Wednesday, June 11, 2008

info for pictures

http://www.tg-berlin.de/daphne_bp2004/index.html
photographer unknown.
year 2004.
country Germany.

http://www.pnb.org
photographer Angela Sterling.
year unknown.
country USA.

http://www.svetlana-zakharova.com/Photo18.html
year unknown.
country England.

http://www.lindapaul.com
year unknown.

http://www.artlevin.com
year unknown.
country USA.

Thursday, June 5, 2008

Narrative 5

Ever since I was little, I knew what I wanted to do with my life. Even at the tender age of 7, when I entered l'Ecole de Danse de l'Opera Paris, I knew. It was the only thing that sparked my interest even the slightest bit. I wanted to dance. I wanted to be an etoile of the Paris Opera Ballet. The most renouned ballet in all of France. Maybe the world. I wanted to let my heart and soul soar off the stage and into those of the people watching me. I want them to feel my pain, my love, my life. I want to dance, more than anything in the world.
When I entered the school, I had no idea as to what I was getting myself into. I was amazed by the sacrifices that I needed to make, even at 7 years old. I cried everyday for the first few weeks I was there. I was away from my parents, my family, my friends. Ballet every morning, every afternoon, every night. I cried and cried. Then I realized, I wanted this. I got myself into this, and I will stick to it. My realization of my love for ballet made me stop crying.
I wanted it so badly that I worked my hardest everyday. I was 7 and the top of my class. My class where everyone was at least 2 years older than me. They were mean to me, but I knew that I had to ignore them to reach my goal. In the blink of an eye, I was 10 and in the hightest level class. I was sure that I wasnt liked very much by the other girls, but it didn't bother me too much because I was doing what I love. My teachers admired me, and pretty soon I realized that I was getting all of the lead roles in our presentations. By the time I was only 14, I was taking company classes. I was astonished by the attention I recieved by the directors. They scrutinized everyone in class, but it seemed like whenever their eyes reached me, a warm smile won over their faces, and changed thier whole body language. Then they continued their study and tightened their faces. I began in the corps roles, but I was fine with that because I was still doing what I loved. During the company's opening season, I realized that when I looked at the assignment sheet for the roles of the dancers, that I was given the lead role in our opening performance of Giselle. I felt gifted, rewarded, and most of all, accomplished. Of course, the performance was the day after my 17th birthday. That night, when I opened Giselle, waw slike all of my best dreams compacted together, and formed into one reality. I could barely believe it was real. The day after my opening performance, I was given a chance. A chance to begin my life. A chance to begin my dream. I knew I had to take it. Which leaves me here. A contract in my shaking hands. My heart pounding. Sweat building up. A huge smile on my face. Without hesitation, I signed that piece of paper that would change my life. That piece of paper made me my dream. It made my dream come true. It made me an etoile of the Paris Opera Ballet. My life long dream from age 7, finally coming true 10 years later. Dreams really do come true. Now i get to look forward to the rest of my life, living that dream.

Narrative 4

Why can't they see it? Am I doing something wrong? I work my hardest everyday. Everyday I work so hard that its difficult to breath. I can barely stand. My feet bleed, my arms ache, even my eyes begin to close. But still, they never notice. Do I not look right? Is my leg too low? Its never me who gets the parts. Its never me who get s to stand in the front, and I'm the shortest. I should stand in the front! But its always the girl that stands next to me in the center, or the one who goes before me across the floor in grand allegro. Never me. I even jump higher than them in my entreche chats, and get my leg higher than them in my developes. I perform more. I even have better feet! But for some reason, none of that matters. I just want to know why I am not good enough for them. Why I am not recognized for the work I do. I put my mind, body, and soul into my ballet, but they still dont see that. I want to know why. I kill myself everyday. Day after day of killing myself, then waking up the next day to repeat my constant routine of killing myself. And for what? To be honest, I'm not quite sure yet. I just know that when I am dancing, it feels right. Even though I don't get the attention that I believe I deserve, I still feel okay when I'm dancing. It is only afterwards that I realize that I am not being seen. I guess one never knows why they do something they love. They just do. And I think that's the beauty of it all. So I work so hard that I want to fall apart right there on the cold, sticky marley floor to not get noticed at all. Doing what I love. Until one day, hopefully, someone will see how much I love doing what I do. How hard I work to achieve what I have. How hard I will work to catch someone, anyone's attention. After all, Love is supposed to be hard, isn't it? It is supposed to be hard, but in the end, if you love enough, everything works out. I hope the same works for ballet. And my dream.

