Brittney Feit on learning an Elo ballet

Brittney Feit joined TBII this season after studying ballet with Edward Ellison. She placed 3rd in the semi-finals of the 2010 Youth America Grand Prix, as well as 1st place with her ensemble. This year, Brittney has joined the main company to dance in Swan Lake, The Nutcracker and Taming of the Shrew. Last week, Brittney was chosen as one of two TBII members to understudy for Jorma Elo’s Slice to Sharp. We caught up with Brittney after rehearsal and asked her what it is like to understudy one of the soloist roles in an Elo ballet.

Brittney in Company class, photo by Rosalie O'Connor.

Well, Monday morning, I walked into Studio C for company class and sat down near my fellow TBII dancers. One of them said to me, "You must be so excited about Slice to Sharp rehearsal!" I hadn't even looked at the board yet - I was called to rehearsal along with my friend Carrie Ruth, who is also in TBII. We were very excited to say the least… we would be working with guest stager Nancy Euverink and would get to observe some of the company's finest dancers learn and prepare this Jorma Elo ballet.

Early in the day I was called last minute to a rehearsal with Soo Youn, Ashley, Alfonso, Ma and Claudio. They had already started so I just had to dive in head first. It was probably for the best - no time to get nervous! We learned the beginning of a pas de deux, breaking down each moment to perfect the shapes and transitions. All the while we worked without music, so the steps could be mastered before the challenge of timing came into play. I was very happy because my partner was Claudio, who I had worked with for a long stretch of time to understudy Marie in the Nutcracker and also performed with in the Winter Celebration Gala.


Brittney Feit and Claudio Cocino, The Nutcracker, photo by Julie Shelton.

I can tell that working on Slice to Sharp is going to be a great learning experience for me. Already I feel that I am learning to move in a way that is foreign to me, whether faster than usual, or just altogether different, and I know this will allow me to mature as a dancer. The past week wasn't easy - I'm sure I'm not the only one with throbbing feet at night, but I can honestly say that between Elo's exciting choreography and Vivaldi's beautiful music, I am having so much fun!

Brittney learns Slice to Sharp with fello TBII and Tulsa Ballet dancers.

An Interview with Nancy Raffa

Nancy Raffa is in Tulsa to set Twyla Tharp’s Push Comes to Shove. This fast-paced ballet premiered in 1976 to rave reviews. The New York Times called the premiere "The Event of the Year". Nancy Raffa had the opportunity to dance in that premiere, along with Mikhail Baryshnikov.

Born in Brooklyn, New York, Raffa received her early training with world-renowned Kirov-trained teacher Madame Gabriella Darvash. In 1980, she became the youngest and first American female to win the Gold Medal at the Prix de Lausanne competition in Switzerland. The same year, Raffa joined Makarova and Company on Broadway. This troupe was created by Natalia Makarova when she retired from dancing with American Ballet Theatre and was not chosen as the Artistic Director, a post she lost to Mikhail Baryshnikov. Makarova carefully selected several of the world’s top ballet stars for her company, but she also chose 29 student dancers she personally discovered in ballet schools. Raffa was one of those lucky students. Following a performance of Paquita, where she danced the lead role as the understudy for an injured Makarova, Clive Barnes wrote in the New York Times, “Raffa made a dazzling debut. This girl is the real thing.”

Baryshnikov agreed with Barnes and invited Raffa to take class at ABT. Six months later, at age 16, he offered her a contract to join the company. She remained there until 1986, when curiosity led her to work in Chile at the Ballet de Santiago where she was a principal dancer. She was also a principal dancer at Ballet National Française de Nancy and then with Miami City Ballet. She is currently the Ballet Mistress at The Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis School at American Ballet Theatre.

We caught up with Nancy after rehearsals to ask a few questions.

Your mother was a ballet pianist, and has worked for American Ballet Theatre and Miami City Ballet. Who became interested in ballet first – your mother or you?

My mom became a pianist for ballet after I began studying ballet. I was at Ballet Arts Studio at Carnegie Hall when a pianist was a no show and my teacher was so upset there was no music. My mom was watching my class so she offered to site read because she did that well, and she did so well with that class that my teacher spoke to the head of the studio to give my mom work as a ballet pianist. Are you a musician as well? I come from musical and artistic family (my mom and two brothers play the piano, my dad was a saxophonist, my grandmother a singer, and another brother an actor, and another brother a film editor). I learned piano when I was a little girl and sang in the choir, but I did not stay with it; I dove into the ballet studies full time.

You trained with Madame Gabriella Darvash in New York City. She is said to have a unique teaching style. Does it follow the Vaganova method in which she was trained at the Kirov Academy?

Yes much of the basis of her training was the best of what she learned from the Vagonova method during her 9 years in Russia, but Madame figured out a way to teach technique that was unique. Her method stemmed from her scientific study of physics and its application to the human body and the body’s way of moving. She also has an amazing artistic and musical sense and was a choreographer.

It must have been truly amazing to win the Gold Medal at the Prix de Lausanne at age 15. Do you remember how you felt at that time?

