Ivan Nagy on partnering

By dancing with a galaxy of ballerinas, Nagy's own versatility and sensitivity are kept ever on the alert, for one Swan Queen is not like another. Partnering each ballerina is a wholly different task even if the role and probably the actual steps are the same. "Everyone hears music differently," says Ivan. "And each one phrases music completely different. I may hear a note on the violin and want to take a breath and make that the peak of the phrase, but someone else will hear another note. No two dancers are alike. It is absolutely unbelievable that the same piece of music sounds so different to each individual. Then, ballerinas can have not only different personal styles but different national styles. Margot is of the English school and she structures her performance on that style. Makarova will tell me that in Russia she held her arms here and I must place her there. And even if every step is exactly the same for two ballerinas, the way they do it is different and I must support each ballerina in her school, her personal style, and with her musical phrasing. Finally, everyone has a different body and each must think, 'What is best for me?' and so I must adapt to that. I must know from beginning to end of a ballet what they are going to do and what they expect of me. For each, I learn her way down to the last nuance and when I dance with others I mustn't forget which is which."

Great Male Dancers of the Ballet by Walter Terry. 1978. Page 146.

Hurok restores Lifar's reputation

I happen to know certain facts about Lifar's behavior during the Occupation of France, facts I did not know at the time of the publication of my earlier book, Impresario. Certain statements I made in that book concerning Serge Lifar were made on the basis of such information as I had at the time, which I believed was reliable. I have subsequently learned that it was not correct, and I have also subsequently had additional, quite different, and reliably documented information which makes me wish to acknowledge that an error of judgment was expressed on the basis of inconclusive evidence. Lifar may not have been a hero; very possibly, and quite probably, he may have been indiscreet; but it is now obvious to any fair-minded person that there has been a good deal of malicious gossip spread about him.

Lifar was restored to his post at the head of the Paris Opera Ballet by M. Georges Hirsch, Administrator, Director of the French National Lyric Theatres, himself a war-hero with a distinguished record. The dancers of the Paris Opera Ballet threatened to strike unless Lifar was so restored; the stage-hands, with definite indications of communist inspiration, to strike if he was. Hirsch had the courage of his convictions. I have found that Lifar did not take the Paris Opera Ballet to Berlin during the Occupation, as has been alleged in this country, although the Germans wanted it badly; and I happen to know numerous other French companies did go. I also have learned that it was Serge Lifar who prevented the Paris Opera Ballet from going. I happen to know that Lifar did fly in a German plane to Kieff, his birth-place; as I happen to know that he did not show Hitler through the Paris Opera itself, as one widely-spread rumor has had it. As a matter of fact, stories to the effect that he did both these things have been widely circulated. I happen to have learned that Lifar made a tremendous effort to save that splendid gentleman, Rene Blum, but was unable to prevail against Blum's patriotic but unfortunately stupid determination to remain in Paris. I also happen to know that Lifar was personally active in saving many Jews and also other liberals from deportation. Moreover, I know that, as has always been characteristic of Lifar, because he was one who had, he helped from his own pocket those who had not.

S. Hurok Presents: A Memoir of the Dance World by S. Hurok. 1953. Page 215-6.

Diaghilev

He did not paint, and with the exception of several (very talented) articles, he did not write; he had no interest either in architecture or sculpture; he had been completely disillusioned in his attempts at musical composition and he had dropped his singing. In other words Seriozha Diahilev did not practise in any sphere of art but nevertheless all his activities in these fields bore the stamp of a creative mind! I am convinced that notwithstanding all the work done by those representatives of Russian art (in literature, painting, music and the theatre) who took part in the exhibitions arranged by Mir Iskusstva; notwithstanding the work of those who later applied their talents to the enterprise which has now taken its place in history under the name of Les Spectacles Russes de Serge de Diaghilev; I am, I repeat, convinced that these ventures would never have taken shape had Diaghilev not take charge of them and been at their head. He brought his amazing energy to these many talents which themselves were lacking in only one thing - a creative will. It was only from the moment that this amazing man begun to want something that things began to happen, to take form and shape.

Memoirs [volume 2] by Alexandre Benois. 1964. Page 81.

Benois discovers Tchaikovsky

I attended neither the dress rehearsal nor the opening night and I saw The Sleeping Beauty for the first time only at its second or third performance. I remember that it was a matinee during the Christmas holidays which gave Dima Filosofov and me the opportunity of seeing it. I remember too that it was Dima who dragged me there as he had heard at home that the ballet was not so bad after all. I must admit that my first impression was, if not a revelation, nevertheless that of having attended a grandiose banquet. What I had seen and heard seemed to be 'worthy of attention'. With some of the music I had a kind of foretaste that it might be very much to my liking. I simply did not dare believe what was growing in the very depths of my heart. I very much wanted to see The Sleeping Beauty again as soon as possible and particularly to listen again to the music.