excerpts

"'Why do you want to dance?'
'Why do you want to live?'
'Well I don't know exactly why, er, but I must.'
'That's my answer too.'"
-The Red Shoes

"'How would you define ballet, Lady Neston?'
'Well, one might call it the poetry of motion perhaps, or...'
'One might. But for me it is a great deal more. For me it is a religion.'"
-The Red Shoes

"Learning ballet is wonderful for children even if they never become dancers. I tis wonderful because it teaches discipline, grace, and manners."
-Ballet: An Eight-Year Course

"Ballet dancers are a self-chosen elite. To survive and surmount years of disciplinary perparation and seasons of even more arduous performance requires rigid determination and almost mindless self-abnegation. One other factor is difficult to predetermine: without a certain admixture of hysteria -- sometimes masking as self-obsession, sometimes even counterfeiting incipient madness -- performers,a t once acrobats, artists, and animals, make little public impression."
-Four Centuries of Ballet

more excerpts...

Dancing in Red Shoes Will Kill You by Dorian Cirrone
A Dance of Sisters by Tracy Porter
A Company of Swans by Eva Ibbotson
The Ballet Companion by Eliza Gaynor Minden
I, Maya Plisteskaya by Maya Plisetskaya
Theatre Street-the Reminiscences of Tamara Karsavina by Tamara Karsavina
Nureyev by Rudolph Nureyev
Once a Dancer by Allegra Kent
Ballet Mystique: Behind the Glamour of the Ballet Russe by George Zoritch
Dance to the Piper by Agnes De Mille
Baryshnikov in Russia by Nina Alovert
Fonteyn and Nureyev by Alexander Bland
101 Stories of the Great Ballets by George Balanchine and Francis Mason
Ballerina-The Art of Women in Classical Ballet by Mary Clarke and Clement Crisp
The Red Shoes Directed by Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger
The Company Directed by Robert Altman
Save the Last Dance Directed by Thomas Carter
Step Up Directed by Anne Fletcher
Center Stage Directed by Nicholas Hytner
Fame Directed by Alan Parker

more pictures...

"The Star" Edgar Degas, 1871-81, France
"Dance Lesson" Edgar Degas, 1872, France
"The Dancing Class" Edgar Degas, 1873-75, France
"The Star (Dancer on Stage)" Edgar Degas, 1878, France
"Dancers in Pink" Edgar Degas, 1880-85, France
"Blue Dancers" Edgar Degas, 1899, France
"Two Dancers in Blue" Edgar Degas, 1899, France
"Ballerina and Lady wiht a Fan" Edgar Degas, 1885, France
"E'cole de Danse" Edgar Degas, 1873, France
"Ballet Dance" Edgar Degas, 1877, France
"Four Dancers" Edgar Degas, 1899, France
"Ballet Dancers in the Wings" Edgar Degas, 1900, France
"La Classe de Danse" Edgar Degas, 1871, France
"Dancing Examination" Edgar Degas, 1874, France
"Dancers Practicing at the Barre" Edgar Degas, 1877, France
"The Rhearsal of the Ballet on Stage" Edgar Degas, 1874, France
"Dancers Backstage" Edgar Degas, France
"Dancer Posing at the Photographer Studio" Edgar Degas, 1875, France
"The Dance Lesson" Edgar Degas, 1879, France
"The Rehearsal 01" Edgar Degas, 1873-78, France
"Dance School" Edgar Degas, 1874, France
"Seated Dancer" Edgar Degas, 1879-80, France
"Marianela Nunez-The Lilac Fairy and Tamara Rojo-Princess Aurora (Vision)" John Ross, 2008, England
"Iohna Loots as White Cat and Ricardo Cervera as Puss-in-Boots" John Ross, 2008, England
"Alina Cojocaru in Diamonds" John Ross, 2007, England
"Odette-Sofiane Sylve, The Prince-Friedmann Vogel and Swans" John Ross, 2007, England
"Odette-Sofiane Sylve and Prince Sigfried-Friedmann Vogel" John Ross, 2007, England