It was so unexpected. I had just turned 15 and it was by chance that a man by the name of John Potter discovered me one month before the 1980 Prix de Lausanne. He watched me in class at Madame's school in New York and offered to sponsor me to go. I came from a very poor family and my father suffered from Parkinson's; there were 5 kids and mom supporting us with freelance piano playing and welfare, so going abroad never even crossed my mind. Madame had given me a scholarship and I knew I loved dancing and wanted to be a dancer one day, so I just worked hard in my classes. The fight to Switzerland for the competition was my first trip on an airplane, to Europe and seeing other student dancers. Alexandra Ferri was at that competition, as well as Deborah Bull from the Royal Ballet and Gen Horiushi who later went to NYC Ballet. When my name was called, all I could think of was my family back home in Brooklyn, and I sobbed all the way to center stage to collect my prize money and gold medal. It was overwhelming, but one of my dearest and most special personal memories in my lifetime.

Over the years you’ve danced with many of the greatest ballet dancers in the world. Who would you say made the biggest impression on you?

Without a doubt Fernando Bujones was one of the most influential partners I worked with. He gave me support and encouragement, not only when I danced a lot with at ABT, but also later on in life we worked together in Miami and then when he was directing Orlando Ballet. Fernando became a dear friend to me and taught me the most important lesson after our debut in Paquita. He gave me a stuffed animal signed by him, love Fernando, with the message: Nancy never stop believing in yourself even when everyone around you seems not to at times. Have a goal, and no matter the politics, move forward with faith and courage. I loved Fernando dearly for so many reasons.

You were seriously injured during rehearsal with Miami City Ballet in 1992. Can you describe what it is like to be unable to dance, to perform?

It was in a way a loss of self. For your whole life you mold yourself into being the person that does that task of being a dancer, without that I felt lost for a long time. Who or what do you credit with your recovery? A need to know myself at a deeper level and search for a greater meaning and happiness in life than that which is limited to only one’s identity with the self. Dr Paul Canali a holistic healer from Miami, is who I credit with giving me the tools I needed medically, mentally, but most importantly spiritually to heal and make a growth and rebirth into a new person with a new identity that eventually brought me back to the world of dance again in a new and even more enriching way.

Is this your first time to visit Tulsa? What is your impression?

Yes, this is my first time. It is a friendly city that has a welcoming energy to it. Tulsa Ballet and its artistic staff and dancers are wonderful artists. They are so professional, and they are super people also. I am having a wonderful experience working here.

You danced Push Comes to Shove during your time with American Ballet Theatre. Do you have any specific memories of that time?

Oh yes: Misha dancing like no one I have ever seen in my life! And I remember all of us walking off stage, laughing, having had the best time. We joked about how scared we were of making a mistake in front of Twyla. And Misha's was telling jokes in the wings right before I went out to dance the quartet with him, Peter Fonseca, and Carolyn Brown!

Push Comes To Shove is known as a very fun but very fast-paced ballet. What is your process of teaching the choreography?

You bet it is!!!! Basically, I break down each section of the choreography and divided the necessary time to teach the steps. Then I put the rhythms and counts to the steps and give the dancers the essence of the sense and quality the steps need. Then, I put the music on. I do this with each section and then connect the different dancers/characters, and the repeat as time permits When all the material is taught, I can put the larger sections together and run them for sequence and stamina and finally, when I come back a couple of weeks before the show, I will coach it and clean it for the premiere.

We Are What We Wear: A Dancer's Perspective

We ran across this interesting article and wanted to share it. Enjoy!

We Are What We Wear: A Dancer's Perspective
By Julie Diana

Julie Diana, a journalist and principal dancer for Pennsylvania Ballet, discusses how costumes shape a dancer’s body, movement and attitude.



Alexandra Bergman in Vertiginous Thrill of Exactitude. Photo by Sharon Bradford.

Imagine you’re wearing a giant, floppy Frisbee around your hips. As you walk, it adds weight and bounce to your step. Try to turn quickly and the saucer skirt lags behind, like it has a stubborn will of its own. This is how it feels to move in the tutu from William Forsythe’s The Vertiginous Thrill of Exactitude. The costume might have space-age style and flair, but to dance in it requires a very grounded sense of strength and coordination.

The clothes we wear onstage do more than help create a visual aesthetic. They function as an extension of our own bodies, or like a trusted partner. We have to feel comfortable with added layers of fabric against our skin and confident that they’ll present us in the best way possible. Costumes also transform us into the roles we dance like an elaborate game of “dress up”: We are regal in bejeweled tutus and tiaras and then animalistic in flesh colored leotards with our hair down. During a performance, we are what we wear. Our costumes shape our bodies, affect the way we move, and influence the way we feel about ourselves.

