupe Les Ballets Trockadero de Monte Carlo, are committed to "ungendering" dances. The Trocks are known for a comedic take on classical ballet; Grant and
Montoya imagine a future where a trained dancer of any gender could take on roles like Giselle or
Swan Lake’s Odette/Odile, without hiding behind the label "drag." </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Beyond
training students who’ve traditionally had access to arts classes,
they couple wants to encourage South Park neighbors who may not have had an
opportunity to dance in a professional studio, to come take a class. As Grant
says, talent is distributed equally; access has not been as equitable.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">If you’re interested in checking out <a href="https://www.danceconservatoryseattle.com/events">Dance Conservatory
Seattle</a>, they’re holding an open house on Sunday, November 14<sup>th</sup>.</span><o:p></o:p></p>rowermarciehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521108522583895812noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961987583859476165.post-29033355192812959152021-09-26T08:18:00.002-07:002021-09-26T08:18:46.596-07:00A Return to Ballet--and to Hope<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n1SDs9pdaNQ/YVCFX2WyTbI/AAAAAAAACeo/Gw8Ko4j6qmsLJ4c6MzQlGmsZVS0xt31bgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Rep1Cerrudo%2B0946.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n1SDs9pdaNQ/YVCFX2WyTbI/AAAAAAAACeo/Gw8Ko4j6qmsLJ4c6MzQlGmsZVS0xt31bgCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h426/Rep1Cerrudo%2B0946.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><span> </span>Pacific Northwest Ballet company members in Alejandro Cerrudo's "One Thousand Pieces" <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>photo @Angela Sterling<p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Almost exactly 18 months ago I had the inordinate privilege
to watch a ballet performance at McCaw Hall.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">It's a privilege I've often enjoyed, but this particular show was different. I was one of three journalists
invited to Pacific Northwest Ballet’s dress rehearsal of resident choreographer
Alejandro Cerrudo’s “One Thousand Pieces” and David Dawson’s “Empire Noir.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">But this wasn’t your standard dress rehearsal. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">A few
days before, in a desperate move to slow Covid-19’s relentless spread through Washington
State, Governor Jay Inslee had ordered a halt to public gatherings. </span><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">None of us had any idea how long the closure would last. Everyone was jittery, uncertain what to expect.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">P</span><span style="font-family: arial;">NB artists
presented this single show for a miniscule audience; about 80 people were
dispersed in the vast hall, witnesses to an impassioned and heartbreaking
performance, in many ways a farewell to the familiar. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5cbjfVbVVuA/YVCHMNk_-EI/AAAAAAAACew/wyohkB9Vs2EgGhcOh3zjrD7QOzs8Ny8PQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Premiere18%2B1616.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1329" data-original-width="2048" height="416" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5cbjfVbVVuA/YVCHMNk_-EI/AAAAAAAACew/wyohkB9Vs2EgGhcOh3zjrD7QOzs8Ny8PQCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h416/Premiere18%2B1616.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span> </span>PNB company members in Alejandro Cerrudo's "Silent Ghost." photo @ Angela Sterling<br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">That evening was very much top of mind for me on Friday,
September 24<sup>th</sup>, as more than 1,000 ecstatic ballet fans gathered, masked, in
McCaw Hall to celebrate PNB’s return to live performances with, fittingly, an
evening of Cerrudo ballets, including an excerpt from “One Thousand Pieces."<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Passing through the ID and vaccination card check into the
lobby was both strange and strangely familiar, a reincarnation and reinvention of life in the
“before times.” Things were different, but joyful; as each patron handed her ticket for scanning, the ushers
greeted us with smiling eyes, welcoming back the denizens of this arts palace.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">I don’t mean to imply that I didn't enjoy PNB’s
all-digital 2020-21 artistic season, along with streaming offerings from some
of the world’s great dance companies. There’s no denying the upside of watching
dance in your pajamas—affordable, accessible, comfortable. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">But, truly, nothing
compares to sitting in the theater before a show, hearing the chatter of
your fellow patrons, thumbing through the program, gazing at McCaw Hall’s
sumptuous red spangled curtain, filled with anticipation as you wait for it to rise. It’s a singular experience, particular to each
