Oberon's Grove

Pillow Prelude

Earlier today I had lunch with my opera-singing friends Lisette Oropesa and Nicole Piccolomini at PQ and then as we were heading over to take a few pictures at Lincoln Center, I was delighted to see Amanda Edge, one of my most-missed former NYCB ballerinas, heading down Broadway. Not wanting to interrupt her conversation I just gave her a quick greeting and hug. She looks super! Of course, as soon as we walked on by I realized I should have asked her for a photo. I always think of these things after the opportunity has fled. But I should have some nice new pictures of Lisette & Nicole here next week.

We're getting ready for our trip up to Jacob's Pillow; it's been a decade since I was last at this wonderful spot in the Berkshires. When I lived in Hartford we went to the Pillow four or five times every summer. I will be very curious to see how the place has changed since my last visit (photo left).

The Pillow is such a beautiful and relaxing place that we sometimes made it a day-trip destination during the off-season. Here are Suzanne and Richard on an Autumn day near Blake's Barn which serves as a gallery for photos and mementos of the history of the Festival as well as a place to view video installations of work in progress. And another photo from the car park area.

This is the bell that summons thee to heaven or to hell...no, wait, that's in Scotland. This is the bell that is rung at the Pillow when the performance is about to begin and also when intermission draws to a close...a lovely Pillow tradition. The auditorium can become very stuffy and as far as I know they have not installed air conditioning. Sometimes during performances the great sliding wooden doors at the rear of the stage are opened and the backdrop of trees and skies appears. I once saw a magical Act II GISELLE pas de deux performed with the doors open on a moonlit night.

Kenny just sent me this artifact of me dancing on the outdoor stage at the Pillow. I guess we all make fools of ourselves at one time or another; I'm not sure what would have possessed me to get on the stage and actually DO anything...I am sure there was no one around or I would never have done it. Well, anyway it gives you an idea of the woodsy setting of the festival.

Here I am outside the stage area at the back of the Ted Shawn Theatre. During the season you will find dancers warming up or sunning themselves here. You get a feeling among these buildings and in the garden for Ted Shawn's pioneering spirit; the place literally vibrates with the history of dance in this country.

We'll be there on August 4th to see Ballet du Grand Theatre de Geneve and I will report on our experience and will have some new pictures as soon as we get back to NYC. May the weather gods bless us!

Train Song

Every morning around 10:30 AM the Manhattan-bound Amtrak train shoots thru the underpass up in Inwood Hill Park. Often when I'm out hiking I'll hang out on the bridge to watch for the engine coming. Sometimes the driver will blow the horn for me and sometimes not.

Ever since I was a little kid I've liked trains. For someone who hates to travel, the train is the only way I like to go. For years I took the long trip to NYC from Syracuse and later the shorter one from Hartford. These days it's Metro North to New Haven to visit my friends in Connecticut.

When we were young, our parents would sometimes take us on a Sunday to Lyons, New York where several rail lines converged. We would meet our cousins and spend some time watching the trains come and go. My uncle would put pennies on the track and after a train passed we would try to find the melted blobs of copper. This picture is my favorite of us with the Huber cousins; standing are the tough guys, my brother Jeff (holding Butch) and cousin Robert; my dreamy cousin Sharon passed away a few years ago after a very long illness. I'm all dressed up with nowhere to go but looking impatient. In the front are my big-hearted cousin Paul and my wonderful sister Linda who - if she reads this - is hopefully planning a train trip to NYC this winter.

My parents were so much fun when we were young; here's my Dad with Linda & me having some cotton candy. As they got older, my parents lapsed into bickering which made visiting them something of a chore.  Once when Kenny & I drove all the way up there from Hartford to see them we went to the house for breakfast and they spent the whole time fussing about this and that with one another while Kenny & I wished we were back in our own kitchen. I guess couples get that way after many years together.

