#pointework

[never-wake-up]

Saying Anna Pavlova is a bad ballet dancer is like saying Shakespeare can't write. obviously the technique isn't following the 21st century trends but they're still considered the best in their field for a reason

[daffodil--lament]

every time I see people complaining about how hard it is to do anything in heels I'm like what like it's hard

[golbincat]

Me after doing a 6 hr dress rehearsal and getting home at 10

[ballet-symphonie]

I need to rant somewhere: Catherine Pollack wrote this on her instagram: LIKE WHAT THE FFFFFF. The irony is that she posted videos of Khiteeva dancing BEAUTIFULLY alongside this.

A memorable matinee performance of “Raymonda” took place on March 15. First, there were more than twenty debuts in roles ranging from principal to secondary and character parts. Second, and unfortunately, A. Ermakov was injured during his variation. Another factor, in my opinion, was the accumulated stress caused by his many years of being (and there’s no other word for it) exploited as the company’s tallest and strongest male dancer, tasked with lifting larger female soloists. Instead of getting into shape themselves, these dancers relied on his exceptional partnering abilities. He repeatedly risked his health by lifting performers of weight categories that, by definition, should not exist in classical ballet (though this doesn’t entirely apply to the debuting ballerina). Before long, the tall prima ballerinas of the Mariinsky will have no partner to dance with, because these female soloists simply cannot lose weight.

By the way, Andrei “jumped into” the production, replacing T. Askerov, with whom A. Khiteeva had been preparing her debut (Timur withdrew a couple of days prior). I must commend Alexandra’s resilience and resourcefulness: having lost her partner on stage, she instantly adapted and filled the sudden gap in Jean de Brienne’s coda with an improvised repeat of her own coda using passé relevé—at an incredible tempo and with aplomb. Bravo! In the current climate, stress tolerance is in high demand; the company needs ballerinas it can depend on.

All the same, A. Khiteeva’s inclusion in “Raymonda” is contentious for reasons I’ve already discussed in my notes. Her artistic type is more ingénue than Grand Dame, and her access to the lead roles in “Swan Lake,” “La Bayadère,” and “Raymonda” was justifiably restricted, primarily due to her ballet and physical attributes—her stocky figure and proportions.

“The role of Kitri can be assigned to a highly agile ballerina�� But to dance Odette and Odile or Raymonda, a ballerina must have a slender figure, ‘singing’ arms, and long legs. Dancers with a squat figure are not suitable for these roles…,” writes choreographer R.V. Zakharov, and I share his opinion. To be continued…

I thought on the whole, Khiteeva danced very well, especially given the last-minute partner switch. Khiteeva has a lovely presence, vintage port de bras and elegant, restrained classical lines and I've read numerous comments saying her persona isn't done justice on the video. I know Khiteeva is not the most traditional adagio dancer but I was blown away. The dream adagio variation is stunning, smooth, and calm and the details of her port de bras are unmissable. Not to mention, her reprisal of the coda, when Ermakov had gotten injured literally just minutes before, takes nerves of steel (and iron calves).

My main criticisms with her lie in the wedding variation, her legs just look a little shot and you can tell. I thought she looked a bit tired and this affected her upper body and epaulement as well, which was gorgeous for most of the ballet. There was wobbly pointework and some clunky and imprecise pas de bouree. This variation is deceptively difficult because it's so simple and your mistakes are so easily visible, and you have to dance it at the end of a very long ballet. Khiteeva has some progress to make in terms of her stamina for a full-length ballet, especially one as intense as Raymonda but I thought this was a very solid debut.

Regarding Pollack's complaints about on 'overweight' ballerinas. Khiteeva's body type, while not as slender as some of the other Mariinsky dancers, resembles a lot of dancers in major European and American companies. I'm not going to name names but look at some of the top principals at the Royal, Dutch National, and even Paris Opera for instance. Of course, all of the women are in ridiculous shape, but few are as rail thin as many of the Russians, this doesn't affect their ability to dance or portray particular characters in ballet. This is separate from talking about typecasting or technical abilities.

And while I don't disagree that Ermakov is overworked, telling the women that they need to diet to extremes is just not the solution. Google says Ermakov is 195 cm, at that height, he's going to be responsible for dancing with the tallest women in the company. Mariinsky knows what dancers they have employed- and they have a lot of tall, long-legged women. They're not suddenly going to weigh (nor should they) the same as shorter dancers. There is also not an actual 'definition' of a magic weight that a professional dancer has to weigh. I'm sure Pollack is referring to the VBA regulations but those are incredibly stringent, (girls over 50kg are often not allowed to be lifted) and have been consistently tied to eating disorders and also are structured for students going through puberty, not fully grown women. I know for a fact that these are certainly not followed in the professional world. Certainly, there is pressure to be in shape and to be thin, but different bodies carry weight differently and there is a growing acceptance of dancers looking like women and not like toothpicks, especially in the West. Case in point, I weigh more than 50kg, I'm dancing pas de deux, classical and contemporary on stage with a prominent theater, as do many of my colleagues. So much about safe, effective lifts is about technique, coordination and trust, not just about a number on the scale.

The bigger issue, which Pollack makes no mention of is that Ermakov does not have enough help. Among the principal men, Kimin and Stepin haven't been cast with the tallest women, only Askerov can really chip in. Considering the first soloists, Belyakov is useful but Capitane is not tall enough, Korneyev and Konovalov are not the most stable partners, Sergeev is aging out of big classical roles and Zverev's stage presence is frequently lackluster. The second soloists have a lot of young guys, who are slowly developing but have limited repertoires at the moment. I think Malyshev and Baibordin have a lot of potential, but I'm not sure either of them has danced a principal role in a full-length ballet. They can't be go to, pinch replacements with their lack of experience. This is one consequence of MT being so slow to develop their younger men, it means that people like Ermakov and Askerov have more intense workloads and are more vulnerable to injury. Now I wish the MT management did more to combat that, if they want to continue to hire so many tall, lanky women, I wish they would be more proactive about hiring men and continuing to look outside VBA for talent.

[crowttore]

@mewnbuns it's back! It's revised! There's a little more >:3

Contents: conductor!sunday x dancer!reader, fluff, established relationship, 1.3k

"Sunday?" Keeping a note of amusement out of your voice was impossible, a small smile on your lips despite the sorrowful tones emanating from the piano.