Exisiting Critique

"Four Dancers"

This painting is brilliant in its composition, color, perspective. The four dancers are slowly backing out of the picture. Degas's positioning of figures, in the bottom left corner, creates a strong sense of movement in the painting. The background diminishes through perspective techniques. The unbalanced arrangement of subjects is balanced by the repetition of vibrant colors. The warm tomes in the women's costumes reappear in the background of the opposite corner. This image is typical in Degas's reoccurring theme: that "the stage is at all times artificially lit and our distance from it makes the colors become both loud and blurred, creating an impression of distance and glamorous dazzle." Degas doesn't give personality or expression to the faces of the dancers. To him, they are only and image prancing on the stage, they are their to entertain. He outlines the form and beauty of the dancers of the Paris Opera House. Because of that, the freedom of his brushwork is not tied down by detail, but he expresses only the glamour at the ballet.

Thursday, May 15, 2008

Critique 3

"The Ballet Class" was one of Edgar Degas' earlier ballet paintings. It depicts an ordinary ballet class; however, there are some elements which seem out of place for a regular class. This oil on canvas was created in 1881 and now hangs in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York.
Degas' "The Ballet Class" illustrates a ballet class, apparently, somewhat not according to regular etiquette. There are three girls in the upper left corner who are dancing in juxtaposition. Two seem to be watching the third, which seems somewhat disoriented. There is a man who seems to be the teacher watching the three girls. There is another grouping of dancers off to the right, standing behind the teacher. They are standing, stretching, and not completely paying attention to their surroundings. There is also an old woman who is reading a newspaper, closest to the viewer. The positioning of the characters in the composition is proportional throughout and creates a balance. There is a sharp contrast between the dancers and the woman and teacher because of their colors. The dancers are in light shades, while the others are in much darker values. The light source appears to be natural and coming from the lower right corner because it casts shadows to the upper left of all of the figures. The color scheme of the composition seems to be shades and values of yellows and browns. Mostly earth tones are used in addition to these colors. The perspective of the composition is from the side of the class, viewing the entire studio. The focal point appears to be the seems to be the old woman who is reading the newspaper, most likely because her whole figure is shown and her attire contrasts the brightness of the rest of the composition.
This composition depicts a class, during center, but some elements do not seem right. For example, why is there a woman reading a newspaper? Why isn't she watching the class? Who is she? Also, some of the dancers pose questions that are not answered. For instance, why does one girl have her hair down? The girl that is currently dancing seems as if she is off balance or going to fall, is she? "The Ballet Class" uses sharp contrasts between colors, the curiosity of the viewer, and the dancers' disobedient characteristics to attract the eye.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Narrative 3

