Arts Therapy 2020

Never mind it's been November in my soul since the end of August, with last year's retirement begetting a seemingly endless march of funerals (and the one wedding on the fall calendar offset just three weeks ago by the last and most devastating of these rites). The usual course for most people is immersion among more people. This is not my way.

I'd already had a ticket for the February 12 Giselle at the Kennedy Center, starring my oft-discussed Daniil Simkin as Albrecht, and it was an outing I could not deny myself despite that morning's fatal news. My evening of solitary reflection among crowds was briefly and pleasantly interrupted before the theater opened as I sat with a gentleman (stranger to me) who loved music and dance and all things beautiful and heart-swelling. Enjoyable encounter. I even told him about the time I wrote a ballet during a National Symphony Orchestra open rehearsal of Mahler's Fifth ("My, My, Mahler" and "The Mahler Ballet").

That was pretty much the end of the enjoyable encounter with another solitary member of the crowd. The ballet was dreary. Act 1 was all acting, little dancing. Too many people on stage standing or sitting about with nothing to do. And other than a few fireworksy variations from Daniil and his Giselle (Sarah Lane) and the expected excellent corps work in Act 2, not much from Giselle's gang of "ghost bitches" could get my mind away from the personal sorrows at hand.

A week away to tend to the sorrows at hand, and I felt a little more ready to face the crowds for the next outing already on my calendar, Silent Sky by Lauren Gunderson at Ford's Theatre. Science, history, feminism, families, problem solving, romance, humor--a few of the starry elements crossing the sky. The tourist-heavy and generally youthful audience was exuberant and gave a well-deserved standing ovation. I love standing ovations at Sunday matinees. I always smile and say to Edward Duke, "See? They're not the worst houses!"

Ballet, theater ... two of the couches I crawl onto for my art therapy. The other is museums, particularly art museums.

Yesterday's excursion to the National Gallery of Art was inspired by the Washington Post review by Sebastian Smee (author of The Art of Rivalry) of the "True to Nature" exhibit. I got there in time for the 11 a.m. guided lecture and again had a delightful pre-tour chat with two like-minded strangers. Unfortunately I lost them in the crowd that followed our guide through three small and fully occupied rooms. I enjoyed what I could see, cornered by the crowd, but didn't have quite the same reflective experience Sebastian did.

Artist in a Renaissance Costume Sketching in the Arena of Nimes (1822) by Fleury Richard.

crowd

As is my custom, I went directly to the Garden Cafe for a Ladies Who Lunch lunch (alone in a smaller and quieter crowd). I think "garden cafe" is a sweet aesthetic; if and when I move, that might be my new design guide. The mouse (I think) scurrying across the floor rattled me a little, but not enough to scream out. Just pick up purse from floor and rest feet on the cafe table's ornamental iron legs.

Garden Cafe, ornamental legs and shadows

National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C.: West facing East

The Sacrament of the Last Supper (1955) by Salvador Dali. (NGA link)

For the remainder of my visit, I went back to some of my favorite rooms (starting in Gallery 71) and looked more closely at pictures, observing specificity without detail (as with the True to Nature paintings).

South Room - Green Street (1920) by Daniel Garber. (NGA link)

Detail--or specificity? Light and reflection.

Wandered around some more, spending more time with each picture, including Albert Bierstadt's epic Lake Lucerne.

Lake Lucerne (1858) by Albert Bierstadt. (NGA link)

  

And many more. Please pardon the colors and blurries. Go in person. It's better.

Love, hosaa
Therapeutic art trekking

At the Ballet: Don Quixote and Friends

One of my mantras in life is "More information is better than less information," so when American Ballet Theatre's spring appearance at the Kennedy Center was originally announced, with no mention of our favorite Daniil Simkin, I pretty much blew it off. The schedule gets overloaded this time of year anyway.

From 2011: Daniil Simkin at the Kennedy Center.

I'm amending my mantra: "More information, sooner, is better than less information." The moment that I learned the team of dancers participating in the D.C. tour ending this afternoon now included Daniil, I bought my ticket for the most convenient performance for me, the Saturday afternoon matinee. He was to dance the lead role of Basilio in Don Quixote! Yay!

The price and timing for tickets being what they were, I ignored the fact that Daniil would also be dancing in the mid-week mixed rep, a program that included Frederick Ashton's "The Dream." If I'd had the money and time, this would have brilliantly enhanced my 2014 collection of A Midsummer Night's Dream adaptations (including last month's Bristol Old Vic & Handspring Puppet version and next month's BSO concert at the Strathmore). Damn.