Unsurprisingly, he didn't seem to have heard you, nor noticed that your movements had halted. A perfect mirror of your own poise, Sunday's back was straight and his shoulders relaxed- a far cry from the tension that had permeated his being when you first met.

Oh well, there was no point in interrupting him just yet.

Instead, you took the time to adjust both your chiffon skirt and the elastics holding your pointe shoes in place. The ribbons would have to be sewn on before tonight, but that was a minor problem compared to the one baring his soul in the corner.

No matter how many times you saw it, the occasional flutter of his wings when he lost himself to the music never failed to make your heart leap.

His name left your lips once more, tentative and soft, still unwilling to pry him from whatever tranquility he had attained.

The choreography had been burned into your mind years ago, having spent hours watching the older girls rehearse, trained as part of the corps de ballet, watched as a common member of the audience. So much time in preparation of portraying Odette's terrible betrayal and death.

You refused to count the amount of times Sunday had been put through evaluating if "my expression looks pained enough".

Your shins were tired from the constant pointework, only making your guilt at having coerced Sunday into rehearsing with you, knowing there was realistically nothing left to do but hope the stage lights and self imposed pressure wouldn't stun you.

This time, it was Sunday's voice that had been tinged with amusement, "Getting nervous again?"

He even had the audacity to smile, making you huff a little as you rolled your sore ankles, "No.. But you're playing too fast."

The way he straightened a little further, eyes widening almost imperceptibly should be criminal for how your throat tightened.

"Ah, apologies," he cleared his throat, looking off to the side as you approached, "I must've gotten carried away."

His hands flexed, a small sigh escaping him as you took them into your own, running a thumb across the back of his hand while sitting down beside him.

"It's fine, I suppose your inability to keep your eyes open while playing is the reason you became a conductor instead," you couldn't help but chuckle, hearing the rustle of feathers as he no doubt tried to hide his face.

"You know that's not the case..."

"Am I really such a horrid Odette that you'd rather not look?" You'd barely gotten out the quip before Sunday's head had turned, nearly giving you a mouth full of feathers in the process.

"Don't," his whisper sounded almost pained, retracting a hand to cup your cheek instead, "I hate to hear you speak that way. We can cover the mirrors if they bother you-"

"I was joking, Sunday," nimble fingers twitched against your cheek, embarrassment and relief equally clear in the sigh that left him. "It's not the mirrors bothering me."

It stung to admit even though he already knew, your soul always bared to that golden gaze.

"If the maître de ballet believes you're ready to portray Odile, then you must trust in that judgement and in yourself," you leaned into his touch, relishing the brief pause as he kissed your eyelids, "remember how you declared at our first lesson that you would be the swan princess when you grew up? There's no way around doing both roles."

You couldn't help but snort in amusement at the memory, both your own childish bravado and- "Don't forget that I wanted you there with me as my prince.."

Both of you fell silent, the wound still too fresh. It might never heal entirely.

Sunday slipped an arm around your waist, the usual disdain for dirtying himself tossed aside (almost, you did catch a small hiss when he made contact with your sweaty back). Despite everything, you couldn't help but smile a little, carefully dodging his wing to rest upon his shoulder.

"With how easy you made the pas the quatre look last year, Odile should be no challenge. Especially with how much you've improved."

Knowing it was a childish protest, you couldn't help the little grumble that escaped. "Four little swans don't have to do thirty-two fouettés..."

Sunday turned to brush his lips against the shell of your ear, "they don't get any princes either."

A small laugh escaped you as you stood, rolling your shoulders in tandem with his, so used to being in tune.

"From the top then."

The hard leather soles of your pointe shoes clacked against the vinyl floors as you quickly got into position, flicking your wrists with a grin, "Keep your eyes on me this time."

A smile twitched at the corners of his lips, "I wouldn't dream of looking away."

How were you supposed to get home? Hell, it didn't even feel like you'd be able to get changed. Getting your hands up to remove the headpiece had been enough of a challenge that you'd slumped back into your chair immediately after. That was ten minutes ago.

It had never really occurred to you just how much more movement soloists had in the choreography. You supposed it this was why having two casts to rotate between was essential. Aeons above, there was no way you were getting out of bed tomorrow.

Provided you actually made it home to your bed.

Despite it all, you couldn't help but close your eyes and smile, the heavy exhaustion mixed with warmth and satisfaction left in the wake of adrenaline. The faint scent of the bouquet of roses you'd received on stage still clung to the costume. A shame you had to return the flowers so they could be reused.

It wasn't until the door opened that you opened your eyes, immediately regretting not turning off the sharp lights lining the mirror.

"You'll get cold," as expected, Sunday sounded weary as well, his hands trembling slightly as he draped his suit jacket around your shoulders.

"Sorry, didn't mean to keep you waiting, I just gotta-" you gestured vaguely at yourself, "find the energy to change. Think I'll go straight home and sleep, so no need to wait."

What you hadn't expected was the way Sunday kneeled before you, worry etched onto those delicate features your mind always tried to overlay onto your dance partners. How cruel it was that his face was always so clearly visible from the stage. His eyes always on you with the same look as now.

"It was a stunning performance, I do hope you are proud of yourself." You could almost hear the unspoken 'I am' in his soothing tone.

"Yeah yeah... Nothing compared to your conducting, surely people couldn't tear their eyes from those big arm movements," the small flush that crept along his cheekbones.

Any further clever remarks died in a groan as the tight satin ribbons came undone, the shoes pulled off shortly after. Your eyes closed in bliss when Sunday's fingers rubbed at the ball our your foot, tension slowly bleeding from the muscles.

"You should've been on stage with me.."

Sunday sighed, pressing a kiss to your calf, "To be a prince fooled by someone masquerading as you?" The earnestness of those words had your fingers moving to tangle in his hair, a soft huff escaping you as he slowly moved further between your legs. "I'd rather have you here instead."

