Boston Ballet's Night At the Hatch Shell

It was the last evening in August, and as the sun set behind the Hatch Shell in Boston, the air began to feel crisp with the sounds of Tchaikovsky's "Waltz of the Snowflakes" emanating from the stage. Yes, The Nutcracker was being played in August.

This is not so off, though, if you think about it. Today is September 1st, and Boston Ballet begins their Nutcracker season immediately after Thanksgiving, which is only 3 months off. However, my experience with this concert was not about the Nutcracker. It was about a first.

I was fortunate enough to witness and be a part of the audience of the first performance of the Boston Ballet outside at the Hatch Shell with a live orchestra (Boston's Landmark Orchestra). The orchestra performed works by Tchaikovsky and for certain pieces, Boston Ballet's principle dancers performed pas de deuxs, pas de trois, and pas de quatres across a stage that was built specifically for the event. Between pieces, the conductor gave tid bits about Tchaikovsky and the music, and even about the collaborations of the choreographers. It was a first for Boston, and I feel so special to have been able to have been a part.

I was amazed when I walked over the bridge at half an hour to the start, and 3/4 of the lawn was filled with people that had already staked their claims to grassy areas. People had blankets and food and drinks. It was incredible. I was unfortunately pretty far back, so I had to re-position myself constantly to get a good view, but it was absolutely worth it. The dancing by Boston Ballet was absolutely sublime. It wasn't perfect, and that's the teacher in me judging, but to have had the limited rehearsal time, and to have only met that stage earlier in the day, the performers were incredible. From the gorgeous port de bras of the ballerina who performed the Swan Lake pas de deux to the flexibility of the arabian dancer from The Nutcracker to the quirky character movements of the Puss N Boots dancers from Sleeping Beauty- all were phenomenal.

It was also lovely to be able to see the orchestra. At the ballet, more often than not, the orchestra is hidden from view since the dancing is the star. It was a nice change to watch as the string sections' bows bobbed and weaved furiously, and the brass section stayed stoically steadfast as they blasted their way through the finale of Swan Lake. I always love seeing the conductors as well. The passion of a conductor always comes out in front of an audience, and the orchestra's performance is always a tribute to his skills. In this case, Jonathan McPhee (who was actually a guest conductor of the Boston Landmarks Orchestra, and is Boston Ballet's Music Director and Principal Conductor) has mad skills.

As the music filtered out into the night air, I couldn't help but feel particularly content. It was the perfect Boston night with cool air, a divine orchestra, and a world-class ballet company. As a dancer, and a dance teacher, you can't ask for anything better. To be part of a first like that is something that I will never forget. I can only hope that they continue these concerts. The turn out was incredible, and it's a great way to expose people to a less commercial side of dance. It's a way, at least, for us girls to feel a little bit of sophistication in our daily lives.

Last night made me very excited for the Boston Ballet's upcoming season. I can't wait to get my tickets to the upcoming performances!

Museum Inspiration

When I was in college, some of my favorite classes were my composition courses. It wasn’t just for the ability to explore new movements, but for finding ways to be inspired to create those new movements. One of my most memorable projects was creating a piece junior year by going to the Hartford Atheneum, picking out my favorite piece of artwork, and basing a 3 minute dance off of that. In a more conservative college setting, I was the girl who picked the Andy Warhol painting, chose Trans-Siberian Orchestra music, and choreographed a piece about views on death. It wound up being one of the most debated pieces that year. I loved that, because essentially as adult choreographers, isn’t that what we strive to do?

However, the point is not that I created a debatable piece, but that I found inspiration in a painting that very few thought even counted as a painting.

I love museums in general. I could probably go every week to museums and spend entire days in there and never get bored. Last week, I dragged my poor boyfriend through 2 of our favorite museums in the course of one day. He likes museums, too, but he also works in one, so the guy gets tired of them real quick. I’m very lucky to be able to live in an area where I have a museum down the street from me, and multiple museums only a half hour away in Boston. It gives me the opportunity to go whenever I feel the desire.

