Week of November 12, 2007
Well, here we are again. I have missed the ballet journaling since the Spain tour. The company has returned to the United States and our Boston audiences as a closely bonded group of world renowned dancers. After many successful Sylphides and Serenades, our Nutcracker season is now in full swing. Rehearsals have revved up and Tchaikovsky is echoing through the halls of 19 Clarendon Street from early morning until long after the sun goes to sleep.
I must admit, I feel a little bit scattered as we head into the first rehearsal week in the theater. I don’t believe I am alone in this sentiment, as most of the company finds themselves scurrying like mice through the building from one rehearsal to the next. This year, after our fall program, the company had a week off and returned relaxed and ready to start the intense Nutcracker preparations. What we weren’t expecting was having to prepare for Nutcracker while rehearsing the world premiere ballet by Helen Pickett that will be performed in March.
The choreographic process challenges both body and mind as we learn new ways of shaping our arms and releasing our torsos to the music. We thrive in these busy times because, at our core, each of us is happiest while dancing. It is also a unique challenge: being a supple, sinewy, modern ballet dancer one hour, twisting and contracting your muscles to Philip Glass, and in an instant, switching gears to embody the posed and technical precision of a Boston Ballet snowflake for The Nutcracker.
There are times during our “fives” (slang used for five minute break between each new rehearsal hour) when countless dancers can be seen reviewing choreography, simply to remind themselves what ballet they are focused on for that hour. There are also many dancers who can be seen staring off into nothingness during those precious break moments. It is hard to know what they are thinking about, but they always look so peaceful.
We are in a profession where if your mind wanders during work, your peers, the choreographer, the rehearsal assistant and anyone watching gets irritated. These few moments a day, when dancers’ brains just stop working, are a necessity. I think a lot of us find ourselves taking mental naps lately, but we are always ready to go as soon as we hear Tchaikovsky begin to sound. It is such a nostalgic, familiar call bringing with it thoughts of Thanksgiving, Christmas trees, wreaths, garlands, all the memories of countless Nutcrackers past and the glorious hopes of a tremendous Nutcracker season to come.
Week of November 19, 2007
The music and magic of The Nutcracker have been a holiday theme in my life since I was seven years old. I remember always comparing roles with my friends saying what new, more difficult roles we were performing in addition to last year's roles. It is amazing how in life some mentalities never change. The Nutcracker still serves as a bench mark for artistic growth for me. I always want to perform better and feel stronger at roles I performed the year before. I also look forward, with the excitement of any kid at holiday time, to any new, challenging roles I may receive in a given year.
This year that challenge is Demi-Soloist flowers, and I can’t wait for my first show. It will be a wonderful test of my technique, and the progress I have made in my dancing since last year. Last night we had our last dress rehearsal for the opening night tonight and, I must say, we were looking really good. The company is so strong right now. Those who frequent The Nutcracker might notice several dancers are testing their strength this year by adding more technical elements to their variations. Even the corps de ballet is raising the bar this Nutcracker season, paying even more attention to technical refinement and “togetherness.” I think opening this season with two weeks of Serenade (a technical feat of stamina in itself) really made us strong for the season to come.
Another treat last night was the opportunity to perform for a speical audience. This year, Boston Ballet's Center for Dance Education invited our Adaptive Dance classes to watch the Nutcracker story unfold. During the intermission, a bunch of dancers went out into the audience to meet our guests. Several kids from the Saturday morning Adaptive Dance class yelled, “Sarah!” and came to visit and hug. I have never felt like such a superstar in my whole life than I did standing there surrounded by wide-eyed children content just to look at my floral crown, red lips, and pink dress.
The applause at the end of the rehearsal was accompanied by shouts of joy. We are so lucky to do what we do. The Nutcracker sends out peace and joy to others during the holidays and provides us with an opportunity for artistic assessment and refinement.
Week of November 26, 2007
Do you ever find yourself hoping before you get out of bed in the morning that our day makes the world a little bit better? That's how I have decided to view this year's Nutcracker. When the days seem long, and my body feels like a limp noodle, I will summon energy from some deep place hoping that my performance will create a spark of joy in the hearts of every warm body watching the show. I sure hope it works.
We have come to the end of a successful first weekend and despite a couple of twisted ankles and some scattered hip pains, the company is standing strong. Mother Ginger had another boot strap dilemma leading to a temporary curtain-down pause in the show, but all was well and she was safely dragged off-stage by the trusty stage crew.
