I dunno who's favorite this was--
the head ballet mistress for Hubbard Street
or the pianist
But every day, our first exercise -- usually a mellow plier series -- would be accompanied by this song.
And every time I hear it, I'm immediately calmed. Brought back to that cold studio. Standing at the bar between 2 ballerinas....or maybe that 35 year old dancer who's all crickety and tired but every move she makes is stunning thanks to her age and experience.... Me drowning in layers of worn out knit hoping to keep my 98lb. body warm enough in the frigid studio until either the heater kicks in or our body heat warms up the space. (the body heat usually won)
Watching Birute's long, graceful, kirov-trained arms swim through the air guiding us through the series....her calm, wabbling voice gently waking us up... The fog on the windows blurring the train and all the cookie-cutter corporate drones miserably departing on the platform....
That was as dream life! Funny how all the stress and pressure I put on myself to be superhuman marred what is definitely the high point of my life..... I watch The Company and cry and cry and cry remembering those wonderful frigid days on 19th/Halsted and Wabash/Adams. Harriet's thick whiny NYC voice scolding us for not being more demanding of our bodies. Lou grabbing his golden retriever, Buddy, from the doorway to the studio before he could get in and be trampled by our grand sodebasques (sp?!)- Joel and his regal majesty... The Cabrini Green kids in their low-slung pants and high-top Jordans showing us tutu-butts how hip-hop is REALLY executed -- compete with sass, rebellion, and fire one can only develop growing up in one of the most dangerous blocks in the county.
sigh....
thank you Birute and Warren for giving me something to bring this all back-
Thank you Chopin.
No comments:
Post a Comment