Practicing to Make It Count

Countless hours practicing running pinwheel turns => showtime!

You know the feeling: that sinking sensation that, despite all the time you've put into working on getting better at something, you're nowhere near where you need to be.  Maybe you're still unable to execute a clean series of brisés volés to the left (me!); maybe you've been slaving away on fouette turns and are nowhere near the emblematic 32 in a row every ballerina aspires to.

Not Making Progress?  How Are You Practicing?
"I've done ballet for three years and I'm still no good!" is a cry of dismay I often hear from my mother, an adult beginner.  "But, Mamee," I explain patiently, "you're following very well but you haven't yet learned the fundamentals."  Dancers know that in order to gain technical prowess it is absolutely essential to understand how to use one's muscles, how to use one's body, the floor, and gravity to do what is required to make the required movements possible, much less make them beautiful. You must learn and internalize the basics. Unfortunately, my mother doesn't yet grasp this concept, and continues doing the movements in the same way she's always done them.

The point is, if you keep doing the same thing that isn't working over and over again, you're probably not going to see much improvement, if any.  My mother has indeed taken many ballet classes, sometimes going as much as five times a week.  The issue isn't frequency.  The issue is the nature of the practicing she does.

My mother takes open ballet classes, meaning she goes through a standard 1.5 hour technique class for adults with varying levels of experience.  The instructor cannot reasonably be asked to consistently teach the fundamentals that children learn as beginners to build a solid foundation for advancement.  Busy adults generally don't want to give up their hard-earned money for one whole month of concentrated work on how to stand properly in first position, or how to do a tendu in the correct manner. (1) In glossing over these essential fundamentals, however, adult beginning students like my mother find it very difficult to improve.

The Art of Deliberate Practice
This brings me to what Anders Ericsson, a professor of psychology at Florida State University, calls "deliberate practice": practice with the objective of improving your performance. (2) According to Ericsson:

"Deliberate practice is about changing your performance, setting new goals and straining yourself to reach a bit higher each time."

Get Feedback
This means that you have to understand what you need to do to improve.  You need to put yourself out there and ask for feedback.  Don't be afraid of losing face - you want to hear the good, the bad, and the ugly.  Remember - this is for you!  If you don't want to know what you don't want to hear about how you're doing, ask yourself: do you really want to improve?  Keep your eyes on the prize: you and eventual mastery!

Repeat Your Strategic Practice Routine
Once you know what you need to do to get better, do it. Over and over and over again.  In Chinese opera, it is said that one small hand gesture is the product of 10 years of concentrated labor.

Classically trained dancers are no stranger to this.  Even if you're an international superstar who has received 10 minutes of standing ovation at a major opera house the night before, you're back at the studio the next morning working on that step that didn't go quite perfectly.  It's the same formula on the road to mastering whatever it is you want to do.

Don't Be Afraid to Ask for Help!
Put that pride away.  My mother still refuses to sign up for private ballet classes because she's afraid the instructor will think she's stupid if she doesn't pick things up right away.  If you are having trouble understanding how something works or how to do it, ask!  Otherwise, you'll always be stuck at the same place.  As my piano teacher says, "If you were perfect, you wouldn't be here, would you?"

Work On the Areas You're Having Trouble With
My success rate in executing clean turns to the right when I dance is low compared to my left turns. I can lift my left leg higher and more easily than my right leg.  Instead of working twice as much on turns to the right, or stretching to increase flexibility in my right leg, I could just do what takes less effort and look pretty good doing it.  This is a real pitfall.  What if a choreographer comes in and asks everyone to execute a series of turns to the right?  I'm not going to get cast in that piece!

That said, it can be advantageous to focus on one's strengths, and I admit I do like being cast in strong, athletic, or roles that require more acting, as these come more naturally to me and I feel in my element.  In general, if you really are not a particular type of dancer (e.g. adagio, brio, etc.), it may not be worth it to always try to go against your natural grain.

But when it comes to mastering something that you really want to do, you do have to focus on the problem areas - at least to the point of gaining enough proficiency towards overall progress.

It's Not Going to Be Easy, But You're Worth It!
As motivational expert Daniel Pink points out in his wonderful book Drive, "Prepare for the process to be mentally and physically exhausting."

If it was going to be easy, do you think it would be as interesting or worth doing?  Still, it's tough to make that commitment. I always dread working on running pinwheel turns in Chinese dance, but it's a staple technique and to get this down is to be able to dance many, many pieces.  Plus, I remind myself that I have come a long way since the days I first started learning it - I usually ended up either on the floor, or wanting to throw up (or both)!