Hsr masterlist

[confessions-official]

If the premise is interesting enough, i can overlook any mistake in fanfic, bad orthograph, bad grammar, ooc characterization, whatever. But if you choose include a ballet metaphor/comparison, that shit better be accurate or it will break me out of the story completely which is so silly.

no the nutcrackers don't topple over each other in the nutcracker where did that come from there is only one nutcracker. no that man would NOT be on pointe. not in traditional classical ballet. You're thinking of contemporary ballet at the least and even then it's rare i'm 99% sure you got the wrong name because this step does not at all look like what you described. Pointework does NOT feel like flying it hurts like a BITCH

i love the misspellings in the ballet technical words though they give me life <3 so cute keep at it

 

[balletadventures]

new pointe shoes update!

i got fitted for new pointe shoes this weekend and i have finished sewing and breaking them in (not by much because i still like them kinda hard). heres a side by side of my old shoes next to my new ones (before ive sewn them):

so yeah. something new

now the work commences into getting back into pointework after 3 weeks (it feels like forever) and hopefully i will be able to dance sugarplum for my school project (which i am still trying to do. im too far in to stop now unfortunately)

[miss-mollys-ballet-blog]

if you don’t mind sharing how was your class at the royal opera house? that seems like such an amazing experience! 🩰💕

IT WAS SO COOL!!!!! We got to go in through the stage door and walk around the opera house itself in the hallways that our favorite dancers go. I was in absolute awe the entire freaking time. The studio we were in was so beautiful with the skylight, the floor was kind of sticky but I would imagine it would be great for pointework. The teacher was fantastic and I got a compliment and corrections from her, so that always feels good. It was definitely too short, a good ballet class needs to be at least an hour and a half, and I didn't want to leave lol.

It was also amazing to finally meet an online friend who knows ballet so we could talk to each other about it without having to explain everything lol.

Basically it was a really fantastic time and I didn't want to end.

[mocktortis]

doing pointework is fun doing pointework is fun doing pointework is fun doing pointework is fun doing pointework is fun doing pointework is fun doing pointework is fun doing pointework is fun doing pointework is fun doing pointework is fun doing pointework is fun doing pointework is fun doing pointework is fun doing pointework is fun doing pointework is fun doing pointework is fun (trying to convince myself)

[jasmariswonderland]

Sister of the Sun ~ VilxOC

Synopsis: A follow-up to Danica's PE uniform vignette, What Do You Think You're Doing. As Danica prepares for another one of Vil's "tests", she finds herself grappling with the pressure of living up to his expectations as well as grief for the loss of her primary support. And a legacy she feels she will never live up to. Timeline for this chapter is mid October.

A/N: This is chapter 7/16 of my VilDani anthology Fairest After All. If it isn't obvious yet, I'm writing these chapters out of order as inspiration comes.

Pairings: 👑/🦢

Word Count: 5842

Warnings: This chapter explores more of Danica's past and her complex emotions regarding dance and her desire to live up to her sister's legacy. So a lot of angst.

~~~

The music stopped and Danica made her final pose in the mirror. In an opposite corner of the room, Fiona watched her, giving her sister a slow and sincere applause. 

“Beautiful. That was much better,” she said. “You’re adapting well to the pointe shoes. And your form was flawless as always.”

“Thanks, Sis,” Danica replied, smiling at her sister through the mirror. “But are you sure I’m not playing it safe with such a simple variation?”

“You’ve been en pointe for barely a year, so in this case, its wise to focus on precision rather than complexity. A more advanced performance might be challenging on you.”

“But…”

“And besides, it’s not like you’re completely ‘playing it safe,’” Fiona smiled. “You’ve practically mastered the Harvest Queen variation. I’d say you have a great chance of winning your division. The music and choreography are both very elegant and sweet. Just like you.”

At this, a crimson warmth washed over Danica. Fiona had been helping her prepare for a ballet competition, the first she would take part in en pointe. As such, the younger girl was determined to take first place; nothing less would do for her. Over the last two weeks, the sisters worked together on a performance the elder was certain would win. Yet in her determination, Danica couldn’t help but feel that the dance Fiona had selected for her might not impact the judges in the way she hoped. 

Initially, Danica wished to perform the White Swan variation. A piece that had enchanted her when Fiona first danced it, sparking her love for ballet. But for all of its sentimental value, the White Swan was also an incredibly difficult variation. Naturally, Fiona advised her sister against it. Instead, Danica would be competing with the Harvest Queen variation, one that was still impressive, but not as technically trying on a young dancer new to pointework.

“You’ve worked so hard, sweetheart,” Fiona went on. “But you don’t want to overdo it. Trust me, there will be plenty of time for you to grow into your talent, and plenty of time for you to become a beautiful white swan.”

“I guess I’ll just have to start out as a harvest queen,” Danica replied with a little laugh, taking a seat on the floor. 

“And what a delightful harvest queen you’ll be!” 

Fiona moved to the other side of the room, sitting next to her sister. After helping Danica remove her shoes, she placed her arm around her.

“They’ll be closing the studio soon. We’ve been here almost the whole day,” she said. “How about before we head home, I treat my little harvest queen to some ice cream?”

Danica couldn’t help but smile as well. Even if she was still unsure about her performance, she wasn’t likely to turn down more time around her sister. These were some of the moments she loved most and in little more than a year, Danica would realize more than ever just how valuable Fiona's love was for her. And how the loss of it would shape her for years to come. 

~~~

Pomefiore Dorm - Danica's Room

The soft melody of Danica’s music box danced through the air, rousing her from her slumber and the bittersweet memories of times long gone. A familiar, salty taste covered her mouth and even with her eyes closed, she could feel the remnants of tears streaked down her cheeks. For a while, her body remained still as opened her eyes and stared at the wall as it slowly brightened with the early morning sunlight. Each ray of light intensifying the knot of anxiety about the day ahead.

The days following her last encounter with Vil had blurred together, speeding by in a rush of introspection and realizations.Rolling over on her side, Danica thought more about their conversation and the widening distance between her initial expectations and the current reality. She’d entered NRC with the desire to remain unnoticed, to avoid the kind of visibility that had once isolated her among her peers. But while she held this hope, something in her was shifting, and it was her dorm leader that had triggered it. 

It began soon after her arrival at NRC when Vil learned of Danica’s interest in fragrance crafting. His harsh, disparaging remarks juxtaposed by him taking her to Pomefiore’s secret laboratory and then insisting on giving her a basic potionology lesson.Then came her dorm concert, singing in front of other students to prove her fitness to compete in the VDC next February. And now, if she were to continue her dance practices in the ballroom, she’d have to show both Vil and Rook her ballet progress today. 