Here's my friend Ann(e) and me singing on the front steps of my sister's farmhouse. We might have been singing 'Freight Train' or one of the dozens of other country/folk songs in our repertoire. We honed our harmonies in Houston in 1973 where we would sit in a circle every night with Helen, Larry, Meme, her husband Dan and their little daughter Joni and whoever else had dropped in singing song after song until the wee hours, passing a joint and a bottle of Boone's Farm Strawberry Hill. Then we would put Jackson Browne's new LP SATURATE BEFORE USING on the turntable on endless repeat and fall asleep. It was still playing in the morning when we would get up all groggy and watch Larry make banana pancakes. He used to put club soda in the batter to make them ultra-light.

Dan and I had our secretive homosexuality in common; he married Meme and they had a baby in his hopeless attempt to play it straight. He was cute. Ann(e) told me she thought he was gay {at that point in time, it was not something people talked about casually} and once I woke up in the middle of the night to find him standing over me. But nothing happened; I still wasn't quite ready and it wasn't til Autumn of '73 that I finally made the big leap by which time I was back in NYC. A couple years later Dan committed suicide.

Ann(e) was the person who changed my life completely and forever. She didn't really DO anything, she just WAS. She drew me out of my shell with her quirky, self-deprecating humor and showed me it was OK to be different. From her example I found the courage to be myself - which may not sound like a big deal except if you had been the 'only' very closeted gay guy feeling utterly at odds with the world, knowing from age ten that you were radically unlike everyone else and growing up in an ultra-conservative town of 500 well-meaning but terribly straight-laced souls you would understand what meeting someone like Ann(e) was like. She had such an angelic voice - she probably still does.

One of the songs we loved to sing was the greatest train song of all time, Steve Goodman's CITY OF NEW ORLEANS (Note: the YouTube video of Goodman performing his hit tune has sadly been removed) which is a bittersweet anthem to the passing of the heyday of the railroad. Goodman died of leukemia at the tragically young age of 36 in 1984 leaving this timeless song for us. He was a huge fan of the Chicago Cubs and his ashes are buried under home plate at Wrigley Field.

The other train song that's stayed with me over the years is Janis Joplin's ME & BOBBY MCGEE. I loved Janis. Speaking of being yourself...

I'm looking forward to my next train ride to New Haven - on our way up to Jacob's Pillow.

Timely update for this family-oriented post: my sister just sent me this photo from her husband Dan's recent birthday party. She and Dan were high school sweethearts who got married within a week of graduating college. They have two sons, Brian and Steven (standing in the photo) and six 'grands': Beau, Gavin, Connor, Kate, Emma and Margaret. Dan (half-hidden, holding Gavin) and my sister live in a sort of rustic-modern house near the tiny town of Hannibal, NY where we all grew up. They run a golf course which they built themselves on a beautiful piece of farmland.   

Angel

Everyone who knows soprano Angela Fout calls her Angel. A few days ago, passing by Lincoln Center with Dmitry, I was surprised to see her crossing the street because I just assumed she was spending her summer in St. Gallen, Switzerland. She said she had gotten a bit homesick for the Big Apple so she had flown into town for a few days. What sheer luck that we should be in the same place at the same time - proof yet again of what a small world it is.  As you can see from the photo I spontaneously took, she is looking gorgeous with her angelic dimples and tons of star power.  Running into Angela makes a beautiful summer day in New York City all the more beautiful.

We caught up on her news quickly; she will be back in St. Gallen for a second season where her roles will include Agathe in FREISCHUTZ. She also has some notable engagements coming up here in the States,  including Mimi in BOHEME at San Antonio and Liu in TURANDOT with Atlanta Opera opposite Lori Phillips and Philip Webb.

Then she was off, leaving me with a couple of her wonderful Angel Hugs.

Alexandra Ansanelli: Royal Ballet's New Principal

Last week a friend e-mailed me to be on the lookout for a promotion notice from the Royal Ballet and it has now come thru: Alexandra Ansanelli, a dancer I loved when she was at NYC Ballet and whose sudden departure from the Company threw me for a loop, has become the Royal Ballet's newest principal ballerina.  I know that a lot of Alexandra's New York fans have still not gotten over her leap to the Royal, but how can we not rejoice at this news? New York's loss is the Royal's gain and they now have a wonderfully versatile and attractive dancer who can take on a wide variety of roles.