I am sitting in the women's corps de ballet dressing room all by myself right now. A room that is rarely without excited chatter sits so still just now, listening to my thoughts rattle away. Today, I perform my first solo flower with Boston Ballet. It is a new role for me this year, which obviously warrants arriving at the theater two hours too early to begin to warm-up for the second to last dance in the whole show. I think this early prep stems from the same excitement as the child who gets up at 5am to check to see if Santa Claus has come yet. Oh well, I'm excited and in about five hours I should be raring to go!
Well, I had better start getting ready for class as my muscles are still feeling the Boston windburn branded into them. Yea! Winter!
Week of December 3
Ehem...a poem.
'Twas the second weekend of Nutcracker
and all through the house,
Children cheered on the Nutcracker
and "booed" at the King Mouse.
They smiled and laughed at the dancing dolls and bear.
So many different turns and split leaps in the air.
Dross can be scary, a quirky man none could doubt.
Flying balloons and sugar plums -
magic is what he's all about.
In the land of sweets we all have time to shine.
We all have our favorite roles and Marzipan is mine.
When the bows are complete and it's a matinee show
to Starbucks and convenience stores we will all surely go.
At the end of the night we all have some personal time.
I ice my ankles, watch TV and write this silly rhyme.
So have you seen the show yet? Do you go? Do you dare?
Be in awe; feel like a child;
remember to blink, it's hard not to stare.
Week of December 10
Somewhere far past the frosted hills in the land of the sweets, buried deep within the expanses of choreography and costumes, there is an element of performing that the Sugar Plum Fairy never shows the audience. The slightly dark, well-kept secret is the pressure on the individual dancer while performing. I wish you could all know the array of emotions I feel before stepping onstage. It is virtually indescribable. Performing a technical role onstage is the most gloriously uncomfortable, anxiously peaceful, stressful release I could ever dream of, and it is a dream I want to live every night and every day for the rest of my working life.
Along with this high, there is sometimes a low. When I do fail and steps go awry sometimes I crumble after the show. The pressure explodes out of my eyes, and all the preparation, all the faith my mentors, friends, and teachers had in me feels for naught. It feels as thought the whole world was watching that one instant when something didn’t go quite right. A lot of the time it is so easy to forget all the good, to let the perfectionist creep in and fine-tooth comb my performance to death.
No matter where a dancer is in his or her ballet career there is that certain performance angst and pressure. The new dancers in the company are eager to show their stuff and prove themselves worthy of their contracts. They rehearse and rehearse. They battle the stress of performing every “small” role in existence, living each moment in eager anticipation of the one or two shows when they get their own spotlight to show off their talent. They will their fatigue away with excitement and anticipation. In flashing bursts of stage energy they push every step to its maximum.
Seasoned veterans have a parallel stress. They want to go out there on that stage and show that their ballet technique and performance prowess is a direct result of their years of experience. If a step goes wrong, they smile and show that they can turn even a mistake into a beautiful hand gesture or side step. They must have complete control over their body to the point that they transcend the level of the common ballet dancer. It is a pressure, for them, to show that maturity and refinement are the greatest qualities in dance and worth waiting for.
Then there is me…or at least the divide I suppose I fit into. I am neither a veteran of the profession nor a first year novice. We are stuck in a great in between. My group constantly tries to out do itself. We want our technique to be perfect onstage and we want to feel comfortable when we step out there. Also, we remember all our corrections and experiences from previous years, drawing on them to keep improving, keep climbing, keep aiming for success. No matter who the dancer is, when we step onstage and give a show that makes us fly with wild abandon, there are no happier creatures on Earth. Any problem big or small disappears and all that is left is smiles and self worth.
Week of December 17
The birds get so excited when it snows. I never really noticed that before, but the little brown birds that are sprinkled around the city jump around the sidewalk with renewed vigor as soon as the white blanket is laid out beneath them. This morning, with the fallen snow, came a yearly snowbound trek to the Opera House. The Ballet and the postal service - our motto remains "wind, rain, sleet, or snow, get up and go, do the show."
It blows my mind how tense the human body can get simply trying not to slip on the ice. I can feel my shoulders sneak up my back trying to lift my whole body off the ice with them. I try to relax my shoulders in preparation for some kind of performance posture to come. Who knows if it helps or not?