When most people think of ballet, they picture perky, classical tutus. These costumes are a typical part of our wardrobe, yet they have been tweaked or replaced altogether for neoclassical and contemporary pieces. Take the Vertiginous tutu, one of the most whimsical costumes I’ve ever worn. The skirt and leotard bodice are made of neon green velvet that is both stretchy and breathable, while the back and neckline look naked to the eye but are actually covered with a thin, nude mesh. There is no elaborate beading, embellishment, or stiff tulle. Instead, designer Stephen Galloway chose an eye-popping color and a sexy, geometric shape to reflect Forsythe’s playful and extreme choreography. It is classicism with a twist. Even the men are dressed in purple velvet shorts and leotards with flesh-colored backs. And everyone has bare legs.

In contemporary works, it is common for dancers to perform without tights. Muscles tend to look more defined; visible flesh evokes a kind of informal physicality. Yet I always feel naked - cold, even. There is something about a thin layer of nylon from waist to toe that makes me feel dressed, warm, and prepared to dance. Maybe I’m conditioned to feel this way after years of putting on tights like a daily meditative practice. But not all dancers are so attached. “I don’t mind the feel of bare legs,” says Principal Dancer Martha Chamberlain. “It takes a little while to warm up and feel comfortable, but I think it looks interesting from a distance. As far as doing close ups, I’m so scarred on my legs [from being a tomboy] that I need a base tan to make it look okay.”

Pink tights can hide a dancer’s skin imperfections, but they are also very revealing when it comes to line and technique. It’s easy to see when our legs are not fully extended, properly crossed, or moving with articulation. Everything is exposed, particularly in a ballet like Christopher Wheeldon’s Polyphonia. It is a stark, neoclassical piece whose costuming is reminiscent of George Balanchine’s Agon and The Four Temperaments.The men are dressed in simple unitards while the women wear leotards and pink tights - no jackets, skirts, or coverage of any kind. “Every little step you take needs to be the best is can possibly be,” says Soloist Gabriella Yudenich. “The costume shows everything.” It inspires us to get back to basics, to really lengthen our lines and focus on proper alignment. Its simplicity also showcases the intricacies of Wheeldon’s choreography and contrasts the complexities of György Ligeti’s score.

Now, cue the red pointe shoes, slouchy clothes, and sneakers. Twyla Tharp’s In the Upper Room takes a dramatic turn with costumes by fashion designer Norma Kamali. The clothes look pedestrian; everyone starts dancing in a variety of slouchy shirts, skirts, and pants. Not often do dancers get to perform in clothes that feel as comfortable as pajamas. “The costume really helps with Twyla’s movement,” says Yudenich. “Some moments have to be soft, especially in your upper body. The loose-fitting top makes it flow a little bit.” On bottom, she wears a combination of nude nylons, red socks, and red pointe shoes. “It cuts my leg line, since we’re all red from the ankle down,” she says. “I have to point my feet as hard as I can because they really stick out.” While the leotards in Polyphonia expose the dancers’ bodies in a uniform and academic way, the Upper Room costumes focus more on style and functionality.

The Stompers in Upper Room, for example, do not have to point their feet at all. In fact they’re encouraged to fling themselves around and not worry about form. The Stompers wear white leather Reebok sneakers with thin pieces of suede glued to the soles, which enable the dancers to slide across the marley. “You don’t have to warm your feet up,” says Soloist Francis Veyette. “It’s great because there’s a lot of support and you can really grip the floor. It only gets problematic late in the show when you end up sweating a lot in the shoes.” The piece is so demanding that the dancers’ perspiration makes the sneakers feel squishy, like they’ve stepped in a puddle. The women Stompers have a gluey mess in their shoes because they rosin their nylons and socks to avoid slipping in the sneaker. Ballet dancers aren’t used to working in thick rubber soles. Pointe shoes are easy to manipulate because they mold to our feet. Sneakers, however, have a bulky ledge to fall over, and it’s easy to sprain a foot or an ankle. If a dancer is about to fall, it’s safer to just go with it.

That seems to be the theme for dancers in Tharp’s ballet - just go with it. They reach the point of exhaustion, are ready to collapse, and then dance some more. The vocals layered over Phillip Glass’ music in the final section are like angel voices, reflecting the dancers’ state of euphoria. Even the costuming suggests fatigue: The color red appears more and more throughout the ballet as dancers slowly shed layers of clothing. It’s as if their cores are so overheated that they can’t bear the weight and warmth of extra fabrics. The female Stompers, like everyone in the ballet, finish wearing much less than when they started. They bow in jazzy red leotards, nude nylons, red socks, and sneakers. Flash back to the 1980’s, and the Stompers look like they’ve been through a marathon aerobics class. “That’s the worst part,” says Chamberlain, “when the lights come up and you remember what you’re wearing. But when you’re dancing and moving, you don’t even care.”

Chamberlain’s experience is ideal: To lose yourself in a role and dance without inhibition. What we wear during a performance helps us do this. And although we prepare for each piece wearing things like practice tutus in the studio, pink tights for rehearsal, and socks over our gym shoes, nothing compares to putting on the real costume with full hair and make-up. When we walk out onstage under the lights, we are momentarily transformed.