Alexandra first caught my eye in the corps and it seemed to me that she moved swiftly to the soloist rank and again made a quick and well-deserved jump to Principal. Even in the corps her star quality leapt out into the theatre. It was really upsetting when a very serious injury almost resulted in the end of her dancing career. For a while it seemed we might never see her onstage again. She bravely came back and I remember one night she was dancing a relatively small and 'easy' role and she took a bad spill. Undeterred, she popped back up and danced on. Within months she was back on top form and looking better than ever.

When I worked at Tower, Alexandra came in a few times. I always loved seeing her and she always took the time to chat amiably; she was also very sweet to one of my co-workers who had an enormous crush on her even though the fact that she  was a NYC Ballet ballerina meant nothing to him...he just had an eye for a pretty girl. I was really touched when he told me one morning that Alexandra had come in the day before to say goodbye - on a day that I happened to be off. I really regretted not having an opportunity to wish her well in London.

One of the last ballets I saw her in at NYCB (unaware at the time that she would be leaving) was Wheeldon's POLYPHONIA (Kolnik photo at left of her & Craig Hall in that ballet); I remember she made a particularly vivid impression that night, her dancing seeming to take on a new dimension of dramatic force. I thought what a thrill it was going to be to watch her over the next several seasons but as things turned out I only saw her one more time, in MIDSUMMER NIGHT''S DREAM at the end of the Spring season. I was dumbfounded a couple weeks later when a friend called to tell me that she had suddenly announced her decision to leave while the Company was at Saratoga.

Here are a few more Kolnik photos of Alexandra is some of her loveliest City Ballet roles: Dewdrop in NUTCRACKER; in AFTERNOON OF A FAUN with Sebastien Marcovici, and in STARS & STRIPES with Benjamin Millepied. {The portrait at the top of this post is also by Paul Kolnik.}  Best wishes to this wonderful dancer for a brilliant future at the Royal!

The Snowstorm Crew

I can't remember now exactly when it started but sometime during the Autumn season of 1969 at the New York City Opera, the Beverly Sills Snowstorm Crew was formed. It began as a spontaneous gesture: a group of her loyal young fans spent intermissions shredding programmes and when she stepped before the curtain to bow at the end of the opera we tossed enormous quantities of paper confetti from the front of the 5th Ring. We then raced to the stage door to see what effect our efforts had on our favorite soprano. Did she like it? "Yes, but Julius says I have to stay late and sweep it all up!"

For five or six years starting with her sensational Cleopatra in Handel's GIULIO CESARE (1966) a group of us were among the demented vanguard of the enormous Sills fan club which eventually included everyone in the USA (even my mother) and most of the rest of the known world. Night after night our beloved nightingale came out and trilled and spun her way through everything from Queen of the Night to the HOFFMANN heroines. We could not get enough of her roulades and her spectacular forays in alt.

{In fact, I had seen Beverly before she became BEVERLY; she sang Rosalinda in FLEDERMAUS when NYCO toured to Syracuse a year before her big break. I remember her dazzling high notes and splendid bosom.}

Constanze, Donna Anna, Marguerite in FAUST, Manon...she drove us to distraction. In 1969 an ultra-complete LUCIA DI LAMMERMOOR was mounted for her in which not just the soprano but her male colleagues added fiorature and cadenzas to their vocal lines. On the opening night, Beverly had a 103 degree fever but sang anyway and took five solo bows after the Mad Scene while we buried her in our biggest snowstorm ever. During the run of performances she had fun slightly varying her ornaments on each night.

One special evening was her return to the title role of Douglas Moore's BALLAD OF BABY DOE; it was a birthday present for her mother who wanted to hear her sing the role again. The Willow Song that night  was beyond ravishing and in the midst of our snowstorm we launched a rousing chorus of 'Happy Birthday Mrs. Silverman!" while Beverly beamed up at us from the stage. Here she is with her Mama and daughter Muffy, photographed by one of the faithful, Bill Hendrickson.