individual, but shared with everyone in the building. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">And on this night of nights, we were ready to celebrate.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">When PNB Artistic Director Peter Boal came through the
curtain to welcome us back, the cheers and applause lasted at least a full
minute and probably would have gone on longer but for the fact that we were all
impatient to see the dancers, to witness ballet performed live for us.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">The program, “Singularly Cerrudo,” was a fitting opening
presentation.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">For one thing, Alejandro Cerrudo’s appointment as PNB’s
resident choreographer came just a few months before the Covid shutdown, so
audiences really didn’t have the opportunity to welcome him. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nj8m1-iI2Fc/YVCIPBA1EeI/AAAAAAAACe4/zxpxFeJ78yw8S1X9nbY95BWZ0TAnIZl0ACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Rep1Cerrudo%2B1565.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1483" data-original-width="2048" height="464" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nj8m1-iI2Fc/YVCIPBA1EeI/AAAAAAAACe4/zxpxFeJ78yw8S1X9nbY95BWZ0TAnIZl0ACLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h464/Rep1Cerrudo%2B1565.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>PNB Principal Dancer Dylan Wald with Soloist Elle Macy in Alejandro Cerrudo's "Little Mortal Jump." <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>photo @ Angela Sterling<br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Beyond that,
Cerrudo’s work is performed mainly to recorded music (although a small group of
PNB orchestra members did play live--wonderfully--for one of the ballets), requiring fewer
musicians to gather together in the orchestra pit. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">And although the three works
on the bill do feature some exquisite duets, there are also sections that
don’t require the dancers to touch one another, a side benefit when it comes to
health and safety precautions.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">I am an unabashed Cerrudo fan. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">I love the way his
choreography, music selection, and brilliant Michael Korsch’s dreamy lighting
designs, merge to conjure emotions ranging from the almost elegiac evocations of human connection and separation in “Silent Ghost,” the program opener, to
the surreal watery world of “One Thousand Pieces,” to my personal favorite,
“Little Mortal Jump,” which on this September evening felt like a tentative ode
to the future.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1-35U5VRPRg/YVCJU5um4YI/AAAAAAAACfA/EPNa79L2xU893iMiNmy0Qut5TuVxs_RlgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Premiere18%2B1657.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1609" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1-35U5VRPRg/YVCJU5um4YI/AAAAAAAACfA/EPNa79L2xU893iMiNmy0Qut5TuVxs_RlgCLcBGAsYHQ/w502-h640/Premiere18%2B1657.jpg" width="502" /></a></div><span> </span><span> </span>PNB Principal Dancers Noelani Pantastico and Lucien Postlewaite in Alejandro Cerrudo's <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span> "Silent Ghost," photo @ Angela Sterling<br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">PNB’s dancers gave everything—even more than 100%--to this show. It was a revelation to see them perform live after so long and their joy at the return to live performance was abundantly clear. Bravos to everyone. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Three couples
shone in particular. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">In “Silent Ghost,” Noelani Pantastico and Lucien
Postlewaite were flawless. They have been onstage partners at PNB and Ballet de
Monte Carlo for many years, and that knowledge, comfort and mutual trust were evident, as was
their technical command and their artistic mastery. Pantastico and Postlewaite
don’t perform choreography; they inhabit it.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w1ossNYsdBs/YVCKYjVsFTI/AAAAAAAACfI/QS_24f15JR8eoCJ9kAUWdNNtH3vYKGSEQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Rep1Cerrudo%2B1113.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1543" data-original-width="2048" height="482" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w1ossNYsdBs/YVCKYjVsFTI/AAAAAAAACfI/QS_24f15JR8eoCJ9kAUWdNNtH3vYKGSEQCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h482/Rep1Cerrudo%2B1113.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span> </span>PNB corps de ballet members Christopher D'Ariano and Leah Terada in Alejandro Cerrudo's <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>"One Thousand Pieces," photo @ Angela Sterling<br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">In “One Thousand Pieces,” corps de ballet members
Christopher D’Ariano and Leah Terada were paired for the first time, and
watching them dance together was a revelation. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">D’Ariano has stood out for me ever since he
joined the company as an apprentice in 2017; Terada has been a steady, lovely presence
throughout her PNB tenure, but during this Covid break, she’s had more opportunity