But is it worth it?  Oh, yes. The free-flying sensation of pure movement that is owned by my body is worth every bit of repetition, N x 100 (or 1000, as it were).  As long as it's deliberate practice, that is.

So don't give up! If you know you want to improve and it really means something to you, practice with these fundamentals in mind:

• Approach practice with the singular goal of improving your performance
• Seek feedback - the good, the bad, the ugly
• Work especially on areas that are holding you back from making progress
• Do it over and over and over again

So if you want it badly enough, do yourself a huge favor and commit to improvement. Figure out what you want, and then find ways to do it really well.  You won't see it in 3 days, but by the 3000th day, you bet there will be a marked difference.  Onward, and upward!


(1) Excellent article on Dance Advantage on why the simple tendu one of the most important building blocks of classical dance

(2) For more on Professor Ericsson and the concept of deliberate practice, see this Forbes article

Muscles! Princess! Muscles! Princess!

Trying my darndest to be graceful!

The integration of these diametrically opposed concepts is what a ballet dancer grapples with from day 1 as a student throughout the entirety of her career.  (Notice I didn't state "female ballet dancer" since the all-too-beautiful divas of Les Ballets Trockadero de Monte Carlo and Les Ballets Grandiva are wonderful examples of this dichotomy.  I love how each ballerina is referred to in the feminine.  Oh, to be Svetlana Lofatkina!)

A ballerina must be as strong as steel to perform technical feats that are - let's face it - largely unnatural to the human body.  But the audience must only see the luminous radiance of a beautiful woman: regal, poised, yet delicate and pliant.

So we work hard on building strength and length, meticulously and carefully.  We must be strong, but we must not bulk up in the wrong places.  "Lengthen, don't grip!  Do you want thunder thighs?"  If I had a penny for every time I've been told that ...

And when we're strong enough, our appearance and movement must not be the embodiment of that strength.  We must be strength sublimated into grace.  We must be strength in agility, fortresses of ethereal beauty.   

It's not easy for me.  I'm naturally a tomboy and love "strong" roles.  It's at once a great challenge and completely frustrating to work on "girly" roles.  I'm often told that I look too hefty in my upper body, that I need to soften.  I soften, and then I'm told I'm not regal enough.  I straighten my back, my elbows all the way to the tips of my fingers, and lift my chin a little.  No, no, no, too stiff!  And so it goes.

I owe the title of this post to one of my favorite teachers, Ramon from Ballet San Jose.  "You must feel like you're the most important person in the world," he smiled, encouraging me to show the carriage befitting a ballet dancer during center adagio.  "You are a princess!"

In nearly the same breath he gave another correction as I executed a développé écarté (slow extension of the leg to the side) - "Muscles!" to let me know I needed to tighten even more to smooth the movement into a beautiful unfurling of leg.  I repeated the movement.  "Princess!" he exclaimed, lengthening his back and chest to indicate the lifted, proud yet relaxed look I should be projecting.  "Muscles!  Princess!" he repeated as I tried again.

Finally I did it to his satisfaction, and only after I closed into fifth position carefully did I burst into laughter; I couldn't help myself.  At Ramon's quizzical look, I gestured to my lower body, "Muscles!" and then my upper body, "Princess!" and after a beat repeated in quick succession,  "Muscles!  Princess!"

Ramon smiled and said in the indulgent manner only he can pull off, "Yes, that's right."  (I really appreciate Ramon's patience and sense of humor ... if it had been another teacher I probably wouldn't have allowed myself to laugh!)

Even as I struggle with projecting strength and delicacy as a seamless whole, I'm gratified to know that at least I'm improving.  I admit I can see the difference in more recent performances, as well as when my Chinese dance coach gives me a rare and unexpected compliment: "It's a little more natural, now," she told me not long ago, and then gave me more corrections on how to improve.  When Chinese dance gets girly, it's really girly.

I'm ready to keep learning, to keep trying to become more graceful.

So, bring it on!!  Er, I mean, yes, please!  ;-)

Susan vs. Kettlebell

I love me some kettlebell ... sort of!

No, it's not a legal battle:  I'm on day five of my self-imposed Two Week Challenge at a local gym, and what a journey it's been so far!  In addition to taking hour-long classes auspiciously named "Body Sculpt" and "Muscle Mix", I've been working with a personal trainer in half-hour sessions.  I found out mid-week that my trainer, Nic, is known as "The Punisher".  He is a Mixed Martial Arts athlete and looks like it.  Like most dancers, I am pretty good at driving myself hard, so I wanted someone who would push me - Nic certainly is tough!

