The Athlete and the Artist: Why I Love Ballet
Ballet is as much a sport as an art. Why a dancer must be both an athlete and an artist, and the years of training behind every effortless moment.
Read the essay →Ballet is my practice, my humility and my joy. It asks for the discipline of an athlete and the heart of an artist, and it has quietly shaped how I lead.
Ballet is often admired for its beauty alone. What moves me most is that it is also a sport. A dancer must have the strength, flexibility, balance and stamina of an athlete, and the musicality, imagination and heart of an artist. Without either, the dancing is incomplete.
I am an adult ballet student, and every class deepens that respect. Whenever I can, you will find me at the barre, starting again with pliés.
Every suspended leap and unhurried balance rests on strong feet, steady ankles, deep hip rotators and a core that keeps everything aligned. Dancers train like athletes because they are athletes, and they must rest, recover and care for their bodies like athletes too.
The effortlessness is earned, one class at a time.
Technique is only the foundation. A dancer must also hear the phrase, shape a gesture and make an audience believe. The same step can be heartbreaking or joyful, depending on what the dancer brings to it.
That is the part of ballet that cannot be counted, only felt.
A ballet class follows a sequence handed down for generations. It is careful physical training, and a quiet ritual as well.
The class begins by bending the knees, slowly and deeply. Pliés warm the joints and wake the legs. Everything else rests on them.
The foot brushes along the floor and stretches to a perfect point. It is how dancers learn to articulate every part of the foot.
Circles, melting bends and quick, sharp strikes. Each one builds control, strength and the coordination to move with the music.
Slow, sustained movement. The leg unfolds, the balance holds. Adagio asks for strength and calm at the same moment.
Away from the barre, dancers turn, jump and travel. This is where the preparation becomes flight.
A gracious bow to the teacher and the pianist. The class ends, as it should, with thanks.
Each of these asks a dancer to be an athlete and an artist at once.
One ballerina, two souls: the tender Odette and the dazzling Odile. It asks for lyricism and stamina in the same evening, including the Black Swan’s famous fouettés.
A village girl’s heartbreak in the first act, then the moonlit forgiveness of the second, among the Wilis. Acting and technique are inseparable.
First staged in 1789, it is one of the oldest ballets still performed. Ashton’s 1960 version for The Royal Ballet is pure sunlight: ribbons, a clog dance and a great deal of charm.
A sweeping score that many choreographers have set, among them Kenneth MacMillan and John Cranko. The balcony pas de deux asks the dancers to fly and to act at once.
The Rose Adagio, in which Aurora balances as four suitors each offer her a rose, is one of ballet’s great tests of nerve and poise.
Born in Paris in 1846 and later reworked by Marius Petipa in St Petersburg. Today it is loved for its grand pas, a sparkling showcase of classical precision.
Ballet is as much a sport as an art. Why a dancer must be both an athlete and an artist, and the years of training behind every effortless moment.
Read the essay →Starting ballet as a grown-up: the humility of the mirror, patience with the body, and why being a beginner again makes for kinder leadership.
Read the essay →How dancers turn without losing their balance, and what fixing your gaze on one steady point teaches about focus in a busy season.
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