Backstage with The Bolshoi

Last weekend, we drove to Chapel Hill, N.C. to see an excellent production of Swan Lake by Moscow’s Bolshoi Ballet, one of the world’s top ballet companies. The theater (Memorial Hall on the UNC campus) was beautiful, the stage set was sumptuous, and the costumes were dazzling. The dancers, of course, were exquisite with their impeccable technique and timing, and their superb acting—which is one of those extra dimensions of ballet that Russian-trained dancers seem to excel at.

Swan Lake

On this night, their professionalism also stood out. One reason was that the floor (a special dancing pad laid on top of the stage) was abnormally slippery, which presented a particular problem to the female dancers when they were en pointe (on tip toes). You rarely see big slips or mistakes by a company of this caliber, but on this occasion two different ladies took serious tumbles on account of the floor. But both ladies remained unflappable and got right back on their feet. Each time, the rest of the dancers on stage effortlessly swept the fallen dancer back into full pace, and the show went on. They all made it seem like a minor thing, and I doubt whether most in the audience knew how rare and dangerous falls like that can be (it’s bad enough spraining your ankle when the foot is flat and gets twisted; it’s another thing when you are standing tip toe, bearing your full weight).

Another thing the audience may not have realized was that the stage itself was considerably smaller than a traditional ballet stage. Consequently, the dancers had to limit the full range of motion, timing, and speed that they train so hard to master. On a smaller stage, they have to tighten up, turn sooner, and slow down earlier. But they disguised all this beautifully and still wowed the audience.

en pointe

A third fact was that the lead female role was danced, not by one of the usual principal dancers, but by one of the leading soloists, Ekaterina Shipulina. Leading soloists are understudies of the principals so they know the choreography, and in this instance she did a wonderful job. Her technique, timing, and style were excellent, and she was well supported by the male priniipal, Alexander Volchkov. Nonetheless, the ‘arc’ of her performance was not particularly compelling. Whereas each dance in each act was strong, she did not weave them into a continuous and full tapestry of the character (in this case two characters—the white swan and the black swan—which is even more demanding). Notwithstanding the slippery floor and smaller stage, I felt she could have given herself over more completely to the contrast and intensity of expression that this ballet calls for. At its best, Swan Lake leaves you passionately enchanted (the white swan) and alluringly mesmerized (the black swan).

ballerina backstage

As it happens, my wife knows a ballet aficionado in California who knows many of the Bolshoi dancers. When he learned that the Bolshoi was coming to North Carolina, he called and said he could arrange tickets for us. We leapt (not ballet-like) at the chance, and after the performance went backstage to thank the dancer, Denis Medvedev who had given us his complimentary tickets (he danced the Fool and stole the show).

My wife also knows his wife and she had met Denis before, so we had a nice chat with him, took some pictures together, and got to congratulate the ‘Prince’ and the ‘Swan’ who were still in costume back stage (our five-year-old daughter stood by wide-eyed and very quiet). In Ekaterina’s case, she was, five minutes after the performance, being coached intensely by an instructor on how certain movements could be improved.

We asked Denis about the floor because it had been noticeably squeaky. He explained that it had given the ladies particular problems, and he mentioned the small stage proportions. He also said that they were headed to Washington, D.C. for a final set of performances and that several of the dancers had caught bad colds earlier in the week. As a result he was going to have to dance some of their roles as well as his own in some of their upcoming performances. As he said, “to help them out,” which demonstrated the camaraderie as well as the business side of this glamorouse but stress-filled profession.

Ballet dancers work incredibly hard day in and day out to hone their skills and keep their bodies in shape. Touring is especially exhausting, and the conditions in each city and theater are always unexpected. Yet the Bolshoi dancers—despite their polished, poised appearance on stage—are very young and sweet. As an example, Alexander Volchkov (the Prince) heard us asking for Denis and volunteered to go look for him, which he did.

We later walked outside with Denis before he boarded the bus with everyone else to go to their hotel. The dancers were milling around in shorts, t-shirts, and flip-flops, talking on their cell phones, another performance behind them. Around the corner at the front of the hall, the audience was still filing out onto the street, their thoughts still swirling with rich images of live, world-class ballet—of the Bolshoi! ¶

Bolshoi Ballet

Steeple Chase in Charleston

You can read reams about their history, and you have no doubt seen umpteen photographs of their steeples punctuating the skyline. But when is the last time you perused all the details of their architecture? Not from an academic point of view. Just from your point of view of seeing and ‘feeling’ these majestic churches resting there in the atmosphere.

St. Philip’s, 172 Church Street

St. Philip’s and St. Michael’s are the most recognizable churches in Charleston because they are among the oldest and most visible. It also happens that they pierce the sky with the surest sense of elegance and ease. Other churches on the peninsula are architectural marvels in their own right, but these two draw the most attention, no doubt, too, because of their neoclassical porticoes.

To my eye, the steeple of St. Philip’s feels more anchored to the ground due to the contrast between its large, square base and its long, narrow spire (so narrow that it makes me think of a witch’s hat). Meanwhile the earth-color of the stone ‘holds’ the steeple downward. The brown color also absorbs rather than reflects light, which flattens the three-dimensionality: you look at the steeple, but your eye is not drawn round it voluminously, which diminishes its grandeur. Another curious element is the gold cross on top of the spire. It arrests the upward motion and halts the eye—even to the point that once you notice the cross you lose sight of the steeple.