All of this flew in the face of her desire for invisibility. And yet, as time passed, she was beginning to wonder if invisibility was really a realistic goal. After videos of her dorm concert went viral on Magicam, though there were cruel comments, a lot of the feedback had been positive. Her involvement in the light music club introduced her to a vibrant circle of friends like Cater, Kalim, and Lilia. In them, she found a like minded group of friends who encouraged her pursuits, with Cater in particular going out of his way to help her with her issues with stage fright. Far from resenting her, Danica’s clubmates seemed to appreciate her for who she was as well as her talent.  

And more importantly, the feedback from her dorm leader had been surprisingly good. She didn’t understand why Vil seemed so adamant about pushing her to do things out of her comfort zone. But at the same time, she could feel a budding sense of confidence growing within her and whatever Vil’s motives were, she had to thank him for the hand he had in it. And as much as she did not want to admit it, in addition to a shift in her confidence, Danica could also feel a shift in her feelings for him. 

But regardless of her new success finding her confidence or whatever kindness Vil was showing her, what he was asking of her today was different. 

I wish…no, I need to stop this, Danica thought sadly, forcing herself to forget her wish that her sister could be with her now. Such a wish would never be granted. What she really wanted, she acknowledged, was the advice she always gave which never failed her. How she should approach today's challenge and if it would be enough. 

But Fiona is gone. She’s gone and I have to live up to her example, reach her level. I want to be perfect, but I’m not perfect now. 

And it was that lack of perfection that gave Danica reason to dread the beginning of her day. Just the thought of Vil’s judgment was heavy enough that she felt that she was struggling against an invisible force just to sit up on her bed. Taking a deep breath in, she finally managed to pull herself up and look at her phone. It was six o clock, she would be meeting with her dorm leaders in two hours. It wasn’t much time but enough for her to at least get in some last minute warmups. 

