Dance Theatre Northwest, Tacoma, WA

Today marks the lowest point in our journey through ballet studios down the coast. The open adult advanced beginner class at DTNW was a joke-- a big, fat farce. It depressed me to be inside that tiny studio with adults prancing around making a joke of ballet.

"It's not a joke. It's an art. And you're ruining it for me," I wanted to say. It's not tango. I can show you what tango is, in fact. The entire experience was beyond horrible. The only good thing about it was that it was "only" an hour long class.

PEP TALK:

I have a theory. I have a theory that the farther south we go, the better and better the ballet classes will get. Come tomorrow when we cross state lines into Oregon, we will feel better about the state of ballet education on the West Coast. Things will get better!

In fact, this is what journeys are like: They start out decently enough...hopeful enough. Then things get bad, then really bad, then you hit rock bottom. Only then do things start looking up.

I've got high hopes for San Francisco. San Diego should be extraordinary. A tiny part of me will miss home...Nothing like doing plies with poodles sniffing around at your feet. But the most of me is dying to move on down. Ain't nothing for me here but a pretty skyline!

MK Ballet, Issaquah, WA

There are many ways to get a job done. You can yell and shriek and use great force and constant mocking until finally, you have produced a beautiful product. Or you can produce the same beautiful product while maintaining a graceful attitude, a firm yet controlled tone, and a light yet effective touch. You can barrel and bulldoze your way through like a football player ready to tackle, or you can dance you way through like a ballerina-- and still get to where you are going.

The class was taught by a tiny Japanese woman who danced like a proud white stallion and taught like a great white shark.

Here is where I miss Symmetry very much.

The Problem of Flight

The problem with all previous human attempts at pure flight (flight without machinery) is that we have only ever tried to bring our bodies to the sky. You can only stare at clouds in an azure sky and dream for so long before you look away and realize you are still Earthbound. A more viable method of attack would be to bring the sky down to our bodies. That way, you may experience flight while remaining grounded all the while. For instance, in the following image:


I am flying high in the clouds, even as my feet are firmly planted on the marley floor in 5th position, looking out into an imagined audience. This I can never leave, a tangible, human happiness. Here I go!

Spectrum Dance Theater, Seattle, WA

A heady experience, like a very unsettling dream. Ballet class took place in a cabin, sitting mere feet away from the still waters of Lake Washington. Between the parking lot and the school was a small beach with white logs and piles of rock scattered artfully across the sands. Lush, leafy trees arched and curved all zen-like over the embankment, casting watery reflections in the clear blue-green surface. It felt unreal. The instructor was a muffin-topped man who could still spin like the devil (of the Tazmanian variety). As I followed the barre exercises, I kept my eye on one particular dancer, but not because she was a beautiful mover. I was simultaneously fascinated and repulsed by the demeanor of her, so aloof and satisfied with her own grace. Was this her real personality or just the ballet attitude misinterpreted?

After class, Sarah and I did a fun photo shoot on the lakefront property, spent awhile searching for our car key, then left this aberration in the fabric of reality for the highway home, quite subdued at first until we could shake off the lingering feeling of waking from an unsettling dream. We gave it nicknames-- the Twilight Zone, the Mists of Avalon, Hotel California-- and laughed over the sheer absurdity of the entire Spectrum experience until the feeling faded.

Pacific Northwest Ballet, Seattle, WA

International Ballet Theatre, Kirkland, WA

Two studios, one labeled Pavlova, the other Petipa. Our class was held in Petipa. Our bags had gotten lost by the ever-competent airlines, so I had to borrow a mismatch pair of old shoes from the used shoes bin. The instructor, Vera, was Russian-trained. She had the familiar balance of flow and precision. At Symmetry, I'd been taught to prepare rond-de-jambe combination in a very particular way: allonge, plie, tendu, to second. I smiled as I saw the girl in front of me preparing in this same way. The center work was difficult. I kept an eye on the semi-pro dancer who looked like she belonged on top of a fancy, triple-tiered cake, frosted pink and white from head to toe. Each time Vera wanted to make a point, she used this cake fairy to demonstrate. It was this class that made me realize that Kip almost always demonstrates himself and goes around the room correcting the people who need to be corrected, not the ones who are already doing it correctly. It was also in this class that I first heard ballet combinations given out in that dreaded sing-song voice.

Ba-yam-ba-yam-ba-yam-bam-bam-ba-yam!

Shudder.

1300 Miles of Ballet

In May 2010, Sarah and I conceived of a very un-ordinary road trip in which we would drive down the West Coast of the US from Issaquah, WA down to San Diego, CA and back and hit up as many ballet classes as humanly possible along the way. Our reason for making this trip in the first place? Our great friends Jess and Eric were getting married in Fullerton, CA! Speaking in retrospect, the ceremony/reception was really the most beautiful, happiest event of its kind I'd ever experienced. So much good-will concentrated in a tiny spot I had never felt before. But more about that later.

The original idea of "1300 Miles of Ballet" was to document the entire journey in analog diaries and then publish it in digital form. However, the overall ballet experience in terms of ballet education down the West Coast turned out to be so dismal and depressing that I find I have not the heart to share it with others. Why remember a bad thing? In compromise, I will post fragments, rays of happy thoughts, and images that I scribbled along the way.