"Close, but no cigar!" we used to joke with her after every show; and then once after the most magical St. Sulpice scene in Massenet's MANON in which the Sills pianissimi seduced an entire theatre, we ran out at intermission and bought her a cheroot.  After yet another huge curtain-call blizzard we rushed backstage to tell her for the hundredth time how much we loved her. She good-naturedly popped the cigar in her mouth for my camera while word trickled down the line of autograph seekers that Beverly's crazy fans had surpassed themselves. However, I think our best effort came when we all went to the five & dime before a matinee and bought those small bottles of soap bubbles with the little plastic blowers inside.  We perched outside the stage door and filled the air at what is now Jerome Robbins Place with millions of bubbles prompting the real Bubbles to cry, as she stepped out of her cab: "You bunch of nuts!" 

In the days before e-mail and cellphones, we gathered at one Crewman's apartment waiting for a trans-Atlantic phone call on the morning after Beverly's La Scala debut in Rossini's L'ASSEDIO DI CORINTO. We were furious when the caller read one review to us that referred to the Sills instrument as "una vocina" ("a little voice") and were thrilled a few days later when the tapes arrived, full of some of the most remarkable singing we ever heard. Beverly sent me the photo of herself as Pamira a week later, remarking in her letter that she missed her snowstorms at Scala but was getting plenty of roses.

She sometimes sent little postcards, or she jotted notes to me and sent them via friends. Here's a couple of them that I have saved; they remind me so much of that carefree time and of the heyday
of the all-American diva. Like every other heyday, it was doomed to end and it did so sooner than I would ever have imagined.

By 1972 my diaries were beginning to be full of comments about the Sills tone being dry and metallic. Her unstinting vocalism in the Donizetti Tudor trilogy took a heavy toll on her instrument in my view, though the results were exciting to be sure. Slowly I began to feel that the edgy and increasingly unsupported quality of her singing and her tendency to flatten in mid-range were offsetting any joy I might derive from listening to her. Hearing her Met broadcast of L'ASSEDIO DI CORINTO was so painful for me, such a pallid and bitterly disappointing shadow of her Scala performance just a few years earlier.

To my mind there were several factors affecting her decline. Her success had come quite late in a long career; she was already forty when she made her splash as Cleopatra and had sung for two decades. When she hit the big time, NYC Opera cashed in on her success and she sang three or four nights a week for 5 or 6 years; on her off nights she would pop out to Boston or DC and sing concerts. She would get on TV with Carson or Cavett and gab away endlessly. All this put a lot of mileage on her cords. Her brutally self-abusive vocal approach to one of her greatest roles, Elisabetta in ROBERTO DEVEREUX, wore several layers of velvet off the tone each time she sang it. By 1975 she was sounding so ravaged that I wrote to her suggesting she either retrench or retire. Needless to say, that was the end of our correspondence.

Her recent death of course brought back memories of all this; I find it quite amusing when people cite various of her post-prime performances as representative of her standards. Hardly any of her commercial recordings give a really satisfying idea of what she sounded like though some of them are OK. You really have to turn to things like her Scala debut or her phenomenal FILLE DU REGIMENT from Carnegie Hall on February 13, 1970 (both these performances are available on the Opera D'Oro label) to hear what it was that drove audiences to the brink.

NYC Ballet @ Saratoga - Week 3

Jenifer Ringer and Damian Woetzel are among the dancers scheduled during the final week of NYC Ballet's season at the Saratoga Performing Arts Center.

SLOW DANCING - UPDATED!

UPDATE: I went back to view SLOW DANCING again on Sunday 7/23 with Tonya and we met up with Monica Wellington and Matt Murphy as well as some very nice people who read our blogs and recognized us (blush!). Matt is starting to look like his charming  self again after being under a nasty Carabosse-induced spell for several months.

If anything, the SLOW DANCING films seemed even more beautiful on second viewing and I was able to pry my eyes - at least a little - off the ballet dancers in the  presentation and watch some dancers in other styles. Today I found this wonderful and informative link which includes a beautifully expressed tribute by Wendy Whelan to her fellow dancer Herman Cornejo. Herman's video is surely one of the most fascinating of a collection which is full of fascination. Wendy was there again, watching. I love her...it's that simple.

