The Ballet

Saturday night I saw my first ballet. The opera house was stunningly beautiful and was the perfect space in which to see Swan Lake.

To be quite honest, the opera house reminded me of some sort of heavenly space and the stage truly became a twilight zone. Yes, this borders on hyperbole but the golden ceilings and the beautifully crafted boxes speak of something transcendent. I know that I am being brought up in a studio training that teaches that any space is a valid performance space. Per Peter Brook and Ngugi Wa Thiongo, there is no such thing as an empty space. And yet, it is always refreshing to appreciate the ostentation of past theatremakers. I felt like a kid again, aching to be onstage and also just play in the orchestra pit. Moments like these remind me why I want to do this for the rest of my life.

Needless to say, I was very excited to see my first ballet, let alone Swan Lake. There was an authentic anticipation for the performance in the theatre, which was something that haven't felt in a long time. And then it began.

Ballet is a bizarre art form. It is truly bizarre. The dancers glide across the stage with a fluid grace that is truly a pleasure to watch. Then they move within these statuesque poses that illustrate the intensity of their training. What is so bizarre is that watching a ballet is watching the destruction of the human body in a very strict form. These dancers have trained in such a rigid form that their bodies will permanently be altered. Bad knees. Arthritis. Torn ligaments. We applaud these impossible dance moves because anyone in their right mind would never put their body through such extensive harm on a daily basis.

And so much of Swan Lake, is one group of dancers after another showing off variations of what they can do. This being my first ballet, I was surprised by how little the dance forwarded the story.The story was a mere excuse for these people to get up and show off to one another (put crudely). All emotion was symbolized in simple, cliched gesture while all else was a whirlwind of beautiful and complicated movement. I guess what really triggered all these thoughts was the moment the cast bowed. Yes, I will clap for them. But in all honesty, what am I applauding? A group of dedicated dancers who have spent their lives learning a physically destructive dance form that only a select few can "excel" in? Am I applauding the fact that these people can dance a form that I will never be to? Am I applauding my own inability? What irked me then was the three to four curtain calls. I felt that after the first one, we were just applauding the tradition of ballet rather than the strength of the just seen performance. The beauty of the actual theatre locked us into the tradition of the piece.

What do I applaud: the tradition of the performance or the nature of the performance itself? Or both? That is what was so interesting about the ballet. It can confuse and redirect the audience's attention. It can give us mediocre rendition of a story and yet amaze us with its physically strenuous and destructive dance form. A dance of destruction on a transcendent stage (oof). Why do they bow in the middle of the piece, after each dance? The fourth wall is constantly broken and yet we are expected to appreciate its nature. I've not been taught to stop for a bow after each beat in a scene or after each verse in a song. We judge a piece on its continuity as a whole rather than on each section.

This isn't meant to be a scathing attack on ballet as an artform. And in the end who am I to say any of this? But it has made me question what I applaud for at the end of a piece. Lets do it, I am going to make a sweeping generalization (wouldn't be the first time). I have come to believe that all art in some way or another, is a form of storytelling. And yet, I see ballet as a form at war with itself. The movement means more than the progression of the story. We are "supposed" to appreciate the perfection of the movement. One could argue that perfection is transcendent......... whooooooaaaa I need to stop this. Shut it down. SHUTTING DOWN

All said and done, I want to go again and again! I love inexpensive theatre seats!

Best,

N

1/31/11

Dobry den,

I have to say that this past Saturday was the classiest day of my life. It consisted of a Czech cubism exhibit, a lamb meal, and a night at the ballet. But even before all that, here are some pictures I took from a walk earlier that day:

The cubism exhibit was very beautiful. I don't know how to explain it other than with some photos my roommate took. Usually when I look at the intensely popular cubism of Picasso (for instance), I see a style and a hint of an emotional backstory. There is no question about the genius of his work, but I often just get lost in thinking "oh wow, these are shapes, these look like something else." Elegant criticism, no? But I guess I needed a different lens through which to view other cubist art. In the pieces at the Black Madonna House (a testament to cubism architecture itself), I saw a vivid emotion in all the pieces that reminded me of the frenzied strokes of a Turner piece (two totally different styles I know, but still I could sense a longing in each piece). The composition of colors spoke of a nostalgia and loss. But enough of my blabbing, I'll let the photos speak for themselves.

My next post is going to be about the ballet. I hope all is well with all you out there!

And HAPPY ANNIVERSARY MOM AND DAD!!!

N

Some More Pictures

Here are some more pictures from my first few weeks here. Enjoy!

The blue building on the left is one of the NYU buildings.

1/26/2011

Dobry den from Prague!

I have now been in the country for a week and a half. I have to say it has been a lovely departure from New York. Don't get me wrong, I love New York. I love so much about that city: the 24 hour food, the night life, the man vomiting on my stoop, and the A train (the stereotypical exp). But after experiencing Prague for even the short time I've been here, I have to say I have fallen in love with the city. It is stunning. The snow falls differently here. It gently falls and wafts towards the ground. That's as poetic as I will get.

I live in Holesvice, which is in Prague 7. The dorm is gorgeous and the space is huge. I live in a double that was supposed to be a triple, so we have a lot of space. The kitchen is basically an IKEA ad, except for the jolly Swede holding a mug of whatever. And here is the big thing, we have a towel warming rack. It's kind of a big deal and lovely. And the neighborhood is lovely and quiet, while still having quite a bit of nice restaurants and bars.

I have to take a tram to and from the city center. And the public transportation makes me never want to go back to New York again. It's reliable and it has student discounts for monthly users. One problem is that it goes quiet after 11pm. It seems it is the custom to start drinking early and be home by 11. And while we are on that subject, beer is literally cheaper than water. I bought a round the other night of Pilsner Urquell (the Czech National brand) and I paid 100 crowns for 4 pints. That is 6 dollars. So much is cheaper here than in New York. Than even the local Wawa. I usually pay only about 10 dollars for a good dinner and a few beers. Lunches are about 5. It has been nice not to have to worry about depleting money on the essentials like food and drink. But I digress.

I saw my first Czech hockey game this past Sunday. It didn't take me long to get to one! I sat near the ice for 6 dollars and had a few cheap beers and saw one of Prague's two teams, Slavia, take on the Vitovice Steel from Moravia. Slavia won in an exciting game and it was really interesting to see the difference in fan behavior at the game, than from say a typical Flyers game. Each team had a corresponding fan club at each end of the ice behind the the net and they stood the entire game. They sang and chanted and were lead by drummers as the game progressed. Then I guess everyone in the middle section was a "more casual" kind of fan. I think I'd enjoy a game like that if Flyers fans were like that instead of just being obnoxious Philadelphians. There is no real notable difference in how the game is played here. No they are not NHL level but the skill is very apparent. However, many of the goals came from just "throwin the puck at the net," Dornhoefer would be proud. You can tell that the goalies are the ones who don't have the NHL skill and often are holding on for dear life. But that might just have been an exception in this one game I saw. One note about the ice and the jerseys; they are covered with ads, head to toe. admittedly, it is easy to lose track of the puck sometimes because of the bright green car ads.

Well that's it for now! Hopefully I will post again later this week and let you know what's happening!

From Prague Castle... looks like a Decemberists album cover

Na shledanou!

N