Twyla Tharp arrived last Saturday night. She had arranged for a series of meetings on Sunday with set and costume designers, videographer, ballet master, conductor, PR and marketing staff, and, of course, me, artistic director. I was impressed with the preliminary work our staff had done. Our technical director offered a perfect three-dimensional representation of the art of Giorgio de Chirico. Our costume designer patched together gritty street deconstructions with traces of epaulets and urban chic. This was the beginning of our eight weeks together which culminate with two world premieres on September 25. After a year and a half of planning, I was pleased to be mere hours away from our first rehearsal.
The dancers returned from the Vail International Dance Festival on Saturday, having performed three programs at 8000 feet above sea level. Twenty-five were called to the first rehearsal on Monday. The mix of excitement and nerves in the room was palpable. Twyla cracked the tension with humor but quickly set the tone of focused work. She understands dancers and recognizes the extraordinary power of creation within studio walls. She’s been doing it for decades and I would bet that being in a studio with dancers tops her list of life’s greatest moments. I watched as the dancers’ intelligence and conviction met Twyla’s intricate phrases. Eighteen months of anticipation and preparation reached fruition. The brilliant dancer, Charlie Hodges, working as a rehearsal assistant, offered clear movement and insight as a vital connection between the choreographer’s thought and physical reality. Twyla was not afraid of jumping up to further articulate a movement. Later in the week, she would leap onto Charlie and clutch like a koala as Charlie maneuvered her around his body like a baton. We tensed as Twyla’s head swung inches from the floor―an introduction to the thrill and potential peril of contact improv.
Six hours passed in a flash. Dancers barely had time to register the pain and fatigue stored in muscle. Minds were spent and some uttered that it was one of the best experiences they had known.
Providing the dancers with a rewarding experience is always a priority, but the education affects so many others. I was pleased to see faces pressed against our studio windows as parents and students watched. A steady stream of staff members stopped by, as did members of the press and Board of Trustees. Curiosity is infectious. Our largest studio offers a balcony that allows visitors to enter the space without disturbing it. On Thursday, photographer Marc von Borstel moved through the space capturing images more like an eye than a camera.
As the week progressed, both works took shape, as did the casts. This is never easy, but I was impressed with Twyla’s clarity as she carefully explained her decisions to each individual.
Giorgio de Chirico wasn’t quite right either―in mood, yes, but not in palette. Twyla referred to the familiar intimate portraits Irving Penn took of Balanchine, his muses and collaborators. Gray is the operative color for the Martynov work. The triangular wall in the Penn portraits intrigues Twyla. It is the unnoticed presence in the image, casting claustrophobia and futility like a long shadow. The week ended on Saturday as Twyla and our technical director set out to look at concrete walls in Ballard.
Week one went well.