Daniil Simkin as "Puck." Photo by Gene Schiavone via Facebook.

At any rate, the DQ performed yesterday was nothing but delightful, and I benefited from a fortuitous audience enhancement. The couple sitting next to me had come down from New York especially to see this performance. They were huge ABT supporters and fans of Daniil Simkin in particular.

Since not everyone can be expected to know everything about their favorites, it's a gift when you can swap information. I shared the fact that Daniil had been posting some fabulous photos and videos on his site, demonstrating remarkable transplatform versatility. My neighbors shared with me some knowledge about Daniil's early training (which I already knew: basically home-schooled by his ballerina mother), which led them to observe that his partnering skills have long been wanting. The demanding DQ pas would be revealing (it's one of the pieces Leslie Browne and Mikhail Baryshnikov performed in The Turning Point).

Lack of early training in partnering is the least of Daniil's problems--he is not a burly Bluto of a man. He's Ariel, he's Puck. Can he lift his lady? Can he hold her steadily as she turns? Can he keep from dropping her on her head whenever she flies headfirst into his arms?

Yes, yes, and yes. And his lady, Isabella Boylston, even shot him a sweet smile of tender confidence during some of these difficult moves. (Yes, I brought my binoculars. Always.)

My knowledgeable friends next door were quietly commenting on much of the program in play; this was one of the very few times in my theater-going experience that I didn't object to neighbors chatting. In fact, I wished I could hear what they were saying. "Disappointing" caught my ear. Yikes! What was disappointing about what I just saw? Nothing! Nothing! Certainly not Daniil. At the intermission, they turned immediately to me to see my reaction, and of course I loved it. They said that Daniil was dancing fantastically, so--whew--he was not the source of that fleeting "disappointment."

Another comment I overheard was that so-and-so should be promoted out of the corps de ballet--she (or he) is too good. I was too shy to ask who. Really, eavesdroppers need to be careful about digging for dirt, even if it's good dirt.

One young dancer they did point out to me as a future superstar was the male half of the Gypsy Couple, Zhiyao Zhang. "He's just a teenager!" my neighbor enthused while the young man was dancing. He'd mentioned also that this Saturday matinee cast was far from being "the B team"; rather, it was the "young team." (ZZ is actually 20 or 21, according to his bio.)

In all, the dancing was beautiful, the sets and costumes were beautiful. I loved the curtain projection of a giant painted fan decorated with Spanish scenes of villages and bullfights.

So glad I went. I had ditched the stage door after the last time Daniil danced here (midweek evening performances are very taxing), but it was a lovely early evening by the time curtain came down yesterday. I joined the other bunheads (about two dozen of various ages) at the Opera House stage entrance, and all seemed to be waiting for Isabella and Misty Copeland (DQ's fiery street dancer). Both lovely ladies delighted the fans with photos and autographs.

Isabella Boylston

Misty Copeland

Now, I did see Daniil peek out the door, still in makeup, and happily inviting a young female friend backstage. There were a few VIP friends and family of dancers invited through the big door. But Daniil didn't come back out to greet the fans as he had done three years ago. There were only about six of us ladies left waiting when a stage door guardian informed us no one else would be coming out. (Looking at the time stamp on my 2011 photo, I see Daniil took at least an hour after curtain before emerging that time, so I was prepared for a wait.) It might have been a ruse to clear the corridor. Several ladies hung back a bit, but the guard stood at the door, seemingly keeping an eye on errant fan behavior.

Maybe that's what happens when you become a superstar. (It is also possible he was simply deferring to the ladies this time. Despite his thunderous ovations, he didn't take a soloist's bow at curtain. He presented his lady, who sweetly shared one of her beautiful roses with him.) I don't deny Daniil or anyone the privilege of managing his time or audience face-time. He did what he was supposed to do: Delight.

Love, hosaa
not really a bunhead

ETA, April 21 - Awwwww!

Post by Daniil Simkin.

Le Corsaire in the Afternoon

I knew already that ballet companies tend to put their star dancers on in prime-time slots: opening night, Friday and Saturday evening performances. So my Saturday matinee selection for American Ballet Theater's spring visit to the Kennedy Center had more to do with timing my first viewing of the classic Le Corsaire with when I would be able to see Daniil Simkin perform in it.

ABT and KenCen do a good job of listing the dance assignments well in advance for the convenience of fans wanting to get tickets on the right days. So I knew Daniil had drawn both weekend matinee dance assignments, but with different roles.

