I borrowed the Balanchine book (Balanchine Then and Now) which I’d seen at the library on display. The librarian gave me permission to borrow it, and I think they can replace it with another one, but I’ll be quick with this one, I promise!…I’ve seen another one, way too heavy for me to lug around, I don’t know I’d be able to absorb it either, an awesome one on hands and legs and dollar notes placed to ensure people’s legs are pressed together correctly (“That’s cruel!” exclaimed a friend, in partial jest only, “some people really can’t put their legs together!”).
A snippet in the book caught my eye, on the desired shape of ballerinas. It brings to mind something Maria Kochetkova said in Dance magazine, about how she’d been told she was too short for ballet. That was very startling to me–I’d always thought that the shorter, the better, for ballerinas.
Ok, that’s all I can get out of my mind today. I was recalling things today I’d heard from the last One @ The Ballet, about moves passed down by word of mouth, traditions; hands no higher than the crown in Princess Aurora’s variation in Act I of Sleeping Beauty. And the evolution of moves through the ages as techniques changed. People who could, did (like the lady who rose on her toes and seemed to float across the stage); and then people wanted to do that or see others do that, as well.
There are things I’d never know otherwise, that were at the last One @ The Ballet — Raymonda Pas de Quatre (capably and ably performed that day by Nazer Salgado, Jason Carter, Etienne Ferrere, Lewis Gardner) being used in male repertoire class for advanced dancing, because it contains many of the things one would like to be trained in.
The song for today is One Direction’s Fool’s Gold, which is a delicate song that flowers subtly at the lovely broken note in the chorus–“Fool’s go-o-o-old”. Then it flows into the next song, Night Changes, which I think is fascinating and gorgeous, and that turns into Fireproof, which holds that magic quality of running straight on so that you can substitute any words for its lyrics (except its chorus, which I honestly didn’t enjoy that much when I first heard it).
ETA: Before Fireproof is the great 60s-ish piece No Control, with its drawly notes and anthem-like shouting chorus. It has to grow on one–I didn’t enjoy it that much until I heard the chorus.