Sunday July 16, 2007 - I met Tonya down at Lincoln Center this evening to take a look at David Michalek's video installation  SLOW DANCING which is being shown on the facade of the New York State Theatre as part of Lincoln Center Festival 2007. Dancers from various genres have been filmed at a rate of 1000 frames per second and then projected at standard speed, creating a feeling that they are moving VERY slowly.

Tonya has been over to watch these films more than once; you can read her initial impressions of the event from her blog entry here.  As she states, the distractions of Midsummer Night's Swing and of the maintenance crew on the Plaza would surely interfere with enjoyment of Michalek's work. But tonight being Sunday there was nothing happening on the Midsummer Night's Swing stage. It was a balmy, overcast night with a couple of light rain showers. An ever-changing crowd lounged on the ground and on the fountain, watching the films in silence.

In the two boxes at left (click to enlarge) you can read David Michalek's notes about this project. It says a lot about David's creative vision that he was able to bring such an unusual and complex undertaking to fruition. It seems to me to be very much a labor of love.

This is how the screen arrangement looks about 1/2 hour before the films begin to roll. The projectors are atop Avery Fisher Hall. I did find that the stage set-up for Midsummer Night's Swing really got in the way of the far-right screen and found myself watching the dancers on that end less intently.

As darkness settled over the Plaza, the show caught my attention immediately when Wendy appeared on the extreme left screen. In a diaphanous dress of pale green, Wendy slowed-down is even more mesmerizing than Wendy at normal speed. The workings of individual muscles make us keenly aware of what goes into the simplest of dance combinations; the motion radiates thru every centimeter of Whelan's physique right to the ends of her silky blonde hair. I have to admit I ignored the other two screens while Wendy was dancing.

As in any art exhibit, there are going to be certain works which capture your interest more than others. Naturally I was drawn to the ballet dancers who were included. It was astonishing and heart-warming to see the enchanting Isabelle Guerin, former etoile of the Paris Opera Ballet and a frequent guest at NYC Ballet during the 1990s. Her immaculately pointed feet were a revelation. Speaking of pointed feet, Herman Cornejo's are quite extraordinary and his film clip has an almost voluptuous quality. Alexei Ratmansky's extension is breathtaking as we watch its slow unfolding. Near the end of the series, a wonderful experience is afforded of viewing Allegra Kent and Janie Taylor on neighboring screens. Outside the realm of classical ballet, the clarity and expressiveness of Shen Wei and the prayerful lyricism of the beautiful Japanese dancer Koma, in a soft cerise robe, were particularly appealing.

Here are some small stills taken from the Playbill of some of the dancers I particularly enjoyed: Koma, Guerin, Herman C, Janie, Shen Wei, and Wendy.

Shortly after her appearance on the big screen, Wendy strolled onto the Plaza and we had a chance to talk to her; she heads back to Saratoga on Monday for their final week there. When I mentioned looking forward to seeing Allegra Kent on the screen, Wendy told me that Allegra's segment opens as she turns away from the audience and makes an expansive gesture towards the State Theatre, a sort of homage to her home stage. It was one of the most beautiful moments of the evening, and then when Janie Taylor materialized on the adjoining screen their movements seemed to enhance one another visually. Janie's hair turns into a waterfall and then, as she whips her head back, into a display of golden fireworks.

Abi Stafford, Jared Angle and Jean-Pierre Frohlich were among the crowd.

It goes without saying that not every film segment is going to hold the attention of every viewer. We are each going to have our sphere of interest. I did find a couple of the clips a little bland, but other more interesting things were happening on the adjacent screens so you can easily shift focus. The two hours went by quickly and left me feeling hypnotized by the individual dancers and more deeply in awe - if that is possible - of the physical process and the rigorous demands on the body behind the power and beauty of dance.

AFTER-IMAGE: The dancers appeared in my dreams, or at least in that foggy state between sleep and waking early this morning. I feel that these images will last forever in my sub-consciousness and are likely to spring up unbidden over the years to come. Obviously these films made a very deep impression, including some clips that didn't seem especially memorable at the time.