It’s amazing to me to be able to find certain rooms or artworks where I can sit in a gallery and just stare for hours, and feel completely immersed in its purpose. For example, when I went to the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, they had a gallery in the Art of the Americas wing based on George Washington. There was a MASSIVE (and by massive, I mean it took up a whole wall) painting of George Washington on a hill looking out over a battle. I don’t remember the name of the painting, or who painted it, but I stepped back from it, and just stared at it. I studied the expressions on the faces, and noticed the anguish on the soldiers’ faces. I began to wonder what George Washington was thinking at that moment, and how heavy his decisions must be weighing on his mind. I wondered if he was thinking about the well-being of his soldiers, or if he wasn’t thinking, and just soaking in the scene in the few seconds before charging into battle. For a moment, I could feel myself there in the excitement, sadness, glory, and anguish of a war.

When something like that happens, that begins my thought process for movement. In this particular artwork, I did not think of movement, since only 2 years ago I created a piece called “Battle Faces” and the feelings and emotions were the same evoked from the painting. However, there were plenty of other exhibits that sparked interest. From paintings of children sitting and/or playing in fields to the stoic reverence of the imitation of a Buddhist temple, I felt as though I could’ve plucked any of those ideas out of the museum and choreographed them for a stage. I became immersed in the universes of these moments captured by artists.

I love how my composition courses taught me to find inspiration in anything. The purpose of dance has evolved over centuries, but it has remained as an outlet of expression. Expression is something that we all experience on a moment by moment basis, so it is largely relatable. It also gives choreographers the accessibility to create anything from anything. Inspiration can come in the form of sitting in a museum, or it can come from watching a person walk down the street. Personally, I found inspiration in certain paintings at the museum. Some ideas I’ll spare my students from. Others, I can’t wait to get to work on!

Thanks to the Museum of Fine Arts Boston for the lovely experience!

Woman In the Mirror

Every dancer I’ve ever known has had a love-hate relationship with the mirror. On the positive, it serves as a great tool for students to fix corrections both in a singular manner, and as a group. On the negative it can provide a major distraction to adults and children alike. Older students tend to scrutinize their image, while the little kids tend to play with their hair or their leotards. How many of us, though, have had to come face to face with ourselves in the mirror as part of a combination?

I have.

In my previous blog, I described a improvisation class that involved learning a sequence of steps without music or counts. We were asked to use the emotion in the music to drive us. Part of what I did not describe for sake of space was having to run to separate walls in the room, then walking to the mirror and staring straight at ourselves. What I never imagined was what that would do to me.

When I danced, I was allowing a year’s worth of bad luck, bad situations, frustrations, and unpurged feelings to seep out into my movements. A lot of that, admittedly, also involved a situation dealing with a lack of self-esteem and confidence. After the teacher told us to trust ourselves and push our limits, it really hit home. Not just a realization, but a true hit-me-in-the-gut, pulled-at-my-heartstrings kind of feeling. To go from that on the dance floor, to suddenly facing it in the mirror brought tears to my eyes.

At first glance at myself in the mirror, I remember being taken aback by my face. It was contorted. My brows were furrowed, I was frowning, and my jaw was taught. It looked like I was about to cry. Granted, I felt like I was, but I couldn’t believe that my face was so telling. The next thing I noticed was that my breathing was labored. It wasn’t from physically being out of breath, but rather from the exertion of emotional energy. My final observation was my eyes. I previously mentioned in a blog about how the eyes are the gateway to the soul. My eyes showed so much pain and sadness, and that upset me. Maybe I was more troubled by these parts of my life than I had thought.

I didn’t realize it until the second time, until I really looked at my eyes again that the pain and sadness was being pushed out by confidence and hope. Yes, I was experiencing at that moment some lingering aspects of my life that had been less than satisfactory, but I was also experiencing the release of it to the point where I knew I would be able to move on. At that point, it allowed me to push myself even more, so in the final moments of class, I was able to shove the emotions OUT of my body and into the world.

