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“You have to love dancing to stick to it. It gives you nothing back, no manuscript to store away, no paintings to show on walls, maybe hang up in museums, no poems to be printed and sold, nothing but that single fleeting moment when you feel alive“.
— Merce Cunningham
Things are getting serious now. You’re on your own, no teachers or parents, just the dry-mouthed certainty that everything about you will be noticed. Your height, face, figure, technique, behaviour, health, relationships, clothes, voice, what you say and don’t say — all of these will influence your career from now on. How do you deal with it?
Answer: make yourself valuable. Be the one who works hard, every time, all the time. Get to class early, warm up properly. Learn stuff fast, and retain it. Look after your body, feed it, water it, rest it, work your technique, do it all as well as you can. Make it a habit throughout your career. This is how you get to do the good stuff. This is professionalism.
“Follow your passion. Find that something that makes you want to work at it. Work hard. Nothing comes without hard work“.
— Tomas Schramek
Arrive on time, equipped for anything, with a notebook and pencil, and enough water, please. Find the stage door, check in with the porter. (He notices, every time you pass. One day the direction may need to find you, and he’s the one who will know where you are in the building, so introduce yourself, and make eye-contact.)
Nearby somewhere is the call-board with cast-lists, class and rehearsal times, performance schedules, costume fittings, all stuff you need to know. Check it every day, often; copy the schedule into your diary, or photograph it on your mobile.
There may be a meeting. Find out where — if necessary, ask someone. There could be speeches by various people, including perhaps the ballet director. Stay focused and attentive; you don’t want to look bored while your new boss is talking. He’s probably welcoming everyone, and you can’t really quarrel with that.
Somewhere is your dressing room and your place. You’ll be here a lot; you need secure storage and, even more importantly, nice people around you. Some people will stay where they have always been, but there will be free spaces left by former dancers. Check out your new colleagues (discreetly) – maybe there’s someone you instinctively like. Life will be easier if you get to share your dressing-room with friends. Your room may already have been predesignated, which somewhat limits your choice, but things can evolve throughout the season. Make the best of it, and see how you get on.
Be careful in the studio — some people can be very defensive. Professionals often have a special place at the barre where they like to stand, so if there’s a wonderful spot at the front, better not go there. It’s probably someone’s private territory, and people soon become huffy if they feel invaded. Find somewhere less desirable and ask if this space is free. Most dancers have been there and are sympathetic; they’ll help you. (Try sometimes to change tactfully to a different place for class — it may help your technique).
“Ballet is a riddle of means and ends“.
— Gelsey Kirkland
At school you could be in real trouble for wearing leg-warmers. Today, though, some dancers look like rough sleepers. Many people dress very strangely for class. Arctic thermal slipper-boots, shawls, hats, lumpy, shapeless garments, — you shudder to think of the fury this would have provoked at school. You’ve always been told that proper training kit is part of your work, technique, professionalism, moral probity, almost part of you. You’ll just have to get used to this new look. Gradually, the layers of muffling camouflage will peel off; many ballet-masters want legs, feet and bodies from a certain point at the barre onwards. Best not to wear pyjamas or shell-suits in class, unless you really need them. Certainly they help conserve body heat in your warmup, but they’ll have to go eventually, so get ‘em off a.s.a.p.
Classes may be split up among several different locations, according to category. Check where you’re supposed to be — you don’t want to invade the principals’ training session. When the person taking the class arrives, introduce yourself politely, explaining that you are new here. Ballet masters and mistresses like to know names, so make it easy for them.
As class moves into the centre, find a place to work without getting in anyone’s way. Be right on the steps and the musicality. Dance it all full out; find things in it to enjoy. The style may be new; you may not even like it, but you’ve got to live with it. Don’t show disapproval; this is your life throughout this contract, so stay on it, all the way through. Some people might leave early for costume fittings, rehearsal, meetings, appointments, injury or illness. All of these are valid. Careful, though — don’t you ever slope off out of indolence or boredom. I’ve been a ballet-master — I can tell you. Dancers who do that suffer early retirement. It gets noticed, it gets talked about, and they disappear at the end of the season. Don’t let that be you.
