All I want for Christmas...

Just a few things on my Christmas wish list:

1) I would love for Julia Fischer to record the Shostakovich and Sibelius violin concertos, for I have the sinking feeling that I will never get to hear her perform them otherwise!  If not, perhaps I can wish for her to perform more in the US, preferably in New York City or close to the Northeast!

Speaking of the Sibelius and Shostakovich, here are some pictures of her playing those very concertos that I happened to find:

Sibelius violin concerto - Summer 2007 - 1
Sibelius violin concerto - Summer 2007 - 2

Shostakovich violin concerto - August 2010

2)  I wish to see Diana Vishneva perform "Don Quixote" or "The Sleeping Beauty."
It occurs to me that despite having seen two full seasons of Vishneva performing, I have yet to see her in a full-length ballet where her character is alive at the end of the show.  I know that she prefers the dramas, which all seem to end in death, but since she has received such critical praise for her performances of Kitri and Aurora, I would love to see them for myself.

Of her 2009 performance at the Kennedy Center in Washington DC, Alistair Macauley wrote:

On Tuesday’s opening night Diana Vishneva — injured for much of 2008 — was in bright, flashing form as the heroine Kitri. The sheer luster of her presence is often startling; I know of no dancer today who so gloriously seems a source of light.

And Sarah Kaufman of the Washington Post ranked her performance in "The Sleeping Beauty" in February as one of the best performances of 2010:

Diana Vishneva in the title role of "The Sleeping Beauty," performed by the Mariinsky Ballet in February at the Kennedy Center Opera House. Vishneva, one of the supreme dance artists of our day, warmed an audience that had braved a snowstorm to see her with luminous acting and dance phrasing that was sensitive to both the music and the moment.

3) I wish for Mao Asada to fulfill her goal of reworking all her jumps. I know that it will take a lot of time and effort to do this, and I just hope that she can maintain her motivation and not be too disheartened if she isn't able to put everything together this season. I firmly believe that Mao will succeed eventually, but eventually might not come before March!

December-born composers and random music-related musings

1)  As I write this, I'm listening to various tunes and incidental music by Jean Sibelius, whose violin concerto I especially adore.  Today I say it's my favorite, but I'm awfully fickle in these sort of matters.  It was, however, one of those rare pieces of music (like Bach's Chaconne) that I liked from the first listen, and from the very first bar.

Anyway, what makes Sibelius of particular interest to me is that his birthday is one day before mine.

Indeed, I was listening to Berlioz on Friday for a similar reason--his birthday is two days after mine.

And then there's Beethoven, whose birthday is a week later.

In general, I don't believe in astrology and psychics and all that, but it is fun to think that we Sagittarii have something in common. ^_^

2) I've always been curious how orchestras find/pick substitutes when a particular artist cancels a concert.

Last week, Julia Fischer played the Brahms violin concerto with the Chamber Orchestra of Europe in Madrid.  However, a quick glance at the Orchestra's schedule reveals Janine Jansen was originally scheduled as the soloist.  Interesting.

This little incident reminds me of it's inverse--earlier this year I was extremely excited to be able to see Ms. Fischer play the Bach solo partitas and sonatas in Carnegie Hall, but about a month before the concert the tour was canceled.  I suppose it was a good thing that Carnegie Hall simply refunded my money instead of substituting another violinist--it would not have been the same at all!

I truly hope that Julia Fischer will play her solo Bach in New York some time soon!  Or else I really might have to try to travel to see her play...

3) Speaking of Julia Fischer, will her next recording be of  Joseph Suk’s Fantasy for Violin and Ottorino Respighi’s Poema Autunnale?  A press release about Monaco's Philharmonic Orchestra reveals this tidbit:

Julia Fischer, a young 26-year-old violinist, will be the artist in residence.  Julia Fischer is an internationally renowned violinist, one of the most brilliant of her generation, and one of Yakov Kreizberg’s closest musical partners.  She will perform in two concerts, interpreting Joseph Suk’s Fantasy for Violin and Ottorino Respighi’s Poema Autunnale on 20 November, and Brahms’ Double Concerto on 4 March.  She will also tour in Spain with the Orchestra, and will make a recording, conducted by Yakov Kreizberg.

I'm not familiar with these pieces, but I welcome any recordings with Julia Fischer!

4) A few weeks ago I happened to find a link detailing the audition process for NYCB's orchestra.  (I have no idea how I stumbled upon this.) According to the site, a violinist needs to play the first movement of the Tchaikovsky or Sibelius violin concertos as part of the audition!  I admit I'm not very familiar with the level of skill among your average professional violinist, but that seems awfully difficult--it's a ballet orchestra, after all, not the NY Philharmonic!!