The bad news was that neither role Daniil performs this weekend is the lead, the hero (Conrad the pirate). But the good news is that Le Corsaire is structured to give a lot of dancing to the featured performers.

My Daniil draw today was for Lankendem the slave trader. It's a character role, but he gets to start dancing as soon as the curtain goes up on Act I. Yay! He also does considerable partnering with the slaves he's auctioning, particularly the second lead lady, Gulnare (today performed by Sarah Lane).

When I realized that Daniil would be playing the role of Ali the Slave at tomorrow's performance, I was disappointed that I would miss the iconic role of this ballet. It's Ali (Ivan Vasiliev, photographed by Rosalie O'Connor) on the cover of the program:

And it's Ali the Slave that you see Mikhail Baryshnikov performing during the gala montage in The Turning Point.

But as it turns out, despite the iconic status and the technical fireworks in the slave's big Act II dance, it isn't much of a role. So I was very satisfied with my Daniil dance fix today. I can simply extrapolate and imagine.

Daniil Simkin as Ali the Slave in Le Corsaire, American Ballet Theater. Photo by Gene Schiavone

And before I could even start this blog, Daniil had already blogged his own post-performance assessment: #ItWentWellButI'mKindaTired 

What a cutie!
love, hosaa

Tall Men Never Slouch

So I kept checking the Kennedy Center schedule to find out when Daniil Simkin would be dancing and finally got a ticket for tonight. Because it's Daniil, and of course I want to see his cute face, I went ahead and got orchestra, as close to the front as I could still get, having delayed ticket buying.

Bum gouge.

So row H turned out to be the second row (the orchestra having called dibs on rows A-F). Yay for being close to Daniil! But oopsie: Row G had an occupant in front of me. A tall one. A very tall one with big curly hair.

I considered hopping over the aisle to the front row in the center section, as those two people didn't show up for the first act. But lo, they ambled in for the second act (the one with Daniil). So I settled in to squirm back and forth around tall bushy guy for Act II and Daniil's performance in the pas de deux from Swan Lake.

But wait a second. Who the hell is that? It wasn't Daniil. It was Marcelo Gomes. Who's a perfectly handsome and wonderful dancer and all that, but I wanted Daniil. Now I need to go find out what happened to him. He is too well trained to just not feel like dancing.

As for the rest of the program, I will say I thoroughly enjoyed the 80% of the first and third acts that I could actually see: "Black Tuesday" by Paul Taylor (with recorded songs of the Great Depression including "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" performed by Simone Messmer and "Brother Can You Spare a Dime" performed by Jared Matthews) and "Thirteen Diversions" by Christopher Wheeldon (to Benjamin Britten's "Diversions for Piano and Orchestra").

These two pieces were fresh additions to the "typical" ABT mixed rep of twirling glitterpops. The Wednesday night audience was tepid, though. The only standing-ovationers were along the sides and back of the house. Not even tall bushy-haired man stood--which enabled me to actually see the company when I did.

Bright Foolery

As I predicted, today's trip down to the Kennedy Center was quite a bit less adventurous than Thursday.

Today was to see American Ballet Theatre's matinee of The Bright Stream, a comic ballet set on a Russian collective farm. A troupe of dancers and musicians visits the collective, husbands flirt with ladies they're not supposed to, and revenge and tomfoolery ensue.

The tricks are the classic comic fodder you find in Shakespeare, with cross-dressing, mistaken identities, and a bit with a dog.

I don't mean to dismiss the production at all. It was utterly charming. But I really just wanted to watch Daniil Simkin dance! I had thought he was originally rehearsing to perform as the Accordionist, so I'm glad he was recast. The Accordionist is the one who dresses as a dog in Act 2. Instead, Daniil performed as the visiting Ballet Dancer. Good casting! Except in Act 2 he performs largely in drag as a "Sylphide" to trick the elderly dacha dweller. It was very silly and very fun.

The nice thing about a Saturday matinee is that it's not so late when it's over and I'm not in a rush to get home. So I hung around the stage door to wait for Daniil. He was one of the last ones out.

There is a scene in The Bright Stream where the Ballet Dancer signs the autograph book for the foolish elderly woman, identified in the program as "Anxious-to-be-younger-than-she-is Dacha Dweller." Daniil sweetly did an encoure of that scene with me.

love, hosaa
a little foolish, but brightly so

Fancy That

Back from the Kennedy Center--no, not the gala for the JFK inauguration anniversary. I went to the ballet next door (American Ballet Theatre).