“It is not so much upon the number of exercises, as the care with which they are done, that progress and skill depend“.
— Auguste Bournonville
After class there will usually be a short break. Use it to refuel in the canteen — nothing large, something to keep you going until lunch-time. Now is when warm clothing would be useful – also footgear so that you don’t have to traipse around in ballet slippers. Drink some water as well — you work more efficiently when hydrated. Be back before rehearsal starts; you don’t want to be holding everyone up.
At lunch, establish social contact with your colleagues. Ask some dancers if you can sit with them (or they might invite you to). Among the new intake is someone like you, inexperienced, unsure, and nervous. By all means share your uncertainties with a fellow-sufferer — try also to find someone who’s been there longer, to show you the ropes. Friendships in the company are essential to survival. With friends, this new place will be a lot safer and easier to enjoy.
Quite soon, lunch will be over; time for changing clothes, toilet-break, rehydration, hair — and back punctually to the studio. You can’t start dancing after 45 minutes of sitting around; get warm again and stay that way, even if it means muffling up while you wait.
Write down the choreography, legibly and logically. Date it, keep it safe — do this every day. If there’s no time, do it after rehearsal, or when you get home, or before bed; by morning you’ll have forgotten something important.
And then suddenly it’s done, and your first professional working day is, unbelievably, over. You’re tired now, head full of steps, body sore and sweaty. Take time to cool down. A little gentle stretching, a lot of water, meditation – these will help you survive till tomorrow morning. A shower would ease the aches and pains, and give your head a well-deserved rest — do it before leaving, don’t go outside all sticky and sweaty, with your pores wide open. When you’re done, dry your hair and wrap up. Put something around your throat – there’ll be a temperature gradient as you leave the building. You’re tired and your immune system needs back-up. You have to stay well — you’ve got your first professional performances coming up (we’ll look at that in the next post).
Lock up, leave the dressing-room key with the porter, check the call-board again. Pick up copies of whatever notices and schedules have been given out, then off you go. Do your shopping, and go home to sort out everything you’ve learnt today.
“Artists lead unglamorous daily lives of discipline and routine, but their work is full of passion. Each has a vision and feels responsibility for that vision.“
— Merrill Brockway
At home there’ll be things to do. Unless you own limitless amounts of practice gear, try to keep on top of the laundry every day. Eat early enough (something sensible, so that you don’t to go to bed on a full stomach). Have a little protein and lots of vegetables, preferably green, leafy, and raw. If you cook them, steam them lightly, don’t boil all the good stuff away. Go easy on the carbs. They’re useful at lunchtime — they provide short-term energy, but you don’t need that before bed. If they stay in your system overnight, they metabolise into the components of stored body-fat.
Sleep beckons, and you need seven or eight hours. Leave your television, tablet, phone, computer and electronics turned off. Your room should be dark, not too warm, and very quiet. Put everything out of your mind for the moment, and just… relax.
“The world of dance is a charmed place. Some people like to inhabit it, others to behold it; either way it is rewarding“.
— Margot Fonteyn
And suddenly, it’s morning. You know how long you need to get to the theatre, you’ve set your alarm clock, and you’re up in good time. You packed your practice-bag last night, didn’t you? Good idea – less hassle this morning. Your water content will have dropped overnight — you lose fluid while sleeping (breathing, perspiration) as well as passing it through your system. Drink enough now to replace the deficit — not fruit juice, it’s full of sugar, without even the redeeming feature of fruit fibre. Milk is good (unless you’re lactose-intolerant, in which case use lactose-free substitutes). Breakfast should provide carbs, protein and healthy fats (yes, there are such things, and they’re essential).
You’re rested and refreshed, you’ve got enough water and your notes from last night, and you can’t wait to get back to work. Let’s go for it!
Feel like dancing?
“Ballet is important and significant — yes. But first of all, it is a pleasure“.
— George Balanchine
© Jeremy Leslie-Spinks
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