Then again, NYCB does have all those violin concertos in its repertoire--Barber and Stravinsky, to name a few, so it would probably be useful to have a number of violinists who can tackle the solo.

Or perhaps the rigorous audition process simply speaks to the high level of skill of the NYCB orchestra.  I have to admit, one of my major qualms with the American Ballet Theatre Orchestra is that they can sound embarrassingly amateurish--the violin solo in the White Swan pas de deux from "Swan Lake" always seems to go out of tune on the high runs, and the horns are absolutely dreadful in "Romeo & Juliet."

Yes, if I had the money to be a major donor at ABT, that's definitely one thing I would change--beef up the orchestra into one that is worthy of Tchaikovsky's or Prokofiev's scores, and also, perhaps, premiere new scores for new ballets.

The Russian-est dancer at NYCB

So, let's be honest.  I have some serious Russian fetish when it comes to the arts.

My three heroines of the moment all have a connection to Russia.  My favorite ballerina, Diana Vishneva, is of course, Russian--she was born in St. Petersburg, trained at the illustrious Vaganova Academy and is the star of the Kirov/Mariinsky ballet.

My favorite violinist, Julia Fischer, is German/Slovakian, yes, but she has been heavily influenced by Russia. One of her important early teachers was Russian-born Lydia Dubrovskaya, and her current teacher is Ana Chumachenco, also of Russian origin.

According to this article:

While working with the Russian-born Dubrovskaya, “everything Russian” flooded into Fischer’s life, adding to the love she already had from her Prague-trained mother of such great musicians as Sviatoslav Richter, Mstislav Rostropovich, David Oistrakh, and Zinaida Gilels. Oistrakh was special, and she soon found herself buying all his recordings.

So it should come as no surprise that a recent Czech review (via GoogleTranslate) noted that "Julia Fischer has an extra round and full tone, reminiscent of the Russian violinist school."

And then, of course, there is the fact that Julia Fischer's first CD release was of Russian violin concertos and with the Russian National Orchestra under the baton of (Russian-born) Yakov Kriezberg.

And let us not forget that her parents grew up in communist countries:

“Both my parents came from communist countries. I was brought up knowing all the faults of that system”—faults, she says, that find their way into her interpretations.

So I think it's safe to say that Russia/the Soviet Union was a major influence on Julia Fischer as well.

What about my favorite skater, Mao Asada?  She is Japanese, yet her two foreign coaches, Rafael Artunian and Tatiana Tarasova, were Russian.  Her mother wanted her to work with Tarasova because she believed that the Russians were the best.  And Mao even began learning Russian so she could communicate better with her (former) coach.

So clearly I like the artists/athletes that have been heavily influenced by Russia.  Why is that?

Well, I think it has something to do with what a young American dancer training at the Bolshoi said:

“The standards are such and the work ethic is such in Russia that there is no room for failure, there is no room for laziness, there is no room to be nice when it is not appropriate to be nice,” Joy said. “Russia is the best because there is this demand for excellence that there isn’t in any other part of the world.”

***
So that brings me to the title of this post.

In general, I am not a huge fan of New York City Ballet (NYCB).  They are, on the whole, too American for me.  I much prefer the Russian style (and Russian dancers).

But there is one ballerina that I really do like--Sterling Hyltin.  I saw her in early 2009 in "Coppelia" and found her quite charming, and I was also impressed with her technique when I saw the PBS broadcast of Peter Martins' "Romeo + Juliet." (Though the production as a whole pales in comparison the to MacMillan version.)

So I was quite tickled to find this quote about her in a review (emphasis added):

Hyltin is one of the company’s most exciting and well-rounded ballerinas: crystalline technique, warmth in spades, a delightful skittishness, silvery jumps, total engagement with her partners. In addition, her use of épaulement—the expressive coordination of the shoulders, back, and head so characteristic of Russian dancers—stands out in a company where full-bodied movement competes with speed and attack.

 Yep, I should've known!  Leave it to me to pick the Russian-est dancer at NYCB as my favorite!

Haglund, my favorite dance blogger, also had some nice things to say about Ms. Hyltin:

The final piece on the program was Danses Concertantes lead by Sterling Hyltin and Gonzalo Garcia. These days it's very hard not to adore Hyltin in anything she dances.  But for some funky fingers and excessive wrist whipping, she's a clear and unaffected voice for most every choreographer, and she makes every guy she stands in front of look better.