St. Michael’s, 72 Meeting Street

Conversely, the gold ball and ornamental rod atop St. Michael’s simultaneously thrust your eye heavenward and draw it down to the mass of the steeple shape, whose exemplary proportions guide you gently down to its base.

As the spire descends, notice how it gracefully expands into a roof for what looks like a gazebo perched in the sky. You want to rest there awhile, pour a drink, and take in the view. And just below the ‘gazebo’ is a slightly protruding base whose shadow ever so slightly serves as a visual support. The same effect—the same delineation—is achieved by the balcony just below the clocks.

Notice, too, how the alternating of clocks and windows has a soothing effect (your eye does not race to the next clock), and how the arch of the windows provides a smooth transition to the shuttered arches below and the gazebo arches above, both of which echo the shape of the windows. This unifying element beautifully harmonizes the three distinct sections of the steeple and makes it  visually pleasing and compelling as a whole. ¶

(These photos were taken from atop the parking garage on Cumberland Street where I luckily found myself late one afternoon.)

Painting Put to Music

It is not common for a piece of music to directly echo a painting, and it’s hard to imagine how a composer would go about it. But turn-of-the-century Italian composer Ottorino Respighi got it right, and so did the Spoleto Festival USA Orchestra under the baton of French conductor Pierre Vallet at St. Matthew’s Lutheran Church. If you know the paintings of Sandro Botticelli, you would especially enjoy this music.

Conductor Pierre Vallet’s score

The Trittico Botticelliano conveys Respighi’s sense of meaning and mood in three of Botticelli’s works: his “Spring,” “Adoration of the Magi,” and “Birth of Venus.” Respighi’s three movements, like the paintings, are correspondingly vibrant, sacred, and sensuous. The only thing that might have topped this performance was if the paintings had been shown on a large video screen above the orchestra, with the camera zooming in on the details of each canvas as the pieces were played.

Most evocative is the second movement—the “Adoration”—because of the beautiful melody it borrows from O Come O Come Emmanuel. The haunting sound of a solo oboe further captures the serenity and majesty of Botticelli’s religious scene.

Botticelli’s “Birth of Venus”

In the “Birth of Venus” above, the figures (which are nearly life-size in the original) are especially magical because they float in the air, on the sea, and above the ground. The landscape is fantastical and the four figures (their bodies) are ethereal, yet their faces are fully charged with an unusual depth of emotion—all of which Respighi seems to have caught in his music. It no doubt helps that Botticelli’s works, as much as those of any Renaissance painter, have a fluid, lyrical quality.

Occasionally you come across poetry that tries to impart the essence of a painting. But music does it much better, perhaps because both mediums (painting and music) are wordless. In fact, on account of this, it can be a nice experience to visit an art gallery and walk through the exhibit while listening to music on your iPod. Sometimes a whole other dimension in the art—and in you—comes alive. ¶

Accompanying Pianos at Piccolo

Listening to live classical music is always a learning experience. Each time you hear new things and gain fresh discrimination. This is even more true when the same instrument is played by different musicians—which is just one of the benefits of the Piccolo Spoleto “Young Artists Series” that has been featuring music students from the College of Charleston’s undergraduate and graduate (artist certificate) programs.

Last Saturday at the Simmons Center, the program highlighted four piano concertos with the soloist at one piano and the ‘orchestra’ part being played on a second piano—something I had not heard before. This allowed eight pianists to perform (and avoided the need for an orchestra), although the overall sound was somewhat muffled as a result. That’s because the second piano often competed with rather than complemented the first. Due to the second piano’s location at the back of the stage, it had a bigger, booming acoustic that drowned out the softer solo passages. The upside, however, was that you could hear what both players were doing, which gave me new insight into the orchestra’s role in a concerto. Several things also stood out about the different techniques of the pianists. For instance, Lisa Lee, who performed the Moderato from Rachmaninoff’s Concerto No. 2  in C minor, plays with unusually curled fingers, as though she is clawing the keyboard. It is by no means unattractive and her sound is excellent. It’s just that her method is the direct opposite of, for example, Vladimir Horowitz, the Russian virtuoso who was renowned for playing with his fingers almost perfectly straight and striking the keys with the pads rather than tips of his fingers.

Freshman Chee Hang See, who exudes as much concentration in his face as in his hands, played the Allegro from Gershwin’s Concerto in F Major. My limited experience with Gershwin is that I rarely get past the ‘Gershwin’ style to the music underneath. This time, however, I heard for the first time Gershwin’s complexity and depth as a composer.

pianist Christopher Lin

The final piece on the program was the full Concerto No. 1 in D-flat Major by Prokofiev, performed by Christopher Lin who is an Enrique Graf student from Carnegie Mellon. Christopher has a firm, crisp technique that kept Prokofiev—who often sounds muddled to my untrained ear—very lucid and alive. I am not entirely sure about this, but I also discerned an unexpected similarity between the Prokofiev and Gershwin pieces. Something about the way the two composers put seemingly disparate phrases together. I am still not sold on Prokofiev when it comes to listening pleasure, but Chrisopher’s interpretation and focused play got me more interested. As with Chee Hang, Christopher took me a layer deeper into the music, which says a lot about these young performers and the laudable path that Enrique Graf is leading them down. ¶