symphonie des psaumes

At the end of three weeks, I'm exhausted, but happy.  We had Brigitte (a stager from NDT) here to teach us Symphonie des Psaumes, the first of the three Stravinsky pieces in our program.  Stravinsky wrote this piece in 1930, where the choir sings the texts from three Psalms (38, 40 and 150) throughout the three movements.  Kylian choreographed it in 1978, early in his career, and set it within a constrained space smaller than the stage where chairs and a box of brown flooring mark out the walls of the church that holds all of our movement.  

The music, in natural Stravinsky fashion, makes a mess out of the idea of meter -- we spent the entire first week or two (or three) trying to count fast enough in every language at the same time, all while the meter was changing and the melody was swinging wildly over the underlying tempo, leaving us frantically searching for the 5's, 8's, 7's, 6's, 3's, 12's and 14's.... This led to the recent discovery that counting past 8 in French is a lost cause; as soon as I'm supposed to find neuf-dix-onze-deuze I completely lose the correlation between the music and the steps and the counts, because it took me two counts to figure out what silly number came after neuf! Maria, one of our principals, has been laughing about it with me in rehearsal, where she has often caught herself, mid run through, realizing she started counting the next 1 after 8 counts, instead of 12, and so trying to do math while dancing to say, "ok, I got to 3, 3 plus 8 is 11, plus 1 more is 12 and then I start again at 1!" -- of course by this time you're another 8 counts late, so you're trying to add those together too, and it quickly spirals out of control.  There's a lot of looking at each other in this ballet, and praying (fitting, given our setting).

I've been particularly beat up -- it's a physical ballet, lots of deep lunges and tricky partnering, deep contractions, so we're bent in half and walking in a deep plié so the inside of our wrists are the most forward and upwards part of our body, attached to the invisible chord pulling us all the way across the stage -- and I got lucky enough to be one of the two couples in both casts.  First cast my partner and I do all of the corps de ballet sections (the whole ballet is only eight couples, arranged in different patterns throughout, but with four soloist couples and four other couples who are in the group pieces and the pas de 4 and pas de 8, etc) and second cast for one of the four main pas de deux couples.  It has truly been a blessing to come back to Kylian, where I can feel like I can continue to build on the pieces I was just starting to dig my fingernails into in June with Petite Mort.  There are so many ways in which I can feel my dancing being stretched and pulled in the best of ways, learning to pare away my physical bad habits and mold myself into his way of moving, with simplicity and clear intention.  This feels as different from Petite Mort as Mozart is from Stravinsky, meaning in so many ways and in none.  It is still all about finding how to work with your partner, how to let your body relax into tension, pull out and extend from each exhale.

On top of that, this past week we have had Gilbert Mayer here as a guest teacher.  He is one of the iconic professors from the Opera National de Paris -- both the company and school at the Paris Opera --  and brought classical ballet (and how it is to be done in the école francais) back with a vengeance.  It is really amazing how hard we work, how long we have been dancing and taking class every single morning, and yet there are so many things that are still wonderfully too hard.  We finished the week by filming a full run-thru of Symphonie with each cast, and then being made to sit and watch it (dancers notoriously hhhhhaaaaate watching themselves on video) -- leaving us amazed at how much better it has gotten over the three weeks, and just how far we still need to go before we're even close to being satisfied.

Summer summaries...

So I've been horribly neglectful the last few months, and I sincerely apologize, though I don't feel too horrible because most of my free time was taken up by preparing for about 99% of my blog readership to visit, and then going home, so.... ;) they got the updates regardless.

Mm, The Tempest was a modern program we did in May at the Halle aux Grains theatre, but my memory is mostly muddled by constant apartment visits, searching for my new home. Just before heading to the theater for opening night I found it: after many "fine" or "maybe acceptable" slightly dingy options that I could've turned into a home with a fair amount of work, I visited the apartment I'd had a special feeling about all week, and it was magic. Mountains when the weather cooperates, river, trees, flowers, a balcony, 5th floor with an elevator, light, airy, clean... I snatched it up quick as I could. 

After mid-May, the days filled up fast, preparing for Nanette's last program.  I danced Concerto Barocco, Slaughter on 10th Avenue, and Petite Mort, and couldn't have been happier.  Concerto is ultimate Balanchine, 8 corps girls and 2 soloists to a Bach violin concerto with two solo violins (plus one boy to carry the girl around in second movement). It is 20-25 minutes in white leotards and pink tights, and the corps never stops, never leaves the stage, and carries the piece.  Slaughter on 10th Avenue is just great fun, Balanchinian broadway with girls in flapper dresses, Richard Rogers music, and tap dancing.  It was funny to me to realize that American culture includes knowing how to do the Twist and the Charleston and jazz hands, and a lot of Europeans don't have that innate sense.  I have long thought of myself as a mishmash of cultures, with no real precise cultural heritage but instead the specific surroundings that molded me into who I am.  After almost a year in France, I finally found an area where I truly identified myself as American with a smile and a high kick.