As she finally stretched out her legs and placed her feet on the floor, the gentle sound of her music box caught her attention. It offered a brief moment of comfort, even if Danica could not recall turning it on the previous night. Had she done so and forgotten? The room was just as she had left it, yet the air felt subtly different, as if the lingering presence of another was woven into the gentle notes floating through the air.

~~~

The ballroom, once a sanctuary of confidence for Danica, now felt oppressively tense, as if her anxiety had infused the very air around her. Facing her dorm leaders, who sat poised in a far corner, she half-wished she could abandon this place forever if it meant escaping the persistent dread gripping her heart.

She greeted Vil and Rook cordially, hoping that her face wouldn’t betray any of her current feelings. “I’d…like to apologize again for sneaking in here when I should have been sleeping. It was presumptuous of me to…”

“Once again, Little Potato,” Vil spoke up. “My issue was not you taking time to practice, only your timing.”

“But hopefully, you are now completely rested, having returned to your normal sleeping schedule,” Rook added kindly. “Indeed, the radiant glow has returned to your complexion.” 

“Thank you,” she replied, “Yes, I definitely feel better now. And…I think…I hope you two will approve of what I showcase today. Vil-san wanted me to give an example of my ballet skills. Well, I hope this will be acceptable.”

Taking another deep breath, Danica pulled out her phone and scrolled through some musical tracks that she kept on her phone for practice purposes before finally finding the one she was looking for. A great risk, she thought, but might reap the greatest reward if successful. At first, she wasn’t entirely sure what Vil would want to see since most of her practice sessions were rather mundane. It seemed to make more sense to do something that showcased her talent overall. Something that would make an impact, exactly what she wanted when she and Fiona prepared for that competition all those years ago. 

She had only danced the White Swan variation twice before, always in the presence of her teachers and never before a proper audience. As Fiona had stated, it was incredibly difficult even at her advanced level. Danica couldn’t expect to perform it on stage for some years to come. Nevertheless, that’s what she chose for today. The dance that inspired her passion in the first place, the one that brought her sister so much acclaim as a ballerina. Acclaim that Danica hoped she could be worthy of. 

“Ah, le danse de la reine des cynges,” Rook smiled as the first notes echoed through the room. “How perfect for our cher petit cygne.” 

His words offered some much needed encouragement as she began on a sour note, cursing herself as her leg made a kicking movement rather than the smooth rond de jambe that was the first step. Her second rond de jambe landed property but the knowledge of her initial error stayed with her. One error too many, the first, and her last. 

Remember how Fiona did it, breathe, you aren’t eleven anymore. 

She made a point of not directing her gaze at either of her dorm leaders, not wanting distraction and to focus on maintaining control through the soft yet measured choreography. Meanwhile Vil and Rook watched her with vastly different opinions. Rook was captivated, as he often was with anything beautiful, taken with Danica’s technical skill as she brought the White Swan to life before his eyes. For his part, Vil was also impressed, but there was something about the way Danica moved that did not sit well with him. 

While he couldn't deny her technical excellence—perhaps even conceding she was a better dancer than singer—something about her rendition troubled him. Her movements were flawless, but they were almost sterile. She played the part of the delicate swan queen well, but nothing stood out to him as particularly meaningful. He sensed her anxiety, not as a deliberate expression of the swan’s plight. Indeed, seemed to Vil that Danica wasn’t really dancing as the swan queen at all. Rather she was dancing an interpretation of the swan queen, based on the portrayal of someone else. 

The tempo increased and Danica glided across the room, ending the variation with several, controlled bouree turns before striking her final pose. A wave of relief immediately crashed upon her and she took several breaths that she just realized she was holding in her chest. It was perfect, she thought, not counting her single error at the beginning. Silence fell over the ballroom and she could hear her own heartbeat as the rush started to fade. 

Normally such silence would give her cause for concern but at that moment she had none. After all, she made no further errors and her timing and control were impeccable. Whatever her initial fears, she had performed well. Surely, Vil and Rook would be pleased. 

“That was my third time performing that variation, was it good?” She inquired softly as she turned to finally face them. “I hope I was able to meet your expectations.” 

“Ahhh mon doux petit cynge!” Rook exclaimed, his enthusiasm nearly propelling him from his chair as he applauded her. “You bring the White Swan to life with such incredible majesty! Every move was perfect, were I the Prince, your tender grace would capture my soul in an instant! Beaute, full marks!”

“I…I…oh, Rook-san…” 

Danica couldn’t conceal the way his words spread a warm red tint that spread over her cheeks, swelling her heart with joy. A giddy smile nearly broke free upon her face, until she noticed Vil’s more subdued expression and felt her anxiety return. 

“Thank you, Rook-san,” she murmured graciously, turning to her dorm leader. “Vil-san, do you have anything to say about what you just saw?”

“Hmmmm.”

Vil gazed at her for several minutes, still with the same subdued expression. In his mind he was gathering his thoughts, finding the words to describe both his approval and his displeasure. 

“Vil-san?”

“Yes, I was correct. You are very talented, Danica,” he began. “You danced the White Swan with absolute control, almost to perfection. But perfection is not just about control because in your attempt to execute perfection, your performance lacked all authenticity.”

“I…” At this, Danica felt her stomach drop. “Wh…what?”

“Come now, Roi du Poison…”

“Your movements were precise but sterile,” Vil ignored Rook’s attempts at intervention and continued cutting into Danica’s performance. “And your hollow portrayal left a lot to be desired. It was almost as though you weren’t portraying the White Swan at all, rather, a version of the White Swan set by someone else.”

“Someone else?” 

Her heart raced because of course, Vil was correct. Her performance today was intended to mirror that of Fiona’s White Swan. As she moved, her mind replayed the countless hours spent watching her sister embody the role, each movement and pause deeply ingrained in her memory. 

She had attempted to capture not just the technique but the very essence Fiona had lent to the White Swan, striving to mirror each nuance that had once captivated audiences.A dance so beautiful, so exquisite, that Danica felt if she could emulate it, even a little, then it would surely impress Vil. It would be a true testament to her progress and maybe a sign that she could possess the power he so vividly described when expressing his admiration of dancers in the past. 

It was a rather ironic state of affairs. So many times their parents had expressed their belief that Danica’s ballet ambitions were simply an attempt to emulate Fiona. But her love of dance was legitimate and it was only at that moment that Danica could say their accusations were truly her intention. She fixed her mouth to begin an explanation, but no words came. Only a small, broken sound betrayed the whirlwind of voices that began to assault her heart. 

“She’s certain to follow in Fiona’s footsteps when she’s older.”

“The director only gives her so many privileges cause her sis is the top principal! Such a wannabe!”

“In her enthusiasm to match her sister, we sometimes worry that she’s being overzealous…”

“Danica? Did you hear me?” Vil’s voice, though critical, mercifully pulled her from her turmoil. 

“I…yes, Vil-san I did,” she lowered her gaze, suddenly feeling too ashamed to look at him as she continued with, “it’s true, I had another dancer’s interpretation of the White Swan in mind as I was dancing. Fiona Ledelle, you see, she is…was my…”

“Yes, of course!” Rook beamed, ever positive. “Fiona Ledelle, the finest prima ballerina of her generation! A legend within the history of the Pyroxene Royal Ballet. Your late elder sister.”

“Yes, all those things are true,” Danica felt herself shrinking more and more by the minute, weighed down by her sister’s towering legacy. “Fiona was my sister, and she’s also my greatest inspiration. But…”

“Inspiration and emulation are two completely different things, Little Potato.” Vil shook his head. “You once told me you are your own person, removed from your family’s name. What I just saw did not speak to that statement in the slightest.”

“Vil-san!”

“Though my promise still stands,” he went on. “You may now use the ballroom for your practice whenever it isn’t otherwise occupied. I’m pleased to see that our future lead VDC performer is so skilled. However…Danica, raise your head and look at me when I’m speaking to you!”

“Y…yes, Sir! I’m…” his sudden harsh tone surprised her and she struggled to bite back an apology. 

“However, I hope she will soon learn to find what makes her skilled, removed from any legacies she may carry. Do you understand?”

At this, Danica nodded. She knew she ought to say something. But once again, Vil’s words had rendered her speechless. Her entire body burned with his critique, too similar to other disparaging remarks from her past that she was all too familiar with. 

“…removed from any legacies she may carry…”

“Really, she still has such a long way to go before she can even consider being on Fiona’s level.” 

No…no…I’m nothing like Fiona….

Whatever kind words Rook had for her were overshadowed by Vil’s unintentional reminder of a fact she already knew. That she was still nowhere near as gifted as her sister. Whatever power her dancing possessed continued to elude her and Vil’s observations were proof of it. This was bad. She was already in a highly emotional state, but now she felt almost overwhelmed by them. 

Before she could make a further fool of herself, Danica suddenly bolted out of the room. Leaving her dorm leaders as dumbstruck as they were concerned. But she could not wait for their response, tears were already flowing down her cheeks and she would not allow Vil to see them for anything in the world. 

She had to find a place to herself, now. It didn’t matter where and soon, a quiet corner offered her the perfect refuge for her pinned up frustration and heartache. 

I’m nothing like Fiona, I never will be. 

~~~

Away from their eyes, Danica pressed her face to her lap and began to sob. Meanwhile, Vil and Rook remained in the ballroom, still unsure what to make of what had just happened. Vil in particular felt a strong sense of unease at her distress. 

She was normally so poised and took critique with remarkable grace compared to others. When he commented on her attempts to craft her favorite perfume, Danica hadn’t cried or lamented her failure. Rather, she took his words as a challenge to improve and had done so. Even when he came across her nervously rehearsing for her dorm concert, though with minimal tears, she still managed to see the challenge through and performed beautifully. 

Clearly his words had struck a nerve with her and perhaps more alarmingly, Vil found himself genuinely concerned. Vil had lived most of his life under the glare of spotlight and was no stranger to such criticism. He himself offered it to his spudlings on a practically hourly basis and while they may have grumbled or lamented, it was ultimately for their own benefit. 

Even if it was harsh, every student in Pomefiore would eventually be better for it and Vil hoped that Danica would consider his words and they would help her come to understand her potential. Therefore, there was absolutely no reason for him to feel such pangs in his chest. 

“Why can’t I just be invisible?” 

Yet as he recalled the look of devastation in her eyes as she ran off, he wondered if his words could have carried stronger implications than he had intended. Why did she have to be like this? Such an infuriating feeling! 

“Your words are true,” said Rook, seeming to understand what his dorm leader was thinking. “But sharp wit often cuts deeper than expected. Almost like poison, wouldn’t you agree?” 