My goals of cross-training and exploring different ways of working my body are certainly being met.  I thought that as a dancer, I'd already learned how to use my muscles in myriad ways, especially with my work in Chinese ethnic dance.  But as soon as I started the challenge at the gym, I learned just how much dance has trained me to use my body in one way: Up and forward, on the balls of my feet, always stretching towards the heavens.  Even Korean dance, the most "down" I've ever had to be, is still forward compared to what I'm working on now.

Back on Your Heels!
One of the first things I learned was the proper "squat" stance.  It is a prerequisite to many exercises, including one that involves holding a kettlebell and swinging it between the legs, then snapping the hips upward to swing the kettlebell up.  After Nic showed me the stance and moves, I gamely picked up the weight and nearly swung myself out across the room.

"Back on the heels!  Sit in your hips!  Butt back into your hips!  On the heels, snap the hips, on the heels!" Nic barked, albeit in an encouraging way.

Wait, what do you mean, "back on the heels" and "sit in your hips"?  This was the very antithesis of everything I've ever learned!  It suddenly dawned on me as I panted and sweated that this was going to be very tough and interesting, indeed.

After a grueling half hour of variations on kettlebell routines, involving single arm swings, presses overhead, circling the kettlebell around the head with elbows tight, and so forth, I was feeling it everywhere.  The next day I could barely bend my legs without acutely feeling all these new muscles that I'd never engaged before, since I am never back on my heels.

By the way, when I first laid eyes on the 18lb iron thing Nic had placed before me on the floor, all I could think of was those weights that would, if you were unlucky, drop on your character and cause his untimely demise in the old sidescroller game Dark Castle.  I certainly wasn't going to let the kettlebell crush me, and yesterday was my second session of kettleball delight - a series of 5 exercises, repeated twice.

And you know what, I felt stronger the second time around!  I felt more secure in the back of my heels, butt so far out that it felt like it was in outer space.  However, this position really does enable you to snap your hips and get that kettlebell up so you're not only using brute force in the arms.  It works your whole body like you wouldn't believe.

Two unexpected side effects of this work:

1) I am acutely aware of where I'm weak and where I've been cheating in dance.  Nearly all moves are done in perfect parallel in the fitness world, and if you're attached to a kettlebell even the smallest imbalance is magnified 100 fold (or so it feels).  I realized that I've been skewing my body in arabesque to the left much more grossly than I'd imagined.  I felt how much less strong I am on that side, and now know what I need to work on.  Bless/Darn that kettlebell!

2) Going to ballet technique class after a fitness workout reminds me of how much I love ballet, and how much it is "home" for my body.  I get to engage those familiar muscles, to lengthen, to stretch to the sky.  It was like a breath of fresh air, despite my soreness.  Ah ...

Week Two, here we come.  I'll best you yet, kettlebell!

Mind over Body

Today's ballet technique class was taught by Laura, whom I'd never taken class with before.  She mentioned she had recently returned from a decade or dancing and teaching in Amsterdam and was now mostly teaching at Alonzo King's LINES Ballet and at the ODC in San Francisco, which was exciting to hear.  Her class did not disappoint - it was full of class-strict, classical staples, but yet wonderfully influenced by a slightly contemporary edge.

What really got my attention was Laura's singular focus on the influence the mind has over the body.  After we finished a combination at the barre that ended in a front passe balance, she asked us what our thoughts were as we got into the balance.  To be honest, my thoughts were something like: "Okay, balance coming up.  HUT!" and as a result, as Laura helpfully pointed out to me, my chin was lifted a little too high, and my chest, neck, and shoulders tight.  Was I even breathing?  Probably not enough!

Now I'm pretty proud of my strength and the balances I'm able to execute.  But does that mean I can't improve or make it easier?  As I found out, I certainly can make it easier, and present a more beautiful presence at the same time.  Laura exhorted us to think very positive thoughts as we embarked on our balances.  "I am so ON today!" she exclaimed gleefully as she pulled up into a passe balance.  We all laughed, but when we tried it from there and throughout the rest of the class, I was humbled by the difference it made.

In addition, I received another crucial correction from Laura: I'm pushing my chest out too soon when hitting a balance, especially at the end of a moving combination.  I was to pique up into a back attitude en releve (step onto the ball of the foot, with the other leg bent behind me), and I was giving the full "Ta-DA!" with my upper body way too soon.  "If you give it all at the beginning, there's nothing else left!  Save it a little, then when you know you've established the balance, then show it all off!"    