to be front and center both in PNB digital productions and in work she created
and performed with partner Miles Pertl. She has developed a quiet self confidence onstage. Terada and D’Ariano together were magic
in this ballet.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Finally, but by no means least, Elle Macy and Dylan Wald in
“Little Mortal Jump” reconfirmed their talents for us. They are a couple
offstage, and that infuses their onstage partnership. Their every move
is perfectly synched, their bodies a lovely match. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZQkEUMfN2WE/YVCLfCjihYI/AAAAAAAACfQ/5equKlps5ccyOzuh3BfjyJOs34IowWQxgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Rep1Cerrudo%2B1537.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1609" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZQkEUMfN2WE/YVCLfCjihYI/AAAAAAAACfQ/5equKlps5ccyOzuh3BfjyJOs34IowWQxgCLcBGAsYHQ/w502-h640/Rep1Cerrudo%2B1537.jpg" width="502" /></a></div><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>PNB's Elle Macy and Dylan Wald in Alejandro Cerrudo's "Little Mortal Jump." <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>photo @ Angela Sterling<br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Watching them move in slow
motion toward the bright light shining from the wings felt like a metaphor for
all of us as we creep with tentative hope into the future. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Whatever that future holds, I want it to include these
dancers, on this stage, with all of us sitting in the audience. </span><o:p></o:p></p>rowermarciehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521108522583895812noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961987583859476165.post-62303793908697825032021-09-19T13:24:00.002-07:002021-09-20T06:27:38.428-07:00 Coming Back to Ballet<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6wrpAcQkuAA/YUeTOFyNeWI/AAAAAAAACdc/Tv0aQPFzouMo85EK0UDMsk55x1k_W7u5ACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/RedAngels.Rausch.AS.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1366" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6wrpAcQkuAA/YUeTOFyNeWI/AAAAAAAACdc/Tv0aQPFzouMo85EK0UDMsk55x1k_W7u5ACLcBGAsYHQ/w438-h640/RedAngels.Rausch.AS.jpg" width="438" /></a></div> <span style="font-size: x-small;">Lesley Rausch in Ulysses Dove's "Red Angels" photo @ Angela Sterling</span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></span> </p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">It’s been forever since I last posted here.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Pandemic. You know how it is.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">But, it’s time to stop using global disease as an excuse not
to write, so here goes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">A few months ago, I ran into Pacific Northwest Ballet
Principal Dancer Lesley Rausch on the street near the Seattle Center. We got to
talking about the year+ of Covid, about ourselves, about our dreams for the
future. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I’d just retired from my 35-year career in public radio. The
pandemic put the kibosh on my plans to attend grad school in New York, so I was
thinking out loud about my next step. Lesley—who’s approaching 40, an age when
many ballet dancers contemplate their futures—knew exactly what I meant when I
talked about transitions. We said our goodbyes, looking forward to PNB’s next
artistic season. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">That conversation really stuck with me, so in August, I
asked Lesley if she’d be willing to talk to me regularly over the next months,
about everything from getting back into ballet shape to what it means to be one
of PNB’s senior dancers to her thoughts on the future. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">She agreed.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Cdin-pB-Co/YUeWklc3zLI/AAAAAAAACds/Xdh1w64SMTMWOF8Qm3sxoPzoZC78thFkACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_3609.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Cdin-pB-Co/YUeWklc3zLI/AAAAAAAACds/Xdh1w64SMTMWOF8Qm3sxoPzoZC78thFkACLcBGAsYHQ/w480-h640/IMG_3609.jpg" width="480" /></a></div> Lesley Rausch, September 1, 2021, Seattle Center<br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">We met for the first time on a beautiful early September
afternoon. The yellowing leaves on the trees above the bench where we sat, not
far from PNB’s Seattle Center home, filtered the sunshine although not the
construction noise from nearby Climate Pledge Arena.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">“I think there’s going to be a lot of emotion when we come
back to the theater,” Lesley told me. “On both sides of the curtain.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">I’d asked her about the ballet company’s upcoming season. On
September 24<sup>th</sup>, Rausch and her fellow dancers are scheduled to
return to the McCaw Hall stage for their first performance for a live audience
in more than a year. I write “scheduled,” because if we’ve learned anything
from the pandemic, it’s that nothing is certain. For now, though, both artists