Vil, ignoring Rook’s double meaning, nevertheless considered his words. There was nothing necessarily bad about Danica’s dancing and he had only intended to critique her approach to the variation rather than her skills. He recalled his remarks, trying to decipher what could have been the triggering moment, inadvertently finding himself comparing the two sisters. And remembering a similar comment he often heard in regards to his own acting compared to another. 

His fists clenched behind his back before the bitter memory could fully take shape. Yes, Vil understood now, and he cursed himself realizing he might have planted a similarly detrimental seed with his remarks. Something that, for all of Danica’s infuriating quirks, she did not deserve. 

“Thank you, Rook,” he finally said. “That will be all for now.”

“What will you do about Danica?” Rook couldn’t help but ask. “She appeared quite distressed when she left. Perhaps we should have Sidonie check on her and…”

“Distressed or not, she will have to reflect on what I said if she ever hopes to improve in her craft,” Vil walked toward the door. “In fact, I’ll find her myself.”

Rook raised a curious eyebrow at Vil, but chose not to inquire further. For all of his harshness, Vil was a wise dorm leader and his judgment was noble, for the most part. Without another word, he passed by Vil and was the first to leave the ballroom. Once Vil was certain he was out of sight, he started on his next task of seeking out the heartbroken young swan. 

He found her huddled in a corner of the empty freshmen’s wing, not too far from her room, still in tears. Danica didn’t notice Vil’s presence and Vil chose not to make himself known right away. Allowing her the illusion of invisibility she often wished for a few moments more. 

“…nothing…” he heard her mummer, “…nothing like…Fiona.” 

This was more than enough for him and Vil crouched down to meet her level, clearing his throat to get her attention. Immediately her head popped out from her lap, eyes red and wide with embarrassment. 

“No, you are nothing like Fiona Ledelle,” he said painly. “You are nothing like her, because you are a completely different person.” 

This seemed to only make her feel even worse and she buried her face back into her knees, weeping and begging forgiveness for the unsightly display she was making of herself. Vil sighed. 

“Indeed this is a pitiful state of affairs,” Vil sighed. “One shouldn’t cry in public. At least have the decency to fully return to your room.” 

At this, Danica nodded but as she began to rise to her feet, Vil placed a hand on her shoulder. “But not yet, Little Potato, not before you wipe your face and answer my question.” 

Danica began pressing her hands to her eyes, but Vil tutted disapproval, handing her a tissue instead. Even going as far as to press it to her face himself. When she finally gained the courage to meet his gaze, she fully expected to be met with his fierce anger. But rather than anger, Vil surprised her by appearing concerned, irritated, but mostly concerned. 

“I’m…I’m sorry if I disappointed you,” she said once she was calmer. 

“Nevermind that,” he replied brusquely. “Here is my question, are you listening? I won’t repeat myself,” Danica nodded to show he had her attention. “Do enjoy dancing?”

This seemed like an odd question, but she nodded again. Vil followed this by asking if she aspired to dance professionally in the future. Again, Danica confirmed this with a quiet nod. Despite her anxieties, she did aspire to one day shine on the world stage. Fiona had planted that seed of ambition in her, but she was one of the few in her life that actually believed that she could. 

“One final question, Little Potato,” Vil continued. “Do you want to shine on the world stage for your own love of dance, because you want to share that love with the world, or do you simply want to dance exactly the same as your sister?”

Danica hesitated, her initial reaction was to say no. She didn’t just want to be like Fiona, at least, not completely. Her emotions regarding dance were layered and complex, even to her. It was a love she carried with her from her early childhood made stronger by the encouragement of her sister and how much she missed her. With dance, she could not only connect with Fiona’s spirit, but also find an outlet for all the other intricacies of her heart. Unfortunately, for all her love of dance, it was also a love Danica never felt she could fully embrace. 

Because she bore the Ledelle name, anything she did would inevitably bring comparisons with the other members of her family. And nowhere was this more clear than her desire to dance. The truth was, Danica had never really thought about what kind of dancer she could be free of Fiona’s legacy because it was something she had never been allowed to even consider. A fact that became all the more apparent in the years following her death. 

"Hmm, you seem unable to answer," Vil observed, his voice tinged with impatience as her silence stretched. "Very well, if words fail you, you'll express it in another way."

“I don’t understand,” Danica looked up at him, as he stood up. "What do you mean by—wait! Vil-san!"