To deal with that release after a year is almost like dealing with a loss of sorts. It’s no longer with you, therefore, a part of you that you have become accustomed to is not there. After that improvisation class, I was taking a ballet class. My emotions were still heavy until the second barre exercise. It was so hard to dig so deep, and then just let it go. By the end of the day, I was feeling fabulous again, and even better than before. That intense experience expelled all the bad in my life, and actually kept me on a natural high for at least a week after.

I just couldn’t believe how having to face oneself in a mirror could affect a person’s being so much. Not only did I emote out on the dance floor, but I was able to face those emotions head on, in quite a literal sense. The harmony between that dance and the mirror coincided perfectly. As Martha Graham said “Dance is the hidden language of the soul of the body” and the act of the mirror exemplified this.

My natural high may have worn off now, but the class, and the teacher, will be held in my memories and my heart forever.

Emotional Vs. Technical

Okay, confession time- I’m terrible about taking class. I know that it could help my career as a teacher, and can only benefit me as a dancer as well, but I’m really awful. Between my never-ending schedule of two main jobs, and always picking up little things when the opportunities arise, and my budget of trying to save, and my overall laziness without the luxury of a car, I tend to slack in that area. When the opportunity arose for me to take a few classes in the past two weeks through the studio I teach at, I jumped at it.

There are three classes that stood out in my mind- two of which are the topic of today’s blog. I happened to take two classes from two different guest teachers that were supposed to be similar in structure, but turned out completely different for me.

Both classes were improvisation based. They both started out similar- feeling the space in the room, and moving around in it in order to get a sense of where you were and how to use the space around you. Both teachers asked us to move in the space. There were two big differences between their approaches. In the first class, our eyes were open, and we were asked to move as different creatures about the room. The teacher would say “Now move as if you were a turtle!” So I moved as a turtle would- I balled myself up on the floor and took slow-motion steps. In the second class, we were asked to close our eyes, and feel where we were heading. We were asked to trust ourselves, and if we bumped into someone, we were to improv with them, moving and flowing with their bodies (at this point, I managed to hook someone’s neck in my arm. To that person- I apologize for partially choking you!).

The second half of both classes differed greatly. In the first one, we continued with a structured improv. We were broken into groups and asked to perform certain things- such as pausing for 5 seconds- while improving to and from the mirror. I loved this exercise. It worked for me because as a control freak, and a ballet teacher, I was able to freely move within the restrictions of rules. As I danced, I remember thinking about what I had to do. I remember thinking about how I had to move and thinking about what I had done after. I remember thinking about the technical aspects of the improvisation.

The second class worked much differently. We were taught a series of movements. It was not to counts or music. It was just steps that we learned in sequence. The teacher put on music (Adele! LOVE!) and told us that we could start whenever we wanted, moved however we wanted, and could improv with others if we were to come in contact. The teacher even came around and initiated contact and movement within specific dancers. What I remember the most from this class was the emotion that we were asked to feel. As dancers, we were asked to listen to the music’s message- being hurt by someone, but finding someone better. A year’s worth of my emotions, frustrations, and aggravations came out onto the dance floor. Heck, I almost cried (but I will talk about that specific experience in another blog). It was so powerful that it took me until the second barre exercise in ballet class afterwards to come out of that place.

Both of these classes were incredible, but it made me think about the aspects of emotional dancing versus technical dancing. Obviously technique is the basis for all dance. Otherwise, we’re just flopping around out on a stage. When we think as technical dancers, we think of the lines, the posture, the pointed toes, etc that we’re supposed to be doing. We think in a linear manner. “I must get from Point A to point B.” Our bodies and brains work in sync to create perfect positions and do what is asked of us. In the first teacher’s class, this is how I thought. I thought about how my body was moving and what it was doing for the specific exercise. I could probably tell you half of the moves I did, because even though I was letting my body drive me, my brain was still thinking about the movements.

Emotional dancing is very different. In emotional dancing, typically dancers do not think about the technical aspect of the dancing. Instead of “my body is contracting in a deep Graham position”, we as emotional dancers think “my body is contracting because I can feel it’s supposed to in my gut.” While I can remember some of the steps that were in the sequence of movement that we learned, I can tell you that I do not remember a lot of what I did when I improved. What I do remember is the feeling of release of pain that I had been harboring for over a year. Points A and B- don’t remember them. All I know is that the mood of the music took over my body , and I felt free to move.