and ballet fans like me are looking forward to the big night.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">For Lesley, it’s been a long and emotionally arduous road
back to the stage.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Like almost every arts presenter in the world, PNB shut its
doors in mid-March, 2020, the day after the dress rehearsal of choreographer-in-residence
Alejandro Cerrudo’s “One Thousand Pieces.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Lesley wasn’t onstage that night. She was rehabbing an
injury, prepping to perform the title role in the classic ballet “Giselle,” the
next scheduled presentation last April. But when Governor Jay Inslee mandated that
all public venues shut down, her plans went out the window.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">“We didn’t know if--or when--we’d be coming back,” she
recalls. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">As the weeks passed, it became clear that PNB’s artistic season---at
least as planned—was over. Although the ballet company quickly decided to pivot
to a digital season, starting with previously recorded performances, nobody
could predict when they’d dance again for live audiences.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2mwq1u0gdms/YUeXMo2GWuI/AAAAAAAACd0/TFzjb_MIce4w8W9WGVRbMvrY4XQC-_fFgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/SwanDRESS%2B1084.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2mwq1u0gdms/YUeXMo2GWuI/AAAAAAAACd0/TFzjb_MIce4w8W9WGVRbMvrY4XQC-_fFgCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h426/SwanDRESS%2B1084.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Lesley Rausch and husband Batkhurel Bold in Kent Stowell's "Swan Lake," photo @Lindsay Thomas</div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">For Lesley and her husband, former PNB Principal Dancer Batkhurel Bold, the end of the artistic season normally meant they'd return home to Hawai'i. But Covid travel restrictions trapped them in a Seattle limbo: no jobs, no way to travel, no clue what to expect moving forward.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Like all of us, Lesley struggled to keep her spirits up. Often,
she couldn’t summon up the energy to attend the online classes PNB offered its
dancers. Instead, she did a lot of Pilates, and took long walks with her
husband, exploring Seattle neighborhoods they’d never had the time to see when
they were both working. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">She was grateful to get regular unemployment checks, and
even though PNB had laid off the majority of its staff, company managers
committed to continuing health care benefits. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Despite her relatively stable
situation, Lesley was emotionally gutted by the extended break from her beloved
ballet. She’d never spent so much time away from the studio. Unlike her younger
colleagues who could spring back into their careers after a six-month hiatus,
as Lesley homed in on her 20<sup>th</sup> season with PNB, she knew her
performing days were numbered. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qxouUagylko/YUeX8dt_7kI/AAAAAAAACd8/YdOuQfD325A2hPOoDeQ3vscaYaTn5c2hwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Cendrillion%2B408.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1365" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qxouUagylko/YUeX8dt_7kI/AAAAAAAACd8/YdOuQfD325A2hPOoDeQ3vscaYaTn5c2hwCLcBGAsYHQ/w426-h640/Cendrillion%2B408.jpg" width="426" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">Lesley as the Stepmother in Jean-Christophe Maillot's "Cendrillon." photo @Angela Sterling</span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">PNB called back its dancers in August, 2020, but it wasn’t
business as usual. Operating under strict Covid safety protocols, the dancers
were divided into small pods of four to six people. They rarely encountered
anyone outside their group. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Lesley hated the separation from her friends and colleagues,
but she says the hardest thing was getting her body in shape for the demands
ballet would place on it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">“It was a shock,” she says. “All those tiny little muscles
that allow me to roll slowly up to pointe, they weren’t there anymore.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">She remembers those first couple of weeks back as “tortuous;”
each evening she’d return home in tears.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">“It was really hard to believe that I could ever get back to
the place I was before.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Beyond the work needed to get her body ready, Lesley was
gutted by the fact that Covid protocols dictated that only dancers who lived
together could dance as partners, in the studio and onstage. For her, it was
the loss of one of the things she loves best about ballet.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">“It’s such a unique experience, and I didn’t get it at all
last year.” She pauses, as tears well up in her eyes. “In a way I took it for
granted.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Lesley did have one opportunity to work with a partner, though.