It’s a day before the show. Actually, 25 hours, 37 minutes. Trust me, I’ve counted. My first opening evening performance of Romeo & Juliet. The thick crimson curtain rises at 8:21 sharp, on the dot. Rises to ten thousand microscopic faces staring down upon me, beating down on me, watching my every move. I have to admit, I am more nervous than I have ever been in my life. This even beats out the time I auditioned for my favorite company, my dream company, Bolshoi. Legs shaking, nerve stricken face, sweating palms, and this is worse. I’ll have to admit, standing here, looking out into the enormous house that will look back at me tomorrow night, it’s kind of relieving. The shadowy, muggy darkness and almost eerie silence calms me. I run through my intricate steps during the Party Scene of the first act for the last time in my raggedy tattered dress and my sweater made from old ripped tights. The difficult steps frustrate me to no end. I can’t get the timing right; I could never get the timing right. A wetness streams down my face as I fall apart in front of those thousands of seats all gawking at me. I wipe this wetness away from my eyes and off of my already dewy face. Why can’t I get it right? Now with only 24 hours, 56 minutes and decreasing. Rapidly.
My long, delicate legs bring me to the front of the raked stage as I once again look out into the house. It’s so huge. I don’t remember it being so big. I must become accustomed to it. I run through ever part, every phrase, every second of it in my head. My emotion, my steps, what I should be feeling, what I want to say to people. My legs are about to give in for some unknown reason, so I sit on the rough marley that covers the stage. It’s cold and slick, yet sticky with rosin. I continue running through the steps, but with my arms this time. They seem frail and small, but for tomorrow they need to be big and projected. Right now it feels like everything is going wrong and nothing is going how I want it to. Nothing works, my arms ache, my legs weaken, my back wants to give into the weight of my body, my head is racing, and I don’t know what to do.
Now 22 hours, 17 minutes, and I don’t think I will be ready. Every doubt I have ever had, every insecurity comes into play in my mind. Why now? Why me? I don’t think I can do this. I really don’t. My director walks in. I can tell. The sudden stench of tobacco, scotch, and cologne fill the stage. I don’t mind it but I know it means one thing. “Go home. Get some rest. You must be ready for tomorrow night.” But I can’t. I begin to cry. This time more tears flow and they come more rapidly. He keeps repeating, “Do not cry. You mustn’t. There is nothing to worry about. You will be perfect. Trust me.” I know I want to but I still can’t bring myself to believe that.
I arrive at my apartment; comfort and warmth overwhelm me once I walk in. I don’t have the strength to continue doing anything so I surrender to my welcoming bed. 7 hours, 53 minutes. Time is ticking. Class flies by with the blink of an eye, and I feel like I’m trapped in a bubble. I work as hard as humanly possible to prepare for tonight. We run through the pas de deux’s once more before heading to the theatre. Surprisingly, everything goes according to plan. In the blink of an eye its 5:59. 2 hours 2 minutes. I warm up one more time, already in my pastel yellow, silk and chiffon Juliet dress. I clutch the rusting iron bars in the wings carefully doing plies and tendus. I take a deep breath then let it out. I'm ready. 43 minutes.

~
I take my place on stage and the curtain rises to those ten thousand faces I was fearing. But now it seems like instead of gawking in disgust and criticisms, they are staring in awe. It feels good. Now I know what I have been waiting for my whole life. It makes sense. I don't want it to end. I'm fearing the end.

Monday, April 14, 2008

Community Project

For my community portion, I was thinking that I might ask people at my dance studio why they like ballet in particular. I would ask them why they started ballet and what keeps them going. I would ask our students of all ages in order to be able to compare young dancers to older ones.
I also might create a "workshop" for my friends. We could take a class taught by myself, then I could teach them a variation that I personally like. I think that would be a fun way to incorperate our community into ballet.

Sunday, April 6, 2008

Narrative 2

Hours of classes. Hours of rehearsals. Buckets of tears. Buckets of sweat. Blistered toes. Bloody feet. Hurting feet. Strained muscles. Shaking legs. Weak arms. Desire to give up. Desire to continue.
Pain, sweat, tears, blood, all leading up to three hours of showing people. Showing everyone what I love, what I dedicate my life to. I strive to make an impression after countless hours of working until I could not possibly work anymore. Until my muscles give in and my toes can not take anymore. I kill myself everyday and wake up the next to kill myself again. I perfect my art for an unmeasurable amount of time in preparation for what? An evening performance of The Sleeping Beauty, Chroma, Don Quixote, Romeo & Juliet, or Giselle. As a corps danseuse, a soloist, or a principle. Three hours that make me feel like I'm on the top of the world. Like I could do anything.
My life is dedicated to what I love. If I didn't love it, I wouldn't do it. Wake up every morning, and each day is the same. Go to class, then rehearsal. Evening performance. Sleep, start over. We're lucky to get a vacation after a tour. Two weeks at most, of course, never more. But it is worth it. To feel that important. To feel that beautiful. To feel immortal. To feel young. To feel like someone other than yourself. To feel in love.
The characters I play, each so simple, yet so complex. One is a young girl in love, a forbidden love that is never to be. Another, a fireball on her wedding day. And yet another, a sweet peasant who dies of a falsely broken heart. Eager to show all their dimensions, all their characteristics, every last detail of their being, without speaking a single word. Portraying the most difficult people for an audience of critics who will nitpick my simplest mistakes. Their applause, their "bravo!"'s, their flowers, their curtain calls. I rely on them to better myself.
It is a treasure I hold deep in my heart. Taking my last bow for an audience cheering my name. Screaming for more. It feels amazing how one small girl, barely clearing five feet, from a small town can change so many lives. Make so many heads turn. Be an inspiration for so many people in only a short, sweet, simple time. It will never cease to amaze me, as long as I live. As long as I perform. As long as I dance. As long as I love. It is BALLET. My only life, my only love.

