On August 8th, 1988, my plane landed in Brussels. I collected my bag and stood alone wondering momentarily why I had chosen to leave friends, family and a great career as a soloist with the New York City Ballet. It was the last insecure moment of one of the most rewarding adventures I’ve known. Within and hour, I was in France meeting Mark, an American from Seattle, who quickly became a life-long friend. The next six months offered visits to a dozen countries, skiing in the Alps, bartering in the souks of Morocco and weekends roaming the corridors of the Louvre. Europe was irresistible to a young American.

Alongside art, architecture, music, language and culture, I discovered European dance. I watched Maurice Bejart set his work on the Ballet de Monte Carlo, rehearsed with William Forsythe in Frankfurt and attended performances and company classes with the Paris Opera and London’s Royal Ballet. I also met a young French choreographer named Jean-Christophe Maillot. I watched his rehearsals as he staged a work of his for the Ballet du Nord. I remember the piece as being solid and interesting, but mostly I remember the choreographer flooding the room with infectious energy. One dancer repeatedly could not hear a musical cue. Maillot held a chair over his head, threatening to break it on the dancer’s head if the cue was missed again. Both laughed. He lived within his work and drew others in with his conviction.

I followed Jean-Christophe’s career mostly through print and word of mouth, as he moved from the post of artistic director in Tours to Monte Carlo.  I saw his intriguing pas de deux for American Ballet Theatre created on Alessandra Ferri and Ethan Steifel. When the Ballet de Monte Carlo visited New York’s City Center in early 1997, I went to see Maillot’s new production of Roméo et Juliette. I had to remind myself that all the traditions of classical ballet were observed while a natural physicality dominated the choreography. Urgency and spontaneity erased pirouettes and pointed feet. The result was fresh. New York was still hurting from the death of Balanchine and still savoring the classics by MacMillan. New choreographic voices were seldom heard. Maillot’s choreography was a breath of fresh air.

I made a mental note to remember, if given the opportunity to direct a company, to be sure to program Ballet de Monte Carlo’s production.

The preliminary work for PNB began in August, with Gaby Baars and Bernice Coppieters teaching scattered portions of the principal roles. They brought the same enthusiasm I had witnessed two decades before from Maillot to our studios. One dancer accurately described Bernice, the production’s original Juliet, as intoxicating. I would describe her as the most generous coach I’ve ever seen. Jean-Christophe arrives soon to put final touches on his ballet. We are the first American company to perform the work.

We are now scrambling to teach street scenes and puppet shows and flesh out characters in the coming days. The studios are full of sweat and sore muscles as the dancers grapple with intricate lifts and specific musicality. The chemistry between lovers is thick; the heat of violence palpable. Our dancers are now actors of the first rate, bringing laughter and tears to viewers. They will reward our audiences and reap the rewards of what promises to be a career highlight.