If it weren't for the dancing, it would have been a pretty miserable night. I wanted to see Daniil Simkin dance, of course, and had waited and waited for ABT and Kennedy Center to announce the cast list for this tour. When they finally did, and I saw Daniil was supposed to dance in "Fancy Free" on the 20th, I grabbed my ticket.

"Cast subject to change." So they did. I saw on the KenCen Web site a couple of weeks ago that Daniil was taken off the performance I had a ticket for. Boo. But I still love ABT. And I knew Daniil was also rehearsing "The Bright Stream," so I got another ticket, for the Saturday matinee.

As for tonight, well, let's just say I'm clueless and didn't know about the gala. We got e-mails from KenCen letting us know that, due to "unusual circumstances," access to the parking garage would be closed on one side. (I didn't want to take Metro because I'm getting old, ya'll, and the Foggy Bottom station's escalators are out.)

So I wind my way around to enter through the usual exit at KenCen, then idle in a line to have my trunk and hood inspected by security. There is a bomb-sniffing German shepherd looking very authoritative and all. And when I finally get inside, there's a big well-dressed mob, all being herded into the grand foyer and toward a row of metal detectors.

Oh great. Obviously the President is in the building. I look around for celebrity political people, but I don't know any. When I get close enough to the check-in place to look around a little, I see that I'm being herded toward the Concert Hall (gala) and not toward the Opera House (ballet). So I work my way through the tuxedos and their dates (something about the well-heeled that doesn't like stepping aside).

I had missed dinner and was annoyed, but at least I could get a snack in the foyer--and some cookies and lemonade in the Members Lounge.

The pieces of the mixed rep program were "Theme and Variations" (Balanchine), "Jardin Aux Lilas" (Tudor), "Duo Concertant" (Balanchine), and "Fancy Free" (Robbins).

The first piece was marred by an incident in the audience; even up in the first tier we could hear loud talking, and I thought it was probably the security guys' walkie talkies. I mentioned it to the usher at intermission, and he told me someone had collapsed and they had to call an ambulance.

Though it was pretty distracting to the audience, it didn't seem to faze the dancers at all (principals were Michele Wiles and Cory Stearns, and the commotion went on mainly during their spotlight duet).

"T&V" is the sort of Pretty Princesses piece you expect in the ABT mixed-rep program. The only thing that distracted me a little (besides the walkie-talkie incident) was the fact that the gentlemen's military-themed wardrobe came in different colors. If they're in the same Army, wouldn't they wear the same color? (Stupid audience observation.)

"Jardin" was a somber Tudor morality play, but I couldn't really figure out who or what the characters represented. I guess I should have downloaded the plot synopsis, like I did for Cymbeline for our Shakespeare Readers last week. Anyway, Julie Kent was lovely as the main lady torn between lovers (I guess) and leaving with the dancer that brung her.

"Concertant" was simply charming. Two dancers listen to the pianist and violinist, then dance a bit.

There was a change of casting for "Fancy Free" due to injury; instead of Cornejo, Stiefel, and Carreno, we got Salstein, Radetsky, and Gomes. Anyway, even if I couldn't see my fave, these gentlemen were fancy enough indeed. Love me some Marcelo Gomes. Hope I didn't make any distracting noises. (Slurp!)

Much easier getting home than getting there. It should be less complicated on Saturday--let's hope for no more galas and German shepherds and tuxedo mobs. Just my Little Prince and the new production of "Bright Stream" everyone's buzzing about.

love, hosaa
wishing I could be a little more footloose in all this ...

(1-21-11, edited to add a little detail about the dances themselves.)

Beauty Therapy, and other laughable ideas

One of my New Year's resolutions was to blog more about my encounters with the arts. I did a fairly comprehensive roundup of my arts adventures last year for my Christmas newsletter, but wanted to do better on a more ongoing basis by going back to that "theater diary" assignment from the Georgetown U. class many many years ago....

Well, you know how New Year's resolutions go. (I've already missed recapping New Year's Eve "Young Frankenstein" at the Kennedy Center and the Elliott Yamin concert at the Birchmere.)

This week was especially interesting, arts-wise. First (Monday) was the Ford's Theatre benefit dinner with two guest speakers talking about the new production of "The Rivalry," a dramatization of the Lincoln/Douglas debates.