“Come now,” he said, pulling her up off the floor. “You’ve been on the ground for too long, let’s return to the ballroom.” 

~~~

As they entered the ballroom, the silence of the vast space was palpable, and the fact that they were the only ones there did not escape Danica. Alone with Vil in the echoing hall, a mix of anticipation and anxiety churned within her. His stoic presence made the room feel even larger and more imposing than usual. He watched her carefully, ensuring her composure was restored before he spoke.

“I’d like to see you dance again. Tell me, which classical variations have you studied?”

Danica hesitated before answering, “Well, I’ve learned both of the main variations from Swan Lake. I…just did the white one but I could try…”

“No, not the Black Swan,” Vil swiftly interjected. “That wouldn’t suit you as you currently are.”

What does that mean? Something Danica wanted to ask, but held her tongue for the time being. 

“Have you learned any others?” He asked. 

“A few, how about the dance of the star-crossed maiden?”

“Also not suitable,” Vil dismissed again. 

“The little ash girl variation?”

“No, not that one either.”

“Oh, how about the harvest queen variation? I actually did that one for my first ballet competition and came in first place.”

“Commendable, but again, not suitable for this,” Vil closed his eyes thoughtfully. “How about…the variation of the sleeping princess? Have you learned that one?”

“The sleeping princess?” Danica’s brow furrowed slightly in concern. “Yes, just before coming to NRC I began learning that one. It’s one of my favorites actually. But…”

“Perfect!” Vil decided with a nod. “If that’s your favorite, that’s the one I wish to see.”

“But Vil-san!” Danica tried to intervene. “I’m still learning that one! It might not showcase my abilities as well as something I’m more familiar with.”

But Vil’s response was firm, allowing no place for argument. “That is the one I insist upon.”

“What’s wrong with the others I listed? Couldn’t I…?”

“What’s this, Little Potato? You dare question your dorm leader?” He took a step in her direction, his frown telling her what she already knew. She lowered her head, nodding in compliance. “That’s what I thought. Please proceed.”

Reluctantly, Danica retrieved her phone, found the instrumental track for the variation, and prepared herself. Vil took his place at the corner of the room, watching her with a critical eye that gradually softened as she began to dance. Immediately, he noted that her movements weren’t as precise as when she danced the White Swan. Her hesitations were more apparent, revealing her unfamiliarity with certain aspects of the choreography. 

However, while not nearly as polished, her dancing now took on more character. There was a genuine warmth in her portrayal of the princess bride relaying the story of the sleeping curse placed upon her. Her hollowness had given way to true expression and Vil even caught a smile or two between leaps and turns. He couldn’t help but smile as well, captivated by her performance that, while technically imperfect, was refreshingly heartfelt. 

This was the exact reason Vil  had selected this variation for her and the breakthrough he hoped for. Because the reason he was so taken with her performance now was because Danica was dancing for herself with no basis for comparison. With this variation, her love of dance was free with no legacy to live up to, no shadow for her to chase.  

The music stopped and Danica struck her final pose in the mirror. Vil rose from his chair, giving her a slow and sincere applause. 

“Excellent, Little Potato. You performed commendably.”

“Vil-san…”

She hesitated, her eyes meeting his in the mirror. She thought she detected a warmth in his smile, something genuine and approving. Turning to face him directly, she saw it wasn’t her imagination; the warmth was real and felt oddly familiar.

"I hope my errors weren’t too noticeable," she murmured, her voice tinged with self-doubt. "Like I said before..."

“Oh no, your errors were quite obvious,” he replied, his tone serious but not dismissive. "But don’t underestimate yourself—your dancing has a unique character that more than compensates for any technical shortcomings."

“Tha…thank you…I…” 

Danica found her gaze wandering, but when she brought her eyes back to Vil, she found him closer now, standing right before her. She couldn’t help but blush as there was a softness in his gaze that she was not used to seeing, even when he wasn’t scolding her. 

“Do you know why I wanted you to perform that variation in particular?” Vil asked. Danica thought for a moment, but couldn’t imagine why. Especially when there were other dances that would showcase her skills better. She shook her head, prompting a playful spark in his eyes. “I decided on that variation because in the time she was alive, Fiona Ledelle never danced that role.”

It was true, Danica thought, the realization striking deepy. Her sister had taken on countless roles in her ballet career but the sleeping princess wasn’t one of them. And when she thought about it further, the variations Danica had initially listed out were all roles Fiona had taken on in her lifetime. She was beginning to understand what Vil truly wanted. 

“I miss her so much…” she found herself whispering, suddenly hoping Vil wouldn’t hear her. But aloud, she added, “It's weird, she’s been such an inspiration but because of that, I’ve never really wondered what kind of performer I could be on my own.”

"That’s unfortunate," Vil responded firmly, "because when you win the VDC, it won't be as Fiona Ledelle’s sister. As your dorm leader, it’s my duty to help prepare you for such. But I cannot—and do not wish to—do the heavy work for you.”

Vil paused, allowing his words to sink in. Danica processed them, understanding slowly dawning on her. Lost in thought, she barely noticed when he began to walk towards the door. Her gaze followed him, a tumult of emotions swirling within her. As he turned back to look at her, she instinctively moved to follow, but he raised a hand, stopping her.

"This morning was a lot for you," Vil acknowledged. "And since it's Saturday, you have the ballroom to yourself for as long as you need it, provided it doesn’t interfere with other scheduled activities. Take this time. No one will disturb you. But while you're reflecting, Little Potato, remember this:”

His voice softened and he allowed himself a small smile. 

"Every artist  strives for perfection in their craft. You are no different. But I think it’s high time you define what perfection means for you. It would be such a waste to squander your gifts chasing the shadow of another."

With that, Vil finally exited the ballroom, leaving Danica alone with only her thoughts for company. Assured that she would now prioritize rest over relentless late night practice, his initial intention was to return to his room and catch up on some studies. And yet, something compelled him to linger in the hallway a few minutes longer. 

Driven by a curious impulse, he quietly pushed the door open just enough to glimpse inside. What he saw was Danica seated on the polished floor, her arms moving gracefully through the air as she softly hummed a melody to herself. Watching her brought back the same warmth he experienced watching her dance moments earlier. Along with a mix of other feelings he had been diligently suppressing. 

Intriguing as she was, Danica also managed to infuriate him in ways few others could. Yet, as he watched her now, he recognized that his frustration with her was not wholly her fault.

Danica was not capricious, nor was she secretive by design. What truly frustrated him was the clear vision he had of her potential—a potential that seemed overlooked by almost everyone in her life. Vil was fortunate to have always had his father’s support, but Danica, alone and still mourning her sister, seemed adrift. Uncertain of how to channel her passions without her primary source of encouragement. Or even how to process the grief. It wasn’t capriciousness that stunted her, but fear. 

For Danica, already so tenacious, achieving her own path in beauty would come from learning how to shine unapologetically. Not in the shadow of the resentment of others, not in the shadow of her sister, but within her own light. Though Vil felt it would be presumptuous to assume he could replace a sister’s love. At the same time, his duty as Pomefiore’s dorm leader compelled him to feel he at least owed her guidance on her journey. 

And as he continued to observe, the warmth in his heart mingled with admiration and a new protective resolve. Meanwhile, Danica, unaware of Vil’s presence, felt similarly enveloped by a sense of warmth that echoed from earlier thoughts. Ignited by the approving eyes of her dorm leader. The idea of visibility was a daunting one, but slowly, it was beginning to appeal to her despite herself. 