I find it so intriguing that both classes had such similar ideas, but left the dancers with such different experiences. While both were improvisation based and designed to pull the students out of their comfort zones, one left me thinking and the other left me feeling. In the first class, I remember feeling pretty good and comfortable about the exercises. In the second class, it took me a while to warm up to the exercises. I enjoyed the first class, but the second left me with a lasting impression. Perhaps that is why I enjoyed the second one so much- I achieved a place of conquering that which did not feel comfortable. I overcame that sense of awkwardness and fell into my own skin.

This is the advantage of students being able to take from different teachers- they get more than one side of a particular genre. They are allowed to experience more than one way of teaching, which aides them later in life as to what they particularly enjoy most. This in turn helps them to decide which path they will prefer to take in the world of dance, if they so choose to pursue dance.

It also helps the teacher, like me, that gets caught up in life and doesn’t take class. To these teachers that I took from in the past couple of weeks- I thank you. You were inspirational, thought-provoking, and simply wonderful!

Eye Contact

When I was a freshman in high school, I was given the great honor of being asked to perform a solo in competitions. It was our first year competing seriously, and I got to do a sad lyrical piece. I got out on that stage and danced my little heart out. I was inexperienced and just starting out as a competitor, but it was wonderful.

Fast forward to when I received the critique tapes. I listened carefully and took into consideration every comment. Then there came one comment that threw me for a loop- “Dancer is not making eye contact. It shows a lack of confidence. You should really look at the judges.”

I turned to my mom at that point- “I was looking at them! I just couldn’t see them!” (I should probably mention here that I have been wearing glasses since the sixth grade, but always danced without them until I discovered contacts in college).

At that point in my dance career, it amazed me that eye contact could mean so much. Now, as a teacher, and a choreographer, I couldn’t imagine teaching without telling my students where their focus is and when to make eye contact.

A dancer’s focus within a piece is always a specific within the choreography. Sometimes we may look down in a moment to convey shyness. Sometimes we may contract our bodies but look up to convey pleading. Sometimes we may look directly forward and confront our audience. All of these different focuses have very different meanings, and must be carried out correctly.

Eye contact draws an audience in. It shows that a dancer is not just dancing in a room by themselves, or dancing for no reason. Eye contact invites an audience to see the dancer. It beckons them to immerse themselves in the dance’s purpose. It brings them into the world that the dancer is creating. Without eye contact, it can come across as aloof, or selfish, or in my case, a lack of confidence. It acknowledges the audience. It allows them to know that you know they’re there.

A lack of eye contact can also be frustrating because it takes away a sense of purpose in the movement. Say you are in a race. Your purpose is to cross the finish line ahead of others. If you are neck and neck with someone within the last few yards of that race you don’t start looking around at the crowd or the scenery, do you? You see the finish line, and you look straight towards it until you have finished. Your eyes don’t move. While a dance movement is not a race, it runs along the same principle. Your goal is to finish the movement. If you’re looking around, and not where you’re going, you lose your audience’s attention on the move. Not to mention you could completely botch the step. Thusly, eye contact not only gives purpose to the movement, but also to the dancer.

Herman Melville is quoted as saying “The eyes are the gateway to the soul.” As dancers, we are driven by our souls to perform what we have been given; to give life to the dance and present it to the audience. If our audiences cannot see our eyes, how do we expect them to see our souls? We need to open them as wide as we open our arms and allow the audience to soak in what we as dancers are graciously giving them. It cannot happen if we are looking at the floor when we dance (one of my pet peeves as a dance teacher) or looking around with wandering eyes.

You Say Tomato: Thoughts On Sibling Rivalry

*My sister and I summer of 2010. Kinda explains it all.



Dance is a world full of competition. Whether you are competing for prime roles in major ballets, competing for the front spot in your dance team, or just competing with yourself to get your battements higher, there is always that sense of trying to beat someone out. That competition only gets harder when you are competing with…a sibling.