I have also been thinking this morning how fortunate I am to be living in the Era of Wendy Whelan. Here's a photo Tonya took of me & Wendy while we were enjoying the films last night.   Living in New York City for the past decade while Wendy has been at the peak of her career and also has been Christopher Wheeldon's muse has been such an  experience to treasure. And having the opportunity to meet her, first as a customer at Tower and later just casually as a fan, is one of those things that could only happen in Gotham.

Another, more shadowy shot of me & Wendy...and of the poster on the front of the State Theatre listing the dancers who appear in the films.

I'm hoping to have another chance to go down and watch this presentation again. I can easily see why Tonya is somewhat addicted to it.

NYC Ballet @ Saratoga - Week 2

Despite the distractions of non-dance-related events, NY City Ballet's summer season at Saratoga moves into its second week. Let's see what Midsummer Magic has to say about the Saratoga audience's reaction to the new Wheeldon.

Over at The Winger Gwyneth Muller shares photos from a pig roast which the dancers enjoyed on a day off from performing. Among the pictures are NYCB's newest moms, Pauline Golbin with her son August and Dena Abergel with her daughter Odelia. Bring me back one of those cupcakes, please...

Encore Kyra!

While we wait for further news from Saratoga, here are some more photos of the curtain calls at Kyra's farewell.

Let's Dance

Over the weekend my friend Nelson came down from Connecticut to help me pass the time while Wei was busy with his family in Queens. We were fortunate to have the use of my friend Paul's condo in the Village and we went sunbathing over by the River and over-indulged in calories at Manatus and The Village Den. When you are hosting a younger guest you are liable to be roped into doing something out of your normal sphere of activity. And so when I asked Nelson what he would like to do on Friday night he said: "Let's go out dancing!"  My first thought was to give him the keys to the condo and send him out to dance the night away on his own somewhere; but that would not have been very gallant of me as a host. Back in the 80s I spent a lot of time at dance clubs - in fact that is where Kenny & I first met Nelson in 1990. So I know my way around a dance floor though I guess you could say my dancing is more notable for it's stamina than for any  particular assets of style or technique. My plan was to accompany Nelson to the bar and let him do the dancing while I watched the crowd from the sidelines.  Nelson is one of those people who is unabashed by the idea of dancing by himself; in fact he tends to turn away anyone who might ask him to dance and to simply keep on grooving in his own private world. I knew he'd be fine on the dance floor on his own.

So I threw on my Winger tee and we walked over to The Monster. I'm sure Nelson would have preferred a younger and more buff crowd, but The Monster was close, inexpensive, and I could feel comfortable there because it is not a youth-and-beauty oriented establishment. We got there around 10:30 and I said we would stay til around midnight. We sat in the corner; neither of us were drinking. The music was heavy on the oldies; I was hoping to hear Taylor Dayne's TELL IT TO MY HEART unearthed, but the closest we got was the Annie Lennox monumental hit SWEET DREAMS (Are Made of This). {Photo: my Winger T always attracts attention; at my age I need all the help I can get...}

Being back in a dance bar was an amusing experience for me; I surveyed the crowd and the darkened room with memories of other nights and other times flooding back. After a while we were bopping and stomping in place and then Nelson said "Let's dance!" I felt at ease as I was neither the oldest nor the clumsiest person on the dance floor. People danced up to us, trying in vain to get Nelson's attention. They must have thought it odd that he would go out dancing with his father. We danced in two 45-minute streaks and around 2:00 we decided to leave but then a song came on that Nelson liked and we danced on til 3:00 AM. Getting back to the condo I felt exhausted and knew I would sleep like a log but - just like in my younger days - the beat doesn't subside in your head for several hours. I didn't sleep at all.

Nelson reminded me that the last time I was on a dance floor was in 1997 at Tea Dance in Provincetown. It was always fun to walk into Tea behind Nelson; he is so modest and genuinely unaware of the commotion he can cause. That afternoon as we passed by, someone yelled at him: "You are gorgeous!" and later a man came up and presented his business card, offering Nelson $200 on the spot to take his shirt off and be photographed. His camera was at the ready, but Nelson only smiled shyly and turned to me and said "Let's go dance!"