After this I did not miss a single performance and even managed to see it four times in the last week before Lent, when there were matinees as well as evening performances.

. . . .

This admiration for The Sleeping Beauty directed my interest, which had somewhat cooled, back to the ballet. It infected my friends, and we gradually became real ballet fans. So was created the main prerequisite for our joint activities several years later in a sphere which brought us world-wide success. It would hardly be an exaggeration to say that, had it not been for my enthusiasm for The Sleeping Beauty (and before that for Coppelia, Giselle and The Pharaoh's Daughter with Zucchi), and had I not infected my friends with it, there would have been no Ballets Russes and none of the balletomania which their success evoked.

Memoirs [volume 2] by Alexandre Benois. 1964. Pages 59-61.

Memory of Giselle

In the same year that I discovered Coppelia I also learnt to know Giselle. This ballet, which has lately become a favourite of the whole world, was pushed into the background at the time. It was shown very seldom and ballerinas tried to avoid appearing in the main part. I saw Giselle quite by accident at a matinee in 1885. The star part was danced by no great star but by a bony, clumsy, ugly and rather tall ballerina, who was however quite a good technician. The audience was not enthusiastic, the auditorium was half empty, and the performance was probably merely a manoeuvre to satisfy a respected but not attractive dancer. The decor was old and faded, the costumes haphazard. I wandered into the theatre alone, not out of curiosity but because of nothing better to do. The spectacle, however, proved to be one of great significance for me; in fact it so overwhelmed me that from that day I became a propagandist for Giselle. Later, in conversations with theatre managers, I insisted that it should be repeated, and when young Anna Pavlova appeared on the scene my dream was to see her in that part. At last I managed to persuade Diaghilev that the ballet should be included in the second season of our performances in Paris (with my decors and costumes) and with Pavlova. Actually it all happened quite differently. We did put on Giselle, but Pavlova, lured by a more favourable offer, refused to dance at the last moment and Karsavina took her place. However neither we nor the ballet suffered from this exchange. The success of Giselle with Karsavina was indisputable, and through this triumph this charming work of French romanticism, almost forgotten in its native land, became so fashionable that every famous ballerina became keen to include it in her repertoire.

Memoirs [volume 1] by Alexandre Benois. 1960. Pages140-141.

The Tale of a Manor

She told him that while he had been mad he had saved her life. He had aroused her from death, she continued, and protected her. But that was not enough for her; she wished for himself.

When she kissed him he felt that a healing balm was poured into his sick soul, but he had not yet dared to believe that it was love which impelled her. But her anger and her tears left him no room for doubt. He was loved, poor monster.

. . . .

Ingrid had remained silent. She was weary after a heavy task, but she was also quiet as one who had carried it out in the best way. She knew that she had victory in her hands.

Hede at last broke silence. "I promise you that I will endure," he said.

"Thank you," she replied.

Nothing more was said just then.

Hede felt he could not tell her how he loved her. It could not be said in words, but had to be shown every day and every hour as long as life lasted.

The Tale of a Manor by Selma Lagerloff. 1923. Pages 170-172.

Designing for ballet

Design for ballet has changed in a way very like the accompanying music, although partly for different reasons. An economic factor affecting the issue is that music, generally speaking, is an essential, but ballet can be danced in the simplest costumes with no decor. Sometimes this is a positive advantage; Balanchine’s ballets, for instance, often look best in practice clothes (tights and leotard or singlet). At the other extreme has been what seemed a contest between designers to achieve the most grandiose naturalistic setting for a classic revival. In general, however, the tendency has been towards simplicity and solidity. Martha Graham pioneered the use of sculpture in the designing of ballets and this has proved remarkably successful. Screens, cut-outs, projections, scaffolding and other objects have become more common; realistic painted backcloths less so. Texture, colour and shape are the qualities that matter. The aim is to provide an environment for the dance rather than a moving picture. Sometimes they are imaginative to an almost outrageous degree, but in general the clothes dancers wear in modern works have tended to become more like those they wear off-stage. There are companies that use classical technique but do not have a single tutu in the wardrobe.

Also, as designs became simpler, lighting grew more ambitious. Jean Rosenthal in America first introduced effects with low side lighting picking out the individual dancers from surrounding darkness; others branching out from her discoveries have made stage lighting an art of its own. Revealingly, when Rauschenberg was artistic director for Cunningham one of the things he took great care of was the lighting, rather than more obvious aspects.

Modern Ballet by John Percival. 1970. Page 128-131