Wednesday was American Ballet Theatre's second night of a short run at the Kennedy Center, which meant mixed rep and not as many principals (reserved, evidently, for opening night Tuesday and for the full-scale ballet, "Romeo and Juliet," on the weekend). Why did I pick the "B" production and "B" cast? Daniil Simkin, whom I saw perform as a guest with ABT last year. Not just adorable and hard working, he's got a grand jete so explosive that you'd believe a new universe is being created.

And any ballet is just good beauty therapy, from Ashton's twirling candies at a birthday party, to the magical ensemble in the mysterious and dangerous forest (with piano accompaniment), to Tharp's calculus of shapes and shifting partnerships. It's all good.

Then tonight (Thursday) was my subscription play at the Round House Theatre, the second preview performance of "Permanent Collection," and it's here where I start to collect my thoughts.

The play was about art, heritage, vision, inspiration, and racism. Not necessarily in that order. Really it was about empathy, or lack thereof. Each of the two protagonists (one black, one white) asks the audience to see things from his point of view. They do not ask each other this, but rather demand, defend, and deny each other. In the end, their accusations of each other's racism are aired by the reporter seeking balance, and in the court of public opinion, both are brought down.

What struck me was the lack of empathy, the unwillingness to change or to seek compromise. As one of the female characters pointed out, it became a pissing match.

The issue of racism is tough in a suburban theater; I was listening to the audience comments at intermission, and most of the "ladies who lunch" seemed to think the black guy was overreacting. Well, I think they both were.

One thing really hit home for me at the end of Act One: that the white guy had to admit he'd never been downtown to the Museum of African Art. The point in the play was that he didn't feel he needed to understand black art because it wasn't as good as white art. Confession: I've never been there either. It's definitely on the list now.

Prejudice is a tough thing. And you wouldn't know it to look at me, but I deal with the kinds of things the black character was talking about--the sense of always being looked at as inferior. This is a really REALLY feeble comparison, but I've heard one too many dumb blonde jokes to think they're anything but old-fashioned prejudice.

Case in point: Let's go back to Monday night at the Ford's dinner. Guest speakers were a best-selling author and Civil War historian, Jay Winik, and the director of the production of "The Rivalry," Mark Ramont. It was a wonderful opportunity to talk to some interesting people.

Mark was charming over hors d'oeuvres as he described the structure of the three-person play and how he staged it, with the wife of Stephen Douglas as sort of a narrator/go-between between Lincoln and Douglas. I got very excited about that because it reminded me instantly of the structure for Michael Frayn's play of a couple of years ago, "Copenhagen," about Niels Bohr and Werner Heisenberg. So I enthusiastically dropped that comment into the conversation.

Mark did a double take. Literally. He hemmed-hawed a nanosecond, and then said something like, yes, well, except "The Rivalry" won't be quite as "heady" as that.

You know what? That's not exactly the first time a man has done a double-take when I, a tall blonde, demonstrated my mastery of linear thought in the form of a complete sentence or a pertinent reference in conversation. Like, really, you know?

So it should not have surprised me that dry, droll Dr. Winik pretty much laughed at me throughout dinner. Maybe it was because I insulted the intelligence of our most recent former president by saying (or starting to say) that I wouldn't vote for anyone I didn't think was smarter than I am. I'll admit to not being very diplomatic. Oops. But I was making references to books and authors that supported whatever the hell we were talking about, and he (in a very professorial demeanor) challenged me at nearly every turn.

Finally, I was in the middle of making a point about the importance of story telling and started to say "that's what I love about Tolstoy..." when Jay turned to his neighbor and sarcastically remarked, "Did you think you'd be sitting at a dinner where somebody says 'And that's what I love about Tolstoy'?" And to twist the knife, to me: "You'll have to find someone with an IQ of 200 to vote for."

I may not be the brightest penny in the dish, but I know when I'm being laughed at.

But here's where I go back to one New Year's resolution I made a few years ago that I still actually keep fairly well: Laugh.

Someone drops the door in my face? Laugh at that person's clueless rudeness. Insulted? Laugh at the inferiority of manners and self-image. Well, just laugh, because it feels better than being mad.

I don't think that philosophy could have saved the two characters in "Permanent Collection," but it couldn't have hurt.

Like my "beauty therapy" at the ballet, the response of both men to the artists who touched them could have been a place to find common ground. One feels about the Cezannes the way the other feels about the African masks. Start with the beauty and the inspiration, and share that.

Love, hosaa
thinking, feeling, laughing (and way too tired to do links. Google is your friend.)