The result of these two observations was that I felt I could balance for longer, with less tension in my upper body, and it was just ... less effort.  As I stepped into my attitude balance, it was not about "nailing it", it was about establishing a presence and then blooming into the full movement.  I hesitate to even call it a pose - when I tried her correction, I was constantly moving, evolving.  I felt elegant and beautiful, even!

Laura's consistent reminders and excited exclamations of "Yes!" whenever someone incorporated her corrections were very encouraging, and made me work that much harder.  I wanted to receive a "Yes!"  (I did get a few :-)

"Have your mind be a witness to your body," Laura concluded about the positive thoughts concept, and I was struck by how powerful this statement was.  It also made me realize just how much dancers must overrule the natural tendencies of our bodies in order to hone our art, to constantly gird ourselves psychologically to master limb and muscle.  But the way Laura described it, I suddenly felt that it's less about overcoming our bodies, but about observing and encouraging.  Our bodies are, after all, our prized instruments - I've only got the one, and it's irreplaceable.  It's time to stop fighting it and to work with what I've got, imperfections and all, and to make the best of it!  

The Challenge of Contrasts

It's fascinating (and sometimes frustrating!) to be working on classical ballet technique, and then to switch to something wildly different like the Tibetan dance I'm rehearsing for an upcoming show. Ballet is, as most dancers say, is 'up', referencing the pulled up, elongated muscles and posture, while Tibetan is 'down'.

Now, there are many different kinds of 'down'.  When I was in NYC studying latin jazz with Maria Torres, I learned to put my weight into my steps to get that deliberate, pert forward momentum that makes this dance style so alluring.  That's one kind of 'down'.  However, the torso is still very much held upright, making latin a kind of contrast unto itself.  

But Tibetan?  It's closer to what looks like a relaxed version of knee-bending seen in some styles of hip-hop, but with a fluid upper body and precisely placed arms and hands.  It's new to me, and I still haven't figured it out yet.  I'm still too 'up' and it makes me look awkward in a number of moves; the straight legs and trained upper body break the flow of the movement.  I still have a little bit of time to get it right before I go onstage.  I'd better keep practicing with the mirror and internalizing the Tibetan feeling - fast!

At the same time, I love the feeling of being pulled up all the time in technique class.  It's like my bread and butter (or, for my Asian side, rice and vegetables); very basic and yet oh-so-satisfying.  This morning in class, our instructor, Rika, told me to hold onto my rotation three times as much on my way up from plie.  It turns out that I've been letting it go ever so slightly, which results in my tush sticking out in a very un-balletic manner.  I sweat all through the barre, and by center all the muscles in my groin were especially tired.  It was an exhilarating feeling - I'm starting to get it, a little!  That's all I can ask for - progress, one bit at a time, in whatever style I'm working on.

What Hangs in the Balance

Happy Holidays!  The end of the year has snuck up on me, and I haven't been able to devote as much energy to dance simply because my reserves have been drained by the demands of my office job this quarter.  If this continues, my physical health (not to mention my sanity) is going to be at risk and I'll have to ask myself some tough questions.  They always loom in the back of my mind, but at some point I have to buckle down and think about who I am and what it is I want to be spending my energies on.

My dance life recently hasn't been non-existent, rather it's redeveloping.  I realize I go through phases in my choice of daily class.  I'll find myself wanting to feel all my muscles working properly and to go back to the basics; you'll find me at ballet class 70% of the week.  Then at some point I'll just want to move, no holds barred, focusing on endurance and strength.  I'll want to end the session with me, flat on my back on the floor, relishing the sweatiness!  Mop me off the floor at the Chinese dance studio.

I'm somewhere in between at the moment, trying to recover from work. I'm simply happy to be dancing at all.

This video is of the Yi ethnic dance "Mo She Ge" that I'd dubbed "Yi Feisty Girl" in an earlier post.  It reminds me of why I keep pushing myself; no matter how tired I am from work, I make sure I do something every day to stay in touch with my body and to get myself to class (or to give myself class if I have to).  It's to keep on pushing the boundaries of what my body can do, not just in terms of strength, but in internalizing new styles of movement.

The distinctive, playful movements of this Yunnan province dance are meant to look natural and at ease, but in reality learning this was completely unnatural for me!  This sounds strange, but it felt akin to putting on the most ill-fitting suit and shoes, and being asked to tap dance while giving a speech.  Obviously this wasn't specifically the case, but you get the idea: I had no clue as to even which muscles I should use to initiate the movements.  Awkward.  I know it's bad when my normally intense teacher laughs after I try something!  In the end, I somehow pulled this off between business trips to Beijing and the results were at least fun and colorful.