I always like it when the bloggers I like like the things I like.  ;)

Gratuitous...hair?!

So, I've been thinking a lot about hair recently.

Last weekend, I watched "The Nun's Story," a 1959 film starring the inimitable Audrey Hepburn, and I was struck by how much a nun's habit reminded me of a burqa.  I hadn't really thought about it before, but I guess nuns keep their hair concealed just as the stricter forms of Islam require.

And now that I think about it--hair, or specifically, haircuts, play a pretty big role in Audrey Hepburn films!  In "Roman Holiday," her first Hollywood film, she gets her hair cut as a sign of her new-found freedom.  In "Sabrina," she goes off to Paris and returns with a chic short hairdo.  And finally, in "The Nun's Story," her hair is brusquely cut off before she becomes a novice, and we never see her hair again until the very end.

But I digress...

What really got me thinking on this subject was a performance of "Serenade," Balanchine's first "American" ballet, at the opening night of New York City Ballet's fall season.  In one section (I am unfortunately not familiar enough with the piece to know what it is called), two of the ballerinas dance with their hair completely loose.  And since their hair was blond and waist-length, it made for quite a sight, flowing and swirling as they jumped and turned, much like their long tulle skirts.

It was a striking contrast to your typical "bunhead" ballerina, and since the choreography itself was somewhat sensuous, I couldn't help but think this display of hair felt gratuitous.

Here's a pic of the Suzanne Farrell ballet performing the piece, to give you an idea of the costuming and hair:

I guess I shouldn't be surprised, since certain religions clearly find women's hair to be provocative, but it was the first time I had seriously considered the sensuousness of hair.

And then, with this in the back of my head, I happened to encounter this scene while reading Flaubert's Madame Bovary (Part Two, Chapter 14):

And the Homais children came to see her, along with Justin. He would go up to her room with them, and stand near the door, motionless, taciturn. Madame Bovary would quite often, unaware of him, sit down at her dressing-table. First she took out her comb, shaking her head with a quick gesture; and when he first saw it, that great mass of hair falling right down to her knees, the dark ringlets uncoiling, it was for him, poor boy, like a sudden initiation into something new and extraordinary, a splendour that set him trembling.

I'm guessing the fictional Justin would've enjoyed that little dance in "Serenade" quite a bit!

And, I guess this means I should let my hair grow out! ;)

Of course Vishneva and Gomes did "Lady of the Camellias"

Last weekend, Diana Vishneva and Marcelo Gomes (the perfect pair, in my opinion) performed in Moscow at the "Stars of the 21st century" gala.

Here is a news clip:


And what did they choose to dance?  Well, they did a revised an expanded version of Mauro Bigonzetti's "Kazimir's Colors," which is now called "Vertigo."  And thanks to Diana's incredibly strong yet incredibly flexible body and Marcelo's superb partnering, it was simply jaw-dropping.

Watch it here:


But that was not all!  They also performed what now seems to be one of Vishneva's favorites--the Act III pas de deux from "Lady of the Camellias," choreographed by John Neumeier to Chopin's heartwrenching Ballade No. 1 in G minor.

See this pic and more on Diana Vishneva's Facebook page.

When Diana and Marcelo danced the full ballet at ABT this summer, it seemed like it truly meant something to them.  This was the first time that either of them had performed the ballet, and they did it together.

Before their final performance on June 7, Marcelo wrote on his Twitter account:

cant wait to dance armand in lady of the camellias tonight with the very inspiring diana vishneva.last chance to see the ballet at the met

And after the performance, Diana wrote on her Facebook page:

last night was last Lady of the Camellias
I am going to miss this production. it will be in ABT repertoire next year
also, it was last time performance with Marcelo Gomes in this ABT season
amazing partner! I'm truly happy to dance with him. I gave him russian t-shirt last night, I think he liked very much)

And in a recent interview (via GoogleTranslate, so please take this with a grain of salt), Diana said:

I recently danced in the New York premiere of "La Dame aux Camelias" directed by John Neumeier, and of course, John is one of my favorite choreographers, because in his own way, he reveals the romantic plot and fills it with deep emotion.  Cooking with the role is an incredible feeling, as he puts in the nuances of how he sees you in it and at the same time gives you tremendous freedom.  Such works then stay with you for life.

I certainly hope they bring back "Lady of the Camellias" next year!  But only if Diana and Marcelo get to dance it together!