Fatigue doesn't bring the best out of people. In general this is a fact; personally it is oh-so-evident. I find myself hypercritical and hypersensitive. If one step goes wrong in a show, the world is ending - "What?! What do you mean your out of skim milk?" - the world is over. "The T isn't accepting debit cards" - the universe is against you. Help us all if there's no polar ice gum left at CVS! We are all trying to keep the holiday spirit in our hearts by smiling at each other onstage and buying joyous presents for family and friends any chance we get. Largely though, at the back of our brains nestled somewhere next to the sleep center, is a guilt of fatigue that tries to sit us still, make us stare off into space or at least pull us back to bed for a few precious ZZZs.
We are halfway through our shows as of today. A landmark that seems slow in the coming, but I know it is all downhill from here. It always seems to have been so fast when it's all over and then I get sad and miss it so much. That's a metaphor for life as well, I suppose. Most of ballet is really - stand tall, smile as often as possible, never be afraid to dance alone, work well in groups when necessary, know when to lead and when to follow, be comfortable in your own body, spread peace and joy to others. The list goes on and on...
Here are a few personal observations I have made about myself and the world around me in my very over-tired state:
1. Don't disturb ballet dancers while they are feeding between the dates of November 26 and December 29. You could lose an eye, a finger or worse!
2. Any amount of waiting for a train is unacceptable and walking would always have been faster.
3. Coffee shop employees are either so perky and alert you are immediately jealous or they are so mean to you, you cry salty tears into your cup of joe.
4. Any kind of loving gesture, such as coming home to folded laundry or clean dishes means that you have found the one true love to which there is no comparison on this Earth.
5. I am capable of not liking a whole group of people simply because they are all assembled in one location. For example, when you are at the grocery store trying to check out with 300 other people, you are pretty sure for whatever non-holiday spirit reason, that you don't like any of them.
6. Wind is a test of will. If you curl up in the fetal position in the middle of the sidewalk because you are sick of walking into it, you probably fail.
7. Sugar! Sugar! Sugar! There comes a time during Nutcracker that every dancer realizes this dependency. It is a staple of Nutcracker living.
Week of December 24
Sorry it has been so long in between entries. I, like most people, have found myself completely swept up in the holiday hurricane. I love the Nutcracker at Christmas-time. Everyone is exchanging presents and has an extra twinkle in their eye brought on by the massive quantity of sugary treats available on every free table backstage at the Opera House.
Anyone who wonders what dancers eat during Nutcracker should see the girls' dressing room. There are M&M's (peanut and regular), butter-toffee popcorn, homemade bon bons (thank you Claire), honey wheat pretzels, York Peppermint Patties, brownies (rich and moist), and for those of us trying desperately to be good there are soy crisps (apple cinnamon for the holiday). Everyone nibbles the holiday goodness for extra energy and reminders of all the joy the holidays can bring.
I am going home for Christmas, my holiday of choice, where traditions and Wroth family fun will be a nice two day rest from the craziness of Nutcracker. We are having the whole Wroth clan over on Christmas Eve. My father has five sisters which means aunts, uncles and cousins will gather in the old Poolesville Victorian and remember all the Christmases past when there were a lot more diapers and a lot less adults.
My parents are such good people. Each show we perform reminds me of all the Nutcrackers past with them in the audience or in the wings cheering me on. They are probably sick of my calling them every two hours, but what can I say? The holidays and family go hand in hand so sweetly.
The show this evening is the last for two days. I can feel the dark post-Nutcracker excitement "let down" looming, but for now I'll enjoy the show.
NEW!
The Final Show
This is it - the "last day of Nutcracker." A phrase that brings signs of relief and shouts of joy in some, also brings a slightly cloudy sadness in others. We are performers, busy during Nutcracker, and for all our complaints of aching legs and backs, we are so happy to be doing what we love. Come December 30th, we are civilians again. Some will vacation to far-off, hopefully sunny beaches. Some are going to the spa to treat their entire muscle structure. A few will go home to families missed at Christmas. But I guarantee all will miss the excitement and joy felt dancing this Nutcracker season.
I have so enjoyed writing this journal. It really does help me realize new and wonderful aspects of my profession. Thank you for reading and a huge thank you to our company manager, Kirsten Hwang for helping me in my computer, illiterate state.
Look for Sarah in Boston Ballet's continuing 2007-2008 Season productions!
Read Clara's Diary where Boston Ballet School student Lauren Baltrus shares her experiences during The Nutcracker.
Read Sarah's Nutcracker Diary from 2006.