She was paired with Dylan Wald in a duet from George Balanchine’s “Apollo” for
a performance marking his promotion to Principal Dancer.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-byeAUGK68BQ/YUeYnheGjBI/AAAAAAAACeE/DXUE99BmBsYLcIHwNL5-mxOVN0PlTwXdQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Apollo20_LT_016.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-byeAUGK68BQ/YUeYnheGjBI/AAAAAAAACeE/DXUE99BmBsYLcIHwNL5-mxOVN0PlTwXdQCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h426/Apollo20_LT_016.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span>Lesley and Dylan Wald in Balanchine's "Apollo," 2020. photo @Lindsay Thomas<p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">It’s been almost a year since that performance streamed
online, but I still remember the shock I felt when I watched Lesley reach out her hand
to Dylan, their fingers lightly touching. We’d all been shuttered away for so many months,
deprived of casual hugs, handshakes and physical contact. Seeing these two dancers connect made me weep both for what we’d all lost, and
in gratitude to the artists who let me experience that contact vicariously.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Last summer, Lesley didn’t know if she’d even get the chance
to dance for a live audience again. If the pandemic dragged on for too long,
she feared it would be just too difficult to summon the discipline to work as
hard as she needed to prepare her body. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Now, though, as she and her colleagues
approach the launch of the new artistic season, she’s less anxious, maybe even
a little hopeful. She made it to another artistic season with PNB.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">But Lesley’s clear that while things <i>seem</i> close to normal in
the studio, nothing is normal, or at least not the way it was in the “before
times”. Millions of us heading back to classrooms or office cubicles are
experiencing that same combination of hope and trepidation. We long to have our old lives back.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">What’s changed, at least at PNB, is a lot more understanding about how to dance with the a deadly virus.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">“We’re all in masks, and there are stringent protocols about
what you can do,” Lesley says. This season, the company gets to rehearse in
larger groups, rather than in the small pods they were restricted to last season. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Plus, the new rules allow
vaccinated company members to dance together. Lesley’s been rehearsing a pas de deux
from George Balanchine’s “Diamonds” with Dylan Wald. She’s also learning two
duets from Alejandro Cerrudo’s “Silent Ghost,” one of three Cerrudo ballets
that make up <a href="https://www.pnb.org/season/singularly-cerrudo/?utm_source=wordfly&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=P-NP22Rep1InPersonKBYG&utm_content=version_A&promo=22275#casting">PNB’s opening program, “Singularly Cerrudo.”</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">“To be able to come back and really, truly work. It’s such a
blessing,” Lesley says. But she confesses that it’s been an emotional
homecoming.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">“I cried at least five times the first day back.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Lesley Rausch anticipates more tears when the McCaw Hall
curtain goes up on September 24<sup>th</sup>. Onstage and off.<o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>rowermarciehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521108522583895812noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961987583859476165.post-40358893558701212502019-12-16T12:34:00.001-08:002019-12-16T12:34:10.743-08:00Three Nutcrackers, One Curmudgeon<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IgcGHN6NZas/XffnAbgOFjI/AAAAAAAACAk/KbmePbtGRUoUBYYeFrstTX__OtX5sQQyACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/PNB-TheNutcracker-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1002" data-original-width="1600" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IgcGHN6NZas/XffnAbgOFjI/AAAAAAAACAk/KbmePbtGRUoUBYYeFrstTX__OtX5sQQyACLcBGAsYHQ/s640/PNB-TheNutcracker-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The grand finale of Pacific Northwest Ballet's production of Balanchine's "The Nutcracker"<br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
I had one of those ‘aha’ moments this weekend.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
An epiphany. A revelation. A
shock of self-discovery.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
I actually like the Nutcracker
ballet.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
