For over three years I worked--struggled--to become a good partner. In the beginning, I thought about it all the time. I tried every tactic possible to improve. And when I began to show progress and felt that I had mastered the basics, I concentrated on the subtleties and began to attend to those. One day I just stopped thinking about it, stopped trying so hard, and because I was thinking about it less often, my fears about it began to diminish. I became comfortable. I was able to place my ballerina on pointe in an arabesque at arm's length with one hand during a performance and feel relaxed. One evening after a performance I said to myself, well, you got through that ballet without thinking about it. You weren't terrified. It just came together. And then I realized, I know how to partner! It was remarkable. I never thought it would happen. This problem that had plagued me for over three years now seemed like my best friend. I suddenly loved it.
. . . .
Some dancers don't like partnering, don't like performing a service to the ballerina. But I grew to like being a cavalier. Looking after a woman onstage, projecting the sense of caring, of giving something to a woman, is a wonderful, masculine feeling, and it became one of the great sensations of my life.
Prodigal Son: Dancing for Balanchine in a World of Pain and Magic by Edward Villella. 1992. Page 70, 71.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
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