***
One final comment on the gala....

I read this review (or what I could gather from it via GoogleTranslate) and was struck by the comment about Natalia Osipova, young star of the Bolshoi ballet, who made quite the splash at ABT this year.

The reviewer acknowledges her bravura dancing and her ability to do 16 double fouettes in the excerpt from Don Quixote. But then the reviewer writes:

But coarse proficiency with which a young dancer moved from one stroke motion to another, not bothering to finish small steps, turned the dance festival in the working routine.

However, viewers of these subtleties are not felt and, ignoring the lyrics, reacted mainly to strong stimuli.

That is EXACTLY what I felt when I saw her do "Don Quixote" at ABT this summer.  Amazing tricks? YES!  Mugging for the audience? YES!  Ballet?  Not in my opinion!  And so it made it even worse when everyone in the audience around me was going beserk.  Yes, she is not my type of ballerina, or at least not yet...

My best frenemy

Here's a little fictional story I made up that is inspired by events of recent history, but not necessarily based on them, nor on reality at all...

We met for the first time when we were 13.  We were complete opposites.  I was painfully shy and awkward, and she was bubbly and happy--an adorable girl with a beaming smile.

And how she could skate!  So soft, light, so effortless.  I envied her flexibility and her jumps, but what irked me the most was the way she seemed to be not thinking at all.  Everything just came so easy for her.

At our first competition together, I placed a distant second--she outscored me by nearly 30 points.  At first, I felt despair--how could I ever beat her, I lamented.  It's what everybody says--she's a genius!  And then gradually, I began to feel angry.  And I begin to hate her a little.  I told myself, one day, I WILL beat her.  I WILL be better than her!

And just when these thoughts reached a climax in my head, she came up to me, gold medal shining around her neck and beaming smile on her pretty face.  "Here, these are for you," she says, handing me a box of chocolates, wrapped in a beautiful ribbon.  "We should be friends," she says. "We're the only ones who are 13!"

"See you at the next competition!" she says as she turns and walks to join her equally sweet and beautiful older sister.

And as I stand there holding the chocolate, I am startled to find that I am smiling too. 

"What did she say?" my mom says, watching her go with a disapproving look in her eye.

"Nothing. She wants to be friends, that's all."

How could I ever have thought badly of her?

***

But soon after that, those jealous thoughts started to consume me again, and I forgot this little incident.

Because she had done so well on the junior circuit, she received a special exemption to compete on the senior circuit, and I watched in amazement and mounting envy as she won competition after competition, upsetting even the top senior skaters.

"We'll beat her one day, you'll see," my new coach Byron says.  "You'll be the best skater ever!"

And as the seasons pass, I start to believe his words.  We strategize to maximize my scoring potential--we avoid risks and play to my strengths.  And more importantly, I teach myself to be "expressive."  I memorize the movements of my choreographer, Daniel Wilton, I practice in front of the mirror, and I execute the motions perfectly in the competitions.

And the crowd and the judges love me.  Slowly, but steadily, I begin to win competition after competition.  She, my friend and rival, has become wildly uneven.  While I have settled on the elements of my programs, focusing on perfecting each part, she is constantly trying new things.  So she has become inconsistent, delivering moments of beautiful brilliance as well as complete meltdowns.

"She has no idea what she's doing," my mom scoffs.  "She doesn't understand what the judges are looking for at all."

She's almost making it too easy for me, I think.  She's not using her strengths--her beautiful positions, her lilting grace and elegance.  No, she has no idea what her strengths are.  That's the problem.  I laugh to myself.  She's totally clueless.  And yet, as I watch her land those nearly-impossible jumps and perform her exhausting and complex step sequences, I can't ignore a nagging feeling that she's a better skater than I'll ever be.  But that's not what the judges want, I think with a wry smile.

No, she has no idea how to compete, I think.  She skates too much from the heart, she doesn't know how to control her emotions.

***

There is little surprise when I win that big competition that comes only once every four years.  And it's a complete blowout--I've left her a distant second.  It's everything I've ever wanted.

I'm happy, but mostly I feel utterly exhausted.  She comes up to me backstage with another present--traditional sweets from her hometown.  "You skated so well! Congratulations!" she says, with her usual sweet smile.  She has been crying; she made mistakes and I bet she's mad at herself.  But there's not the slightest hint of resentment in her face.  She's genuinely happy for me.

And that kills me.  Can't she hate me even a little?

She turns and walks away to join her group of friends.  Her boyfriend puts his arm around her and pulls her into their boisterous, laughing circle.