Growing up, I had a lot of friends with siblings, and they always seemed to be opposites of each other. One was quiet, while one was loud. One was into sports, the other art. One was popular, one was not. This stereotype even held true to me and my own sister. While I was the studious good girl who was involved in church groups and couldn’t care less about my poofy frizzy hair, my sister was the primped up popular kid who spent her nights partying and her days sleeping through school. Somehow, with these opposite personalities, we both found our niche in dance.

Not too long ago, I read the autobiography of Fred Astaire “Steps in Time” that had been originally published in 1959. While knowing of Fred Astaire, and falling in love with his many movies co-starring with Ginger Rogers, I was surprised to learn of his sister Adele. I was also surprised to learn that she had been a famous dancer, as well. The only difference was that Adele had been more of a vaudeville star, while Fred had stepped into the movie business.

Mr. Astaire spoke adoringly of his sister. She was the older of the two, and yet while there were many small jokes and digs at Adele, Fred always managed to speak of her respectfully, as if she had been the movie star. Fred contributed much of his early success in the vaudeville circuit to his sister, but one has to wonder- how much sibling rivalry was there? Particularly in the 50’s, it was not looked upon favorably to speak ill of one’s family, so it makes me wonder how many spats they actually had.

I even see it among my own students. As a dance teacher, you get to see many dancers grow, and you also get to see their younger siblings come in and get excited about following in their big sister or brother’s shoes. When they finally start dancing in the same circuits, you also get to see them either get along famously, or fight like cats and dogs.

My sister and I were the students that fought like cats and dogs. Sis and I are five years apart, but even so, when the competitive teams formed my freshmen year of high school, there were only so many levels. While I was in one of the top teams, my sister was in one of the younger. I even helped assist one of her classes (with a very fond memory of being left alone with them one day and having to scream at her and her best friend… They were fondly nicknamed “Monster and Munchkin”). We did not often dance together, but in my sophomore year of high school, it was suggested we do a duo. I can remember many rehearsals where our mother brought us into the studio to practice, and my dearly patient mother yelling at us to practice the lift again so that my sister would put her foot in the right place and I wouldn’t purposely drop her on her head. We did win the Top Duo award at a summer competition that year, but my sister and I never did a duo. Ever again.

At only two other points do I remember us dancing together. In my senior year, we did an all-competitive team dance to “Because We Can” from Moulin Rouge, and in that same year, we needed a couple of fill-ins for when we went to Nationals, and my sister and 2 others filled in the spots. While I don’t specifically remember if there were any conflicts within these dances, I know we stuck to our own groups of friends, and tried not to admit too much that we were related.

Other than choreographing a jazz solo for her a couple of years later, my sister and I have not crossed paths dance-wise. She DID however, wind up at the same university as I did for a dance major. By the time she graduated this year, though, there were only a handful of teachers still there that even knew who I was.

Through all our experiences together, there was always a sense of sibling rivalry. The best way to describe it is that my sister and I, while both very good dancers, had very different styles, and very different backgrounds. While I didn’t get to start competing until I was 14, my sister was 9 when she started. She won titles, while I never came close. She was a style-ized dancer with an earlier, stricter training, and a bit of a crazy personality. I was the technical dancer who blossomed as she got older, and was very shy until I hit the stage. There have been times when I’ve admittedly been jealous of my sister, but I’m sure there have been times when my sister has envied what I’ve had (though my sister being who she is would NEVER admit that to anyone!).

I am now starting to find that my sister and I are beginning to cross paths again. While I am personally trying to reignite my dance/teaching career, my sister is just beginning hers with her recent graduation from the University of Hartford. We want to take similar dance classes, and that is leading her to auditions, which is leading her to ask me to come along. The only problem is- what happens when one of us gets the job, and the other does not?

Now, my sister and I would be able to handle it, but I’ve seen plenty of sibling duos that I don’t think would easily take that competition. I have seen younger siblings that idolize their older counterparts, but have gotten the parts that they wanted, and watched the foundations of their relationships crack. I think it’s the toughest in any performing arts. To dance is to love. You must have an undying passion for dance to make it as your career. When one’s passion is being compared against their closest DNA match, and often their friend, hearts can be broken. At the same time, that sibling bond can be your biggest boost, your biggest inspiration, and your biggest support system. To have someone so close to you understand that love, and what it means to “put it all out there” is a gift.