Doesn’t that sound sort of obvious for a person who writes a lot about dance in general
and ballet in particular?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
Trust me, this realization took me by surprise.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
I’ve seen some version of the
Nutcracker every year for decades; sometimes I attend more than one
performance.<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HfifJy6kaLY/XffnPFO8MiI/AAAAAAAACAo/A0OHNAfJDsEypKZyTTsfauFeggowibPKgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/PNB-TheNutcracker-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1192" data-original-width="1600" height="476" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HfifJy6kaLY/XffnPFO8MiI/AAAAAAAACAo/A0OHNAfJDsEypKZyTTsfauFeggowibPKgCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/PNB-TheNutcracker-4.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PNB dancers are lovely snowflakes, aren't they?<br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
Usually I’m there because I’m
writing a story, or checking out young dancers making their debuts in featured
roles. For years I’ve been oh so nonchalant about the production: so hokey,
so saccharine, so predictable. (Not to mention Drosselmeier, giver of the
nutcracker, a role that’s just short of pedophile.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
Imagine my surprise to discover that somehow, without me noticing, the Nutcracker’s joy and optimism had penetrated my
curmudgeonly cynic’s shell. It was almost like I was hit upside the head by a
projectile of some sort…like an un-cracked walnut.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
In a way, that’s exactly what
happened; the projectile was Mark Morris’ acclaimed take on the ballet, “The
Hard Nut.”</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Hy5zFPHwehY/XffndRamviI/AAAAAAAACAw/ZU2T21VDK40G2FQLjcoAfOrbQ4UzUUVOACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/The%2BHard%2BNut.%2BPhoto%2Bby%2BJulieta%2BCervantes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Hy5zFPHwehY/XffndRamviI/AAAAAAAACAw/ZU2T21VDK40G2FQLjcoAfOrbQ4UzUUVOACLcBGAsYHQ/s640/The%2BHard%2BNut.%2BPhoto%2Bby%2BJulieta%2BCervantes.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snowflakes ala Mark Morris in "The Hard Nut"<br />photo @ Julieta Cervantes</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
With visual inspiration drawn
from comic artist Charles Burns, and gender-bending casting, Morris has created
a hipster’s-eye take on the holiday classic. Morris told a journalist not long
ago that he was inspired by the full Tchaikovsky score, performed at Seattle’s
Paramount Theatre this year by a small, live orchestra. Sitting in the audience
last week, I felt a disconnect between the
soaring beauty of the music and Morris’ snarky, wink-wink choreography. Most of
the audience found it hilarious. In me, it all evinced a clear-eyed realization that
I want my holiday entertainment to inspire me. Straight up, if you will. Pardon the pun.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
That’s not to say I’m wed to
George Balanchine’s 1954 choreography, now onstage in Pacific Northwest
Ballet’s production at McCaw Hall. I'll take my Nutcracker joy where it presents itself.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
This weekend I attended a
workshop of Donald Byrd’s “Harlem Nutcracker,” a show he created originally in
1996 for his New York-based company. Set to the Duke Ellington-Billy Strayhorn
jazz adaption of Tchaikovsky’s music, Byrd's rendition of the 1892
ballet takes place in contemporary Harlem.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZZhQTYdsUyc/XffnqRHRDAI/AAAAAAAACA4/4Xxlj1pPw80s7hVoJg2gDPwH0pyF4MDhQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Harlem_Nutcracker_MD97-47-1xl-460%2BPC-Susan%2BKuklin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="461" data-original-width="653" height="450" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZZhQTYdsUyc/XffnqRHRDAI/AAAAAAAACA4/4Xxlj1pPw80s7hVoJg2gDPwH0pyF4MDhQCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/Harlem_Nutcracker_MD97-47-1xl-460%2BPC-Susan%2BKuklin.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Original production of Donald Byrd's "Harlem Nutcracker"<br />photo @ Susan Kuklin courtesy Spectrum Dance</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
Even truncated and presented in workshop form,
Byrd’s “Harlem Nutcracker” delivered the emotional punch I didn’t realize I was
craving. He hews to the same story line as Balanchine, but where
Clara is a young girl in the ballet, she’s a recent widow in Harlem, visited by
the ghost of her late husband. The choreography—at least what Byrd presented in
this workshop—was sassy and saucy, and I look forward to seeing a full-on