I'm left alone with my mom and my manager.  And suddenly I wonder, was it all worth it?

How I discovered Julia Fischer

Well, I might as well take a moment to introduce someone who will undoubtedly appear prominently in my posts to follow--Julia Fischer, my favorite violinist.

***

This all started with a Washington Post article that I stumbled upon.  I don’t remember how I found this article, but I imagine I was reading up on my then-favorite violinist, Joshua Bell, who also happens to share my birthday.

The article, “PEARLS BEFORE BREAKFAST,” describes an experiment in which Joshua Bell played incognito in a D.C. metro station during rush hour, and was generally completely ignored by the busy commuters.

The author, Gene Weingarten, used the results of this experiment to lament the busy hustle and bustle of modern life, the lack of time to stop and smell the roses, our loss of appreciation for classical music, etc, etc.

(As a side note, Weingarten won both praise for the originality of his experiment as well as a Pulitzer Prize, but a few months later, he discovered that an almost identical experiment was conducted in 1930, with very similar results. Oops!)

Anyway, the first piece that Joshua Bell played was the final movement of Johann Sebastian Bach’s Partita No. 2 in D Minor for Solo Violin, the monumental Chaconne.

Every once in awhile, I hear a piece that grabs me from my very first listen, and the Chaconne hooked me from the opening chord. (You can hear Joshua Bell’s version, complete with background noise, by clicking on the article link above.)

This is how the article describes it:

Bell decided to begin with "Chaconne" from Johann Sebastian Bach's Partita No. 2 in D Minor. Bell calls it "not just one of the greatest pieces of music ever written, but one of the greatest achievements of any man in history. It's a spiritually powerful piece, emotionally powerful, structurally perfect. Plus, it was written for a solo violin, so I won't be cheating with some half-assed version."

Bell didn't say it, but Bach's "Chaconne" is also considered one of the most difficult violin pieces to master. Many try; few succeed. It's exhaustingly long -- 14 minutes -- and consists entirely of a single, succinct musical progression repeated in dozens of variations to create a dauntingly complex architecture of sound. Composed around 1720, on the eve of the European Enlightenment, it is said to be a celebration of the breadth of human possibility.

If Bell's encomium to "Chaconne" seems overly effusive, consider this from the 19th-century composer Johannes Brahms, in a letter to Clara Schumann: "On one stave, for a small instrument, the man writes a whole world of the deepest thoughts and most powerful feelings. If I imagined that I could have created, even conceived the piece, I am quite certain that the excess of excitement and earth-shattering experience would have driven me out of my mind."

Pretty amazing stuff, right?  It certainly seemed so to me.

I desperately wanted a recording. However, Mr. Bell has not recorded the Chaconne, so I set off to find a version I liked.

I went to Amazon.com and discovered that I could compare several recordings side-by-side by browsing the mp3 downloads.  I’m not sure if this was on purpose or not, but for the sample clip, Amazon uses the same section of the song, so it was very easy to make direct comparisons. And what variety of tone and phrasing and tempo!

Well, by going through the list, I found one that I particularly liked—the version by Julia Fischer, whom I had never heard of.

I read the glowing reviews, did some research and discovered that not only was she a virtuoso violinist, but also a professional pianist, and more impressively, born the same year as me!

I ended up purchasing the CD (highly recommended) and several other of her releases, and that is how I became a fan.

You can read more about Julia Fischer and hear her playing that fabulous Chaconne here.

More on the fabulous Ms. Fischer to follow later!

Sprezzatura

The inspiration for this blog title came from this review of last year's Fall for Dance Festival:

Fokine’s choreographic talents were paid a much more impressive tribute by Diana Vishneva’s performance as “The Dying Swan.” From the moment she stepped on stage, one could feel the tragedy of her situation. The power of her emotive grace was palpable, even from three tiers away in the mezzanine gallery. Her face and gracefully broken angles screamed a slow resignation. This was a wonderful articulation of the Italian concept of sprezzatura: The glory of an incredible, technically skilled dancer applying all her skill to demonstrate the tragic beauty of a graceful death, while making it look effortless.

After reading more about the concept of sprezzatura, I realized it is something I value highly in all of the artists and athletes I admire: effortlessness and elegance over showy spectacle.  Hence the title.

However, despite the somewhat pretentious title, I plan to keep the tone of this blog rather informal, and post whatever interests me at the moment, whether it be ballet, or classical music or maybe even some delightful dessert I've had.  Enjoy!