Indeed, invisibility seemed counterproductive to her goals and she knew deep down, it was not her desire to remain invisible. Not when the opposite meant being acknowledged by someone who not only inspired her, but truly believed in her as well. 

[dancewithmarynyc]

My latest #article for @danceinforma is live.

Achieving en pointe perfection: Dance tips for adults

https://www.danceinforma.com/2023/11/28/achieving-en-pointe-perfection-dance-tips-for-adults/

With interviews by @kathrynsullivankas

and @allieradice

You can find her classes @stepsonbroadway

#ballet #Dance #pointe #adultsenpointe #adultballetstudent #adultsdance #adultballerina #adultballetcommunity #pointework

[daffodil--lament]

Answering FAQ - November Edition

"Why are you always complaining about dance?"

- I'm somewhere in between a pre-professional and an amateur ballet dancer. I have been doing this since I could walk and technically long before that. It is my white whale and the only thing I care about and it's the reason I have kind of okay grades instead of really good grades in uni

"Why do you perform The Nutcracker before Christmas season?"

- idk. we always do it the week before Thanksgiving

"Didn't you hurt your foot last month"

- yeah lol I've been doing little-to-no pointework since the last week of October because I rolled my foot in battle scene rehearsal. I rested it for two weeks and it still hurt so I'm kinda just dancing on it rn, but not without dropping out of all my taxing pointe dances

"Are you literally waiting until just after Nutcracker to get a second opinion and more x-rays because you didn't want them to tell you you couldn't perform?"

- yeah

"Aren't you chronically ill?"

- yeah

"Didn't you wake up with the flu this morning, 12 hours before opening night?"

- yeah

"So you're gonna let the rest of your understudies step in for you right?"

- no LMAO? ive been rehearsing since september fuck this shit we ball. as long as im conscious ill be on that stage

[ballet-symphonie]

There's plenty of criticism for the young generations, the likes of Denisova, Sergeenkova (from BT), Khoreva, Ilyushkina (from MT), etc, and saying how they don't compare to the old(er) generations, Zakharova, Obratsova, Krystanova, Kaptsova,Novikova, Kondaurova... etc etc. So I'm wondering, how did the old generations do when they were new graduates around 20 years old? Were they having the same issues back then as these new dancers are having now (technical sloppiness? lack of artistry? lack of preparation for big roles?...) How do these young gen dancers compare to them when they were young?

The obvious comparison is Zakharova, this is the woman who was admitted directly into the graduating class at VBA and never spent a second in the corps. She has still set the record for speed and made principal at 18. Absolutely ridiculous. But then again, she came out of school looking like this. While she certainly didn't have the emotional depth and soulful lyricism that she developed later, she had beautifully sustained lines and nearly impeccable turnout.

Many of today's graduates have similar body types to her, but nowhere NEAR her precision or control of those extraordinarily long legs. The level of emotional depth perhaps wasn't quite there, but the technical proficiency is simply insane. But even then, that's her Nikiya at age 20...we've seen far worse in recent years.

Kondaurova is a totally different case. It's difficult to find old performance videos of her...likely because she wasn't doing anything that people deemed worthy of filming. She was not considered a prodigy at graduation, at 26 years old she was still a second soloist and it took her 12 years to get to prima- with some serious lobbying by her coaches and outside choreographers. Today's 'star' grads aren't fighting like Kondaurova. No one wanted to give her classical roles, she and her coach, then Chenikova had to battle for her to be given chances. It's maddening because we have 20-year-old first soloists and 22-year-old primas and no one bats an eye. Ratmansky was quite impressed with her, "She is more spontaneous on stage than most of her colleagues. And everything that often looks like improvisation is actually well rehearsed." That's a key difference between her and a lot of today's grads, she put in the work to appear so spontaneous and carefree- not to look technically perfect.

While there are minimal videos, I can definitely see how much she improved in the early years of her career. The clarity of pointework, stability of turnout, and general presence are much improved in the later video.

Krysanova is someone who I think had a well-paced career, but by today's pace, it looks like she was sleepwalking. She graduated BBA with a handful of prizes, and she had attention from the start. She did 3 solid years in the corps and then took another 5 years to get to prima under the detailed preparation of one of the Bolshoi's best coaches: Svetlana Adyrkhaeva. Again, Ratmansky pushed and praised her along with Osipova and she was a principal at 26- the youngest at the time. She was and continues to be, the go-to ballerina at BT for new choreographers, featured in premiere after premiere because everyone wants to harness her versatility, but that took time to develop. The older videos of her are quite good, but not mind-blowingly so in my opinion.

Obratzsova did indeed graduate to a big fuss and her star only continued to rise. She is similar to the current age of graduates, as she got loads of big roles early. By reading old reviews, there's pretty much an overwhelmingly positive consensus. She was a sensation to audiences with her Juliet, the youngest ever to dance it at MT, expertly guided by Ninel Kurgapkina. Her confidence and lightness was just irresistible, you couldn't not fall in love with her. From day one, she had the charm, the poise, and the style. Her presence was what got her roles, despite being a bit undersized. If she graduated today, I'm not sure she'd have the same opportunities. Similarly to Iliushkina, she won the gold medal at Moscow, and while reports suggest she went against administration in doing so, she proved that she could handle herself in a huge variety of repertoire. Only three years after graduating, people like Carla Fracci and Pierre Lacotte were creating work specifically for her, inside and outside of Mariinsky. This current young generation is definitely less sought after, with the exception of Khoreva, for freelancing/media/creations- although a lot of that can be blamed on COVID and then the war.

Marina Vasilyeva really struck gold in 2002 with both Novikova and Obratsova in the same class. Novikova arrived at the theatre with splendid port de bras and an organized presentation, in addition to snatching the top prize at the Vaganova International Ballet Competition in her graduating year. Additionally remarkable is her phrasing, looking blissfully effortless in addition to the intricacies of her upper body even from a young age. Every step was always clear, although not quite as luminous as she later became. I think today's graduates should be watching more videos of her and taking note of her fluidity. It took her far too long to get to principal, but she was a first soloist in 6 years, a well paced timeline in my opinion.

Nina Kaptsova really had a strong start to her career. She was dancing solo roles from her first season at the Bolshoi. In 1999, only 3 years after graduating, she was nominated for the prestigious Benois de la Danse prize. A year later, she won it. Even so, she wasn't named principal until 2011. These dancers are simply part of a different timeline, it seems like it's becoming more and more common to see dancers graduate and become principals in 5 years or less, particularly at the Bolshoi.

[needlesandnilbogs]

so. Usually, modern danseurs don’t do pointe, because that’s a female technique— male variations rely on jumps and turns, and traditionally are done flat, while partner work is always done with the ballerina en pointe and danseur flat. However, when they do have the training for pointework, it turns out like this, extremely cool

Do I have to say it?

[mvzzyheartz]

do u do any pointework?

sadly not YET since I'm re-learning... but im trying my best!!! it needs alot of training since you're like. literally supporting your entire body on your tip-toes...

but fun fact!! if I hadn't stopped during quarantine, I would've been on pointe shoes already!! :D

[balletadventures]

pointework this morning

music: "Frappé: Wildest Dreams" from the album "Ballet Class with Taylor" by Trisha Wolf