The major accomplishment of the program for me, however, was Petite Mort.  It's the kind of ballet dancers dream of performing, choreographed by Jiri Kylian to Mozart -- in other words, the best of the best.  My partner Jérémy and I had a great time with it, nerves and high expectations met equally by the movement and joy of doing it.  We were second cast to Paola and Valerio, two experienced Italian principals, and so had the chance to watch a more veteran approach before throwing ourselves into it and bringing a whole different quality to the pas de deux.  I came offstage, exhausted from doing all three programs in one show, but exhilarated and ready to perform it again and again and again into forever.  That kind of ballet.  

Through this whole program I had the incredible luck to have my family here!  Nana and Papa first, and then Logan, Mum and Dad, to watch the last shows and hang out in southern France for a while.  We went to Bordeaux for the Fête de Vin, and toured wineries in Saint-Emillion, they went and saw prehistoric caves... and we ate and visited museums and wandered Toulouse, with Papa, Dad and Logan joining forces for a bit of bricolage setting up my apartment while I was at work most days.  After Nana and Papa headed back to Canada for a family reunion and I finished up work (two extra weeks working with Kader, the director-to-be, tacked on to the end of the season), it was FINALLY time for les vacances.  

The first afternoon of freedom, Logan and I went paragliding in the Pyranées -- talk about running headlong into vacation -- and, with Mum and Dad, we stayed in a mountain lodge before going river rafting the next day.  Sunday we headed to Rome, the city of the Colosseum, Saint Peter's basilica, Michelango's La Pieta, and the fettuccine alfredo Logan spent most of his life thus far searching for.  Then Florence, full of art and beautiful bags and amazing food, with our two days in the city mostly spent taking the marvelous advice of my friend Clare who'd spent a semester studying there this spring, and went about 12 for 12 on recommendations.  A midnight private tour of the battlements of the town hall/museum with live music drifting up from the street (cue me and Logan waltzing with the city behind us); to-die-for gelato (coupled with the rationale that yogurt is a breakfast food, frozen yogurt definitely should count as an acceptable accompaniment to our croissant...); an unforgettable meal at Il Santo Bevitore, including potato foam soup with poached egg and truffle oil (as an example) and bathroom stalls marked by tiles of a simple red rose, and le petit prince... I can't wait to get back there. Then we had a quick stay in Venice, a city of romance and water, lightning storms over the canal and artisan masks, and winged lions harkening back to an era where Venice was the center of the Mediterranean world.... 

Then, back to Toulouse and on to New York, and then home for five full weeks, enough time to see so many old friends and bask on the dock and take a full course at the UW, which filled in all the time between my yoga, ballet, and Gaga classes.  It was called "Culture, Ecology and Politics in Seattle" and was wonderful -- both because the content was interesting, the teacher was great, the readings were thought-provoking... and because it reminded me about how good I am at being a nerd: taking notes well and knowing the answers to questions in class and having superb highlighting skills. ;) This post is already too long, but I could gush about my family and being home for hours.  I'll just trust in the fact that most of my readership spent time with me in person this summer anyway, and move on.  Besides, what more can you want, life has to be pretty blissful when I have this as the view from my bedroom window: 

Another "layover" in New York... for nine days... on my way back to Toulouse was wonderful -- apartment hunting with Sophie, learning secret family recipes from Dan's mum, getting to watch him and Max play tennis, getting caught in a downpour with Paul and Sophie, a Yankee game (and loss, thank the baseball gods), wonderful music and making new friends, catching up with Jin and Eduardo, getting to say a heartfelt hello to Alma (that'd be Alma Mater, the statue on the Columbia steps).... New York is always good.  It was the first time in a few years, however, that it didn't immediately feel like home -- a sign, I think, of how I really have become attached to my little space over here on the far side of the Atlantic.  And what a pretty little life I have set up for myself here:

I've been back two and a half weeks now, and my life is already feeling all sorts of lovely and full, with yoga and all day rehearsals of Kylian, and good new books (on my new Kindle too!) and long brunches and picnics out by the Garonne, market veggies and my new apartment starting to feel like home.... Life's good. All of sudden, here we are, at the start of year two. On y va.