Monday, March 10, 2008

Ballet...Declaration

Ballet is one of the most misconceived art forms that exists today’s world. Many think it is just another one of those types of dance where one would just prance around and try to look pretty. No one can really understand the hard work, dedication, long hours, and pain that goes into this art form to make it look so easy. As a student of ballet, I have experienced and seen the blood, sweat, and tears that goes into ballet.

When I was presented with the opportunity to expose others to my world of ballet in the form of a concept-folio, I knew I had to take the chance. It has proved to be more difficult than I had anticipated, but it poses as a good challenge. I enjoy the chance to write about ballet and find beautiful pictures of ballerinas and every aspect of ballet. It is my love and my life and I would not change that for the world. I want to use this concept-folio as a way to show everyone how much I love ballet and how much work goes into my art form to make it look beautiful.

Tuesday, March 4, 2008

More Pictures...























































Narrative

“No! You’re doing it all wrong; I don’t know why I chose you for this part. Again, from the top, and please try not to look like a dying cat.”
There was no end to my constant torture. I came to the studio everyday, day after day, to do the same barre, same center adage, same variation, and same ballet. Nothing changed. And everyday of my continuous torment, I was yelled at, screamed at, at the top of his lungs, bellowing so loudly that my eardrums hurt. It seemed like he was never satisfied by what I did, no matter how hard I tried. I put my soul into each rehearsal, but it was never enough. He was never through with me until he made me cry so much that I could never shed another tear even if my life depended on it, until tomorrow.
Once he let me leave, I ran out of the studio, and up the stairs. My aching feet, blistered heels, and bleeding toes crammed into tiny shoes carried me up them, and my wretched strait jacket stopped my breathing. I stood, clutching the building, thinking about what had occurred after yet another seven hours of suffering. I gathered myself and asked myself, “Why do you put yourself through this everyday?” I answered in a heartbeat. “Because I love it.” Everyday I woke up to put myself through another nightmare, but for some reason, even though I have the freedom to leave, I kept coming back to repeat this wretched dream. Hanging onto the building, looking down at the small city, dressed in the shoes and pannier that make me a goddess, I felt like it is alright. Everything in the world made sense on top of that building. My hopes, dreams, and wishes all became clear as I stared down at the rushing city beneath my feet. I regained the courage that I never thought I would have; enough to build confidence and return to my studio.
As I walked back through the heavy, gray double doors to the academy, I no longer felt the weight on my shoulders that I usually felt. Everything looked lighter, more vivid and colorful. When I walked into the studio, the other girls whispered and pointed and laughed, but I tried hard to ignore it. “Has the crybaby decided to grow up yet?” He’d ask, just like every other day. Instead of turning around and leaving once again, I nodded. He acknowledged my courage and demanded the pianist to begin his accompaniment. I danced the steps, performed them to death, used every inch of my body to express myself, using every drop of my energy. I felt lighter, like I had lifted some weight off of myself: no guilt, no sadness, no pain, no anything. Just a sole feeling of accomplishment, like I had done something, and now my life was complete. When the music ended and I dancing ceased, he stared at me for a while, long and hard, like he was trying to see through me or see what was inside of me. After what felt like centuries, he finally said, “Good. We will continue tomorrow.” I could have sworn I saw him smile at me with a twinkle in his eye.

