Edward Villella on preparing for Prodigal Son

It was also important for me to check the stage, especially the areas where I had to move on a diagonal or cross from one end to the other. Because there are such abrupt movements in the ballet, I really had to have a very secure sense of the floor. During a performance the stage can become a slick. I didn't want to push off and have my foot slip and slide and twist in the opposite direction.

By now "Places, please" was being called, but a part of me would still resist. There was always one more thing I wanted to do. Making a last-minute check of the stage, I'd remove the towel and the robe, but not my leg warmers. I'd wear them until about twenty seconds to curtain. By then I'd be in my place onstage behind the tent waiting to make my entrance. I tried to get the time I stood behind the tent down to a matter of seconds. But in those remaining seconds I'd eliminate everything but the performance from my mind. I'd be scheming, calculating, preparing all day for this moment, and now I'd narrow my concentration into a simple straight line focused solely on my physicality. I'd feel very alone and revel in the solitude. It wasn't a meditative or spiritual moment; it was just that I could stand there and, no matter who was around me, feel calm. I'd wait for the curtain to rise and the music to start, and I'd burst out onstage. Sometimes I had to go into overdrive and call on an extra reserve of energy to propel the performance because I was fatigued mentally and physically, or because I'd be dancing through a sprained ankle, a bruised toe, an intense backache, a stiff neck, or an inflamed elbow. But usually I had energy to spare now no matter how tired I was.

I love leaping into the air while simultaneously exerting the most precise control possible over my body. Onstage I get an exhilarating sense of abandon and freedom when I move. The sensation of piercing the air, of the air passing my ears as I jump, always thrills me. And I love the fact that the audience is watching me. Stepping out onstage, I would feel more alive than I had during the entire day. This is how it was.

Prodigal Son: Dancing for Balanchine in a World of Pain and Magic by Edward Villella. 1992. Page 201-2.