production. The all-ages packed house was with me on that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
We’re living in dark times, both
literally as we inch towards the Winter solstice, and figuratively, as Congress
claws its way to impeaching the man in the White House. So many people I know
are overwhelmed right now, in search of diversions or laughter, or maybe the
oblivion that comes with one eggnog shot too many.<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Plwe0R-zXrY/XffoBIIajKI/AAAAAAAACBE/ggwda0wM9q4A8ob1Uw5Yu9AYH8vsc0LCACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/PNB-TheNutcracker-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Plwe0R-zXrY/XffoBIIajKI/AAAAAAAACBE/ggwda0wM9q4A8ob1Uw5Yu9AYH8vsc0LCACLcBGAsYHQ/s640/PNB-TheNutcracker-3.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My spirits soar with PNB's Leta Biasucci as the Sugar Plum Fairy<br />photo </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
Personally I need something to
remind me of the powerful and resilient human spirit. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
That’s not to say I don’t love
some of the sillier holiday shows, your Buttcracker or gay cabaret, for example. But this
time of year I crave art that inspires at least a few hours of gratitude and
good will. You may find the holiday spirit in a performance of Handel’s
stirring “Messiah,” or at ACT Theatre’s annual stage adaptation of Charles
Dickens’ story of redemption, “A Christmas Carol,” or in any number of other
December productions. Apparently, and unbeknownst to me, I find it at PNB's Nutcracker.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
As I sat through Morris’
alt-version, enjoying his take on Snowflakes, appalled by creepy
Drosselmeier, my mind went unbidden to the ballet, to the magical synergy of
Tchaikovsky and Balanchine. That’s when it hit me: omg, I’m a sap. A sappy holiday
sap. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
Oy vey!!!</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5o3mf_5US30/XffqH3TigXI/AAAAAAAACBQ/LGmt9Xzf50sMdU6qDQC_Y5nSI5nbAtFUQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/PNB-TheNutcracker-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1258" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5o3mf_5US30/XffqH3TigXI/AAAAAAAACBQ/LGmt9Xzf50sMdU6qDQC_Y5nSI5nbAtFUQCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/PNB-TheNutcracker-5.jpg" width="502" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nothing sappier than Mother Ginger!<br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
Happy Holidays y’all. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />rowermarciehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521108522583895812noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961987583859476165.post-66611166461181868152019-12-02T08:55:00.003-08:002019-12-03T07:58:06.345-08:00I Found a Reason to Smile<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7fa43DQ0ivo/XeVAXDnLsbI/AAAAAAAAB_g/j351R5cj3s88mGJnjcl3LSAMS-2MU29YQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/PNB-TheNutcracker-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1192" data-original-width="1600" height="476" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7fa43DQ0ivo/XeVAXDnLsbI/AAAAAAAAB_g/j351R5cj3s88mGJnjcl3LSAMS-2MU29YQCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/PNB-TheNutcracker-4.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pacific Northwest Ballet company members in George Balanchine's 'The Nutcracker'<br />
photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
I really envy people who get to
see Pacific Northwest Ballet’s “Nutcracker” for the very first time.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
(To be accurate, it’s <a href="https://order.pnb.org/events/nutcracker">PNB’s production of “George
Balanchine’s The Nutcracker,”</a> created for New York City Ballet in 1954 and
first presented in Seattle in 2015.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
Back to my envy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
I was one of thousands of people
who flocked to Marion Oliver McCaw Hall this past weekend for the show’s annual
opening performances. Unlike most of my fellow audience members, I’ve seen some
version of this classic ballet dozens of times over the years. Partly, that’s
because it’s my job to see things. But like many of us, this time of year I’m
searching for experiences of awe and wonder; for sense memories of what it
means to be our fullest selves.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8m-L7qh3blY/XeaF8oIO54I/AAAAAAAACAI/ZodgoaqAaQwkFU4kfyvXmkj2AU3gea9HACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/PNBNutBckstg2%2B0210.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8m-L7qh3blY/XeaF8oIO54I/AAAAAAAACAI/ZodgoaqAaQwkFU4kfyvXmkj2AU3gea9HACLcBGAsYHQ/s640/PNBNutBckstg2%2B0210.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Always stunning PNB principal dancer Noelani Pantastico<br />photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr>