Personally, while I have had my bouts with my sister, she is my biggest inspiration. She is an innovative choreographer. I haven’t seen much of her as a dancer, but what I have seen- she is good. She pushes me to be better, and to be on top of my game. We don’t always get along, particularly with being in such different places in our lives, but I love the kid with all my heart.

I can only hope that other dancers with siblings can find that love and shared passion in their own lives. It has helped connect me and my sister (otherwise, our friendship may have been lost years ago), and can help others share a bond. I look forward to possible future endeavors with my sister, and I even hope that we continue with our minor sibling rivalry so that I never lose that desire to be better.

So to Fred Astaire who joked of his sister, but never lost his adoration of her- I tip my hat to you, sir, in full understanding.

The Great Choreo Capers

Last week, the warm weather started rolling in. Bright sunshine, temperatures in the 70’s, outdoor patios opening up and tops down on convertibles. The other sign of summer? The premier of So You Think You Can Dance!

However, with the opening night has already come a controversy. Brothers Deon and Damon were featured as being a quirky duo with charm up the wazoo. The judges were delighted by their humorous performance and their fun personalities. They were given tickets straight to Vegas, which anyone who watches the show knows is the main goal.

What the judges did not know is that their “choreography” was not so original. Many people after watching the first episode began to spread a video that put Deon and Damon against a duo only listed as “the Les Twins”. Side by side videos of both pairs were shown doing choreography that was almost identical in nature, besides a few tweaks here and there. At the end, the video publicly denounces Deon and Damon for “stealing” choreography, and asks that everyone spreads the images so that they can be kicked off the show.

This video has sparked a controversy not just within the public that knew the videos, but from So You Think You Can Dance’s own All-Stars. D-trix and Neill started debating over whether taking the choreography was right. D-trix claimed it was frowned upon in the hip hop world. Neill claimed that it was similar to ballet- the same choreography has been passed down from company to company over the years.

Personally, I can understand both sides of the argument. It’s not appropriate to put unoriginal choreography on tv. However, at the same time, they are not being judged on their choreography, but rather their dancing. I would say that maybe they explained it to the judges at some point, but Nigel Lythgoe, the executive producer and beloved judge, even posted on his twitter that he wished the brothers had told them the choreography was not their own. Perhaps it was not their intention to “rip off” choreography. They say that copying is the sincerest form of flattery, right? So wouldn’t this be the case?

But how do the Les Twins feel about this? The videos have been posted by others on their Facebook page. It is not mentioned whether or not they are actually aware of it (they are also French, so a lot of the page is in French!). Is it possible for them to sue Damon and Deon? Is it possible for them to sue the television network?

What bothers me most about this is that this will make it harder for the show So You Think You Can Dance. Instead of just pulling together reels of dancers and putting together audition segments, they will now most likely have to cross-reference all the choreography to make sure that it is original. But then that brings up another thought- many of these younger dancers are part of the competition scene. They are getting their solos from big name choreographers, and showing it throughout the competition circuit. Would that count as “unoriginal” choreography?

I do believe that while the viral video was good to make the public aware of what happened, it is not appropriate for them to get kicked off the show. They did get here based on their own merits. With not being judged on choreography, their personalities were their own, and their style was their own. While they may not have done it the right way, they still EARNED their way to Vegas (not to mention the couple rounds of improvisation that is required before any dancer even gets to show their solo!). If they are not on the show by the time it gets down to the wire in Vegas, then perhaps they will learn for next time. If they are there, then clearly they have proven that they are meant to be on that stage. With every mistake must come some understanding, even within the dance world.

I do not condone what the brothers did, nor am I backing the idea of kicking them off the show. My intention is merely to get everyone thinking. How right is it? Should So You Think You Can Dance make a formal apology? Should the Les Twins speak up about it? It’s interesting to contemplate, and I’m sure that everyone has their own opinion on it!