Monday, February 25, 2008

Critique 2

“Ballet Rehearsal” was easily one of Edgar Degas’ best compositions. It is a portrayal of a ballet rehearsal; however, things seem somewhat uneventful because a crowd of dancers is formed around the girls dancing. This gouache and pastel on canvas was created in 1875 is known as one of his more famous compositions of ballet. Ballet Rehearsal now resides in the George G. Frelinghuysen Collection in New York.
Degas’ composition “Ballet Rehearsal” depicts a ballet rehearsal that seems to be rather dull. One may interpret this composition as a boring rehearsal because many people are crowded around the dancers who are rehearsing. The field of the composition is set in various values of green, and on the right, has a mixture of greens and yellows. As the field of the composition progresses to the left, the shade of green becomes darker. On the bottom left, there is a group of dancers with a man all gathered in juxtaposition. The dancers are emphasized by their tutu’s lighter color, which sets them apart from the field and the other characters. There is one dancer who is bending over, but her backside is facing the viewer. For some reason her tutu seems to attract the eye, possibly because it is highlighted with lighter shades. The crowd of dancers who are gathered seem like they are not paying attention to what is happening. There is a man standing off to the right side; however, only half of him is seen in the composition. Another man who is in the middle of the crowd of dancers is dressed in only values of brown with his shirt as a bright red color, which is different from the image’s color scheme. The focal point is the ballerina who is shown rehearsing. Most of the other characters are looking in her direction, which attracts the viewer’s eyes to her. The perspective of this composition is closer than a seat from the audience, so it seems to have been from the perspective of someone who was onstage. Degas’ use of different values of green and his contrast of the dancers and men are elements that make his composition effective. This composition shows a normal rehearsal that depicts other dancers as bored, so they would watch the rehearsal, or rude, in which they act as a distraction to those who are attempting to rehearse. Also, although this is a detailed composition, it leaves many questions that were not answered. For example, is it that the girls are bored, or could they be rude to those dancing? In addition, why is there half of a man seen on the right side of the composition? Is he of importance to the rehearsal, or is he just there as a bystander? Also, why is it that the dancers are not paying attention? Degas’ “Ballet Rehearsal” uses his talent in drawing ballerinas mixed with rebellious mannerisms of young dancers to create an attractive composition.





Wednesday, February 6, 2008

Critique

“The Rehearsal” can be seen as Edgar Degas’ best work. It portrays an adage in a regular ballet class. Painted sometime around 1873 to 1878, the oil on canvas composition is one of Degas’ famous ballet paintings. He is categorized as an impressionist painter who concentrated on the general impression produced by a scene and the use of unmixed primary colors and small strokes to stimulate actual reflected light. The composition “The Rehearsal” is now situated at the Fogg Art Museum in Harvard University in Cambridge, Massachusetts.
Degas’ composition depicts a typical ballet adage in the center. It is only painted in earth tones, which sets a relaxing state, and there is a definite contrast between the dancers, who are in white, and the violinist, who is in black. As in impressionist works, natural lighting is used, most emphasized from the light emanating from the large windows. Inside of the studio, it is somewhat dark, while outside, it is bright, which could suggest a darker side to the art of ballet, such as working so hard to the point of uncomfortable pain. The painting is from the perspective of a corner of the studio, and all of the dancers seem to be spaced to the left of the composition. The dancers are placed in juxtaposition even though there is extra space in the studio. The focal point of Degas’ composition is the dancer who is closest to the viewer. Her form appears to be the clearest and the viewer is only able to see her face. She also has the darkest shadow and the lightest pigment of pink shoes and tights. Furthermore, the colors of the ribbons, flowers, and bows of the dancers create harmony from their pleasing combination of colors. Degas’ attractive color scheme, use of natural lighting, and contrast compose an effective piece; however, the blurriness of it makes it weaker.
Nevertheless, Edgar Degas’ “The Rehearsal” still leaves many unanswered questions. Firstly, one would wonder why the concentration of the picture is focused to the left of the composition. Perhaps this is because the eye is more attracted towards the left. Maybe it is because Degas wanted to emphasize the natural lighting from the large window. Also, one would question why there is no instructor present in the picture. Perhaps this is because the dancers were unattended which would also explain why some dancers are not paying attention, or the instructor was out of the painter’s view. Lastly, one may ask why the studio is so dark. Is Degas aiming to imply something by doing so, or is he only attempting to accentuate the natural lighting. Degas’ work utilizes the impressionist’s skill in order to portray a life like adagio using natural lighting.




Monday, February 4, 2008

Concept

For my concept-folio, I was thinking of doing Ballet.