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Watching little girls dressed up
in their holiday finery, hearing them gasp as the curtain goes up and they see
Clara, Fritz and a holiday party for the first time? Well, that’s what I envy:
their surprise and delight, their sheer wonder at the extravagance of it all.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So, every year I return to PNB
and---to paraphrase a friend and fellow arts writer—I open my heart chakra,
hoping to experience some new delight. This year it came in the form of a young
dancer named Adam Abdi, who is cast in the role of Fritz, Clara’s bratty
younger brother.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wdB_6RLIKxw/XeVAuKy-exI/AAAAAAAAB_o/9-ncLCRzz70eDDNRjTeIpyIFbmRO5WVbQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/PNBNut2019%2B0115.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="950" data-original-width="1600" height="380" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wdB_6RLIKxw/XeVAuKy-exI/AAAAAAAAB_o/9-ncLCRzz70eDDNRjTeIpyIFbmRO5WVbQCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/PNBNut2019%2B0115.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's Adam Abdi in center stage, with the red tie, holding Madison Taylor's hand<br />
PNB photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr>
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If you don’t know anything about “Nutcracker,”
suffice it to say that in Act I, Fritz and Clara’s parents host a Christmas
party. An odd gentleman named Drosselmeier arrives and presents Clara with a
nutcracker that later evolves into an animate creature who vanquishes some
invasive rats. Or mice. Some type of rodent infestation.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Back to Adam/Fritz.<o:p></o:p></div>
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As I said, I’ve seen a load of
Nutcracker productions and rafts of ballet students performing roles that range
from candy canes and angels to the flock of Polichinelles who emerge from under
Mother Ginger’s voluminous skirts. Usually the focus is on the student cast as
Clara; Marissa Luu was impressive on opening night. But Adam Abdi stole the
show, and my heart. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Abdi infused Balanchine’s 65 year
old choreography with fresh verve. When he grabbed the nutcracker from his sister’s
arms and cantered around the stage, he was the epitome of the jealous sibling
exacting a moment of revenge. But Abdi is more than a budding actor. The kid
has all the makings of a dancer.<o:p></o:p></div>
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He swung his legs in wide,
graceful arcs, his toes pointed. Leading a gaggle of boys, his imaginary pony
ride was full of joy and timed well to Tchaikovsky’s score (performed with
typical brio by the PNB orchestra). Even when Miles Pertl, as Fritz’s father,
scooped him up off the floor at the end of the party, Abdi’s Fritz kicked up a
furious, and realistic, storm. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2RGiOwlkINQ/XeVBDEgpZ-I/AAAAAAAAB_w/Dh8LcWydTtwOhOOEwPgYeWyscROh3UPOACEwYBhgL/s1600/PNB-TheNutcracker-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2RGiOwlkINQ/XeVBDEgpZ-I/AAAAAAAAB_w/Dh8LcWydTtwOhOOEwPgYeWyscROh3UPOACEwYBhgL/s640/PNB-TheNutcracker-3.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PNB Principal Dancer Leta Biasucci soars as the Sugar Plum Fairy<br />
photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr>
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This year’s opening night cast
offered the usual great performances from PNB company members. I particularly
enjoyed Noelani Pantastico as an enigmatic Peacock (officially, she's dancing a section called Coffee), Elizabeth Murphy’s
sparkling Dewdrop and Leta Biasucci’s sprightly Sugar Plum Fairy. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PNB principal dancer Elizabeth Murphy is a stunning Dewdrop<br />
photo @ Angela Sterling</td></tr>
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But I left McCaw Hall with
visions not of sugar plums dancing in my head, but of Adam Abdi standing center
stage, beaming out at the audience. I hope he will keep dancing, because this
boy was born for the stage. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I wonder if that’s what somebody
said when Peter Boal once danced that very same role?<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />rowermarciehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03521108522583895812noreply@blogger.com4