We Come to Class to Heal
Ballet class! Most of us remember our first class: somewhere in childhood was the gateway to an enchanted world. Perhaps it is, in part, retreating to there that draws so many non-professional dancers. Is the sublime pleasure they derive from recreational ballet classes the linchpin of the dance? And do those of us who dance for a living neglect this at our peril?
Joining professional ranks transforms dreams into reality. Or does it? As we stretch and sweat and mold ourselves into "marketable" ballet dancers, do we all too often loose something essential on the way? Could we find that magic once again within the ballet class? And would it heal our jaded spirits?
Stress is a major issue in the professional dancer's life. In separating the dancer from the pleasure inherent in the dance, stress can impair artistry. "Artistic development with a minimum amount of stress is an ideal that dance participants desire," writes Judith Lynne Hanna in Dancing for Health: Conquering & Preventing Stress (2006).
Ballerina-turned-teacher Galina Panova's oft-repeated motto is: "We come to class to heal." She says: "Ballet class can, and should, become the art of balancing mind, body, feelings and spirit. Class is the foundation of the dancer's mental as well as physical well-being; a safe haven where nerves are soothed, morale restored."
Daily class is unique to the dance world. Musicians, painters, singers and actors all seem to manage very well without this institution. Dancers, however, functioning at the outer limits of their abilities rely on its predictable form. Leading dance photographer and former Birmingham Royal Ballet soloist Asya Verzhbinsky points out, "Ballet class is extremely important not only for its obvious purpose of warming up the body for the day's rehearsals or performances, but also to focus the mind. Dancers are people first and foremost with their own private lives. Often a ballet class will help leave the private outside so that the dancer can focus more clearly on his or her roles. Because the ballet career is very demanding on all aspects of the person -- the physical, the mental, the spiritual, the emotional, and the creative aspects -- must all be tuned in order to improve long-term, be it in a particular rehearsal, performance or throughout the career. Class is very repetitive, unified and progressive in its structure, hence this is bound to have a meditative effect and help focus for the day."
Unfortunately, even being in control physically and mentally doesn't always protect against the stressors of injury or retirement. Both of these can deprive the dancer of the stability and positive emotions that the ballet class may provide. The Person Behind the Mask by Linda H. Hamilton is shocking in its revelations of a survey conducted on performers. "...injured performers used more illicit and prescribed drugs, as well as more alcohol, than performers without a physical disability. Surprisingly, 38% also reported that they had actually considered suicide as their self-worth deteriorated. No incidence of suicidal thoughts was reported in the healthy performers. The prospect of retirement was also significantly related to impaired psychological functioning."
Injury strikes when it will and can't be planned for. Retirement, on the other hand, may be a time of either loss or growth depending on how it is approached. Verzhbinsky's transition to a new career was really quite ideal. She enjoyed a very full professional life dancing with San Francisco Ballet, Miami City Ballet and as soloist at the Birmingham Royal Ballet before moving to dance photography. In 2002, only one year after she stopped dancing, Verzhbinsky was recipient of the Award for Development of Individual Artists from London Arts.
"I suppose in a sense my understanding of ballet had changed from wanting to dance specific roles and expressing myself directly through the characters, to wanting to show the focus and intensity of the profession as a whole in some other way. I wanted to show the process. Perhaps I would have felt a loss if I had retired sooner than I was ready to do so. Now I just feel like I have grown."
My own exit from the profession was, unfortunately, a classic case of what Hanna calls "'tunnel vision,' the refusal of dancers to acknowledge the reality of a transitory career until it is over because they are devoted solely to the physical and aesthetic demands of dancing..."
The "reality of a transitory career" struck one Tuesday morning in the middle of petite allegro. One minute I was bouncing along through an enchaînement of beaten jétés when quite suddenly the beat wasn't there. This wasn't me! I tried again and this time nothing was there. No beat, no jump, no energy at all. All the power had drained away. Staring at myself in the mirror and frozen in horror, I knew it was over. That was my last professional ballet class.
In the year that followed I struggled to regain health. Overwork, over dieting and age had taken their toll. I tried to come to terms with life, and ballet, and life without ballet. But whichever way I looked at it, that last bit wouldn't stick. Life outside the profession seemed unbearable. I knew the reality was unsustainable but I simply couldn't wrestle myself away from the vision.
Fortunately I wasn't alone and benefited immeasurably from the support and gentle counsel of several dancers, among them Panova. And by the way, their generosity of spirit makes nonsense of the "pins in the pointe shoes" myth of negative relationships among ballet professionals. The deep connection between dancers kicks into high gear at times of stress. Rekindled every morning in class, a social bonding takes place that mitigates the harshness of company life. As Verzhbinsky puts it, "...a feeling of belonging to a shared ideal, yes I think there is a very strong sense of it amongst dancers." One more positive aspect of the ballet class.
While I was unhappy and confused, Panova urged me to follow her example and hold onto dance although no longer performing: "Whatever happens in life I have my daily class and it always is a great comfort. If life gets tough, I just exercise and exercise and my body brings me out of depression." It seemed rather convoluted at first. There I was trying to face life after dance, and she was herding me back to the barre! Eventually, however, I took heed of her suggestion to do classes alone while working through the changing image of my life and myself. She reminded me, "Dancers don't loose ballet when they stop performing -- only the public manifestation of the art. The retired dancer is still the same person and the same artist. And that art can continue to keep flowing from within."
Panova guided my focus away from achieving and onto the actual experience of the dance. I learned to move without reference to its worth in the work place. She told me: "What are high legs, big jumps, many turns anyway? They're not the essence of the dance. Put your focus on the expression."
Finally one day as I did a barre alone, dance felt as free and natural as it had when I was a little girl -- before ballet school, before companies, before diets, before pain. I remembered then that Elvira Roné, my favorite teacher in Paris, used to quote Carlo Blasis [1828]: "The expression of the soul is found in the abandon of your attitudes and your arabesques." Roné explained that this "abandon" means freedom and release from constraint without loosing classical technique. Class and the quintessential nature of ballet were connected in her mind: "Any movement is dry and empty unless it is brought to life by the dancer's artistry and part of the work in ballet class is to awaken that artistry."
It would seem that the professional dancer might serve the art no less by fostering the simple pleasure that lies within the ballet class. Today although my technique is sliding away, the basic form of ballet remains. I love that form: it guides and shapes but no longer restricts my movement. Dance is always there bubbling around inside and sometimes flowing out. Is it this euphoria that draws women from all walks of life to adult ballet classes? Perhaps it is the non-professionals after all that are the "keepers of the flame."
"Linda] Valleroy thinks the ballet dance class is a regression to a childhood state, far, far, from the adult professional world. Many women in adult ballet classes are career women who struggle with adult [and feminine] problems in a man's world during the [playless work] day. At night you can be a little kid again, or a swan, or a princess. These mental images will not get one very far in the work world. What a relief to be a swan" (from Hanna's Dancing for Health: Conquering & Preventing Stress).
*With thanks to Judith Lynne Hanna whose assistance is gratefully acknowledged.