Today, an old friend popped into studio 5-2 while we were in a deep contemplative moment, having just finished a very beautiful, slow Adagio in center, and… it was weird! Everyone was kind of like, whoa, what’s happening!
In the aftermath, I realized, class, from my engagement with Instagram, seems like something anyone can just come into unannounced… I haven’t been holding the container of class closed, and so this friend, who was in rehearsal in another studio in the building, just felt like she could walk in to peek into class, without any advance conversation. It’s 100% my fault that that happened, but in the moment after having that disruption, I realized I really don’t want it to happen again. I think that because I have posted so many videos of class to Instagram, the experience that we have in the studio now feels like it’s available for anyone to see.
I’m gonna stop posting class videos, at least for awhile, because Ballez class is a sacred space to practice doing ballet for ourselves and each other. It is a deep and vulnerable process.
I have been posting videos of class to Instagram for years, because I am so proud of the incredible work that people do in class, and I want to share that work beyond our bubble, to inspire the people outside of NYC with the proposition that ballet could be for more than just the elite few who fit nicely within its borders. And I think the videos from class are beautiful. But, I also think that in this moment, I want to close that experience, and keep it just for those of us who are in the room. Because the world outside is scary AF and we need a space to just be together, deeply in the process of attuning to ourselves and to each other.
Growing up in a ballet studio meant constantly being watched: by my teacher, who wasn’t dancing, but was sitting up front, banging a cane and yelling instructions, by the studio “moms” who would crowd around the window to the studio and discuss our bodies and who had the best prospects of being cast in the upcoming productions, and by guest artists and visitors who would pass judgement on all of our fit-ness to be in this profession we aspired to.
Being watched in class felt good, sometimes. Sometimes, I imagined that one of these people would come to class, see my tremendous talent, and would lift me up out of the obscurity of Texas Youth Ballet and bring me into the “real” ballet world… maybe even to 890 Broadway, where I now teach— although in my fantasy it was to the studios of American Ballet Theater, 1 flight downstairs from where Ballez class happens.
The person who actually brought me to 890 Broadway was Janet Panetta, and the reason I dance there now is because I made a point of owning my ballet technique for myself, and not allowing the judgment of the “real” ballet world to limit my expression, artistry, or right to exist. Janet’s class was everything. It was full of dancers of all kinds, some with serious ballet baggage, and some who were just learning the form for the first time to enhance their other work, or simply because it was fun. There were burlesque dancers and nightlife entertainers and queers and Pina Bausch dancers and postmodern dancers and Cunningham devotees. And it felt like such a homecoming to be in a motley crew of dancers who simply loved to dance. And we watched each other.
ok ok, one last video: this one is based on Janet’s “lullaby adagio,” as remembered by me, with a few flourishes
When I started Ballez class back at Brooklyn Arts Exchange in 2011, there were no mirrors, and we put the barres in a circle to mirror one another. We looked at one another, but we also looked inward, to reconnect to the feelings that arise with the music. That process was so necessary for me, because as soon as I put a hand on the barre, I would start to have heart palpitations— my body didn’t feel like my own, and I had to wrestle the evil voices in my head to lay claim to my right to dance these steps I spent decades learning.
When Ballez class started, no one could watch; it felt so important to turn the experience of taking class away from privileging the experience of the audience, and towards privileging the experience of the dancer. That doesn’t mean that we didn’t and don’t watch each other in class now… we absolutely do. But it’s a very different psychological proposition to be both watcher and watched, vs just a watcher.
And so… I’m going to take a pause on video-ing during class. If you want to be here with yourself and me and the other dancers, you’re gonna have to come to class. And participate. And participating can look exactly how it looks, and I won’t record it for anyone else to see.
I want to be with you all, in space and time and presence. It is powerful to witness and be witnessed. Wherever you are in your journey with all of this, and whatever your identity! You’re invited. Come see yourself and me.
Schedule:
Monday 6-7:30pm Beginner Ballez with MJ Markovitz
Tuesday/Thursday 12-1:45 Pro Ballez with Kade Pyle
Friday 10:30am Pro Ballez with Kade Pyle