The point is, this reminds me that dance is a real part of me.  When I'm a stressed zombie after another 15 hour day at the office and have no room left in my brain, I need to remember who I am.  I am not just a worker bee.  I dance.  Perhaps it's time to reevaluate the (lack of) balance in my life.

Here's looking forward to a year ahead of music, movement, growth, and joy!  

The Nutcracker in China: Not Yet Home

Earlier this year I attended the National Ballet of China's production of The Nutcracker at the National Theater in Beijing, timed to coincide with the Lunar New Year. As Nutcracker season is once again in full swing, I'd like to share a review I wrote after seeing this Chinese attempt to appropriate one of the most enduring European classical ballets.  I hope you find this cultural exploration thought-provoking!  (Photos below are courtesy of Xinhua.)

In China, popular ballets have been based on themes close to home, such as the military-themed The Red Detachment of Women, featuring uniform-clad, gun-toting women in pointe shoes, or on national literary treasures and legends, as in Raise the Red Lantern and The White Haired Girl. It was, therefore, a leap of faith for The National Ballet of China to stage a locally flavored version of that most cherished western holiday classic: The Nutcracker.

Traditional, Western ballets are respected in China but garner comparatively little enthusiasm; traditional Chinese performing arts tend to stress overt acrobatic flourishes, which are amply supplied by traditional and folk dance ensembles.  

This is not to say that there are not balletomanes in China;  the presence of several fine companies in the country suggests otherwise. But for the average theatre-goer, it would take something extra to bring ballet closer to home. It’s quite fitting that Feng Ying, artistic director of The National Ballet of China, chose the ballet that arguably exposes more new audiences to the art form in the west to attempt to make history in China.

This is the second iteration of the production that premiered in 2001. Perhaps it was in a nod to the ballet's origins that the premiere was held in December, despite the fact that most Chinese do not celebrate Christmas. It returned in late February this year to coincide with the end of the Lunar New Year festivities.

In this Chinese adaptation the setting is the Lunar New Year, and Yuan Yuan and her brother celebrate with friends in their hutong, traditional neighborhoods formed by courtyard residences that are fast disappearing from modern Beijing. The music that traditionally announces the presence of Drosselmeyer, the eccentric toymaker, heralds a European antiquities dealer as the guest of Yuan Yuan's family.  

What ensues is a scene that any local could identify with: toasts raised with tea cups at the dinner table. While this is a fitting mirror to the activities that occur in the European Stahlbaum family during Christmas, it was unfortunate that the choreography did not make interplay with the beautiful score.  Granted, the first act tends to consist mostly of pantomime in any version, but Tchaikovsky provides coy hesitations and lush climaxes that beg for movement; most of these were not realized by the choreography.

The Nutcracker, bestowed upon Yuan Yuan by the European visitor, comes to life and joins forces with tigers to defeat the Nian, a Chinese mythological monster. Yuan Yuan then morphs into a beautiful crane fairy, danced with a frail grace by Zhang Jiang. Her attentive cavalier, Sheng Shidong, accompanies her to the land of the cranes. Where snowflakes would have floated across the stage, a coterie of sylph-like cranes welcome the couple to their enchanted world.  

Yuan Yuan and her cavalier find themselves in the Porcelain Kingdom, where they are received by a parade of items come to life that any Chinese household would be familiar with: fans, silk, toffee hawthorns, kites and peg tops, the last of which featured a man turning endlessly en pointe. "This is a dream that only a Chinese girl could have," said Feng Ying, artistic director.

Arguably the most entertaining of all, judging from audience reaction, was the 'Mother Ginger' segment. Instead of Mother Ginger, however, came a giant golden pig of prosperity whose doors opened to spill forth dancing golden ingots. Children are an integral part of any Nutcracker production; they appeared in this one piece and it proved most charming.

The final pas de deux was phrased beautifully. Zhang’s wrists beckoned softly and her gaze never failed to drift back to her cavalier as she was partnered tenderly by Sheng, who seemed genuinely entranced by her.

Despite the entertainment and beauty, I was left with a nagging feeling of incompleteness. This was not entirely due to the fact that the Sugar Plum variation was noticeably absent. I found myself longing for choreography that ascends on the wings of Tchaikovsky’s emotive music. Music and dance are inextricably linked in any ballet and this production felt akin to a lovely veneer of colour and movement. I soon realized it was because the ballet did not feel like a finished piece, culturally - it had not yet reached a sense of home.

As the curtain fell on the lavish production, the stage darkened with a simulation of firecrackers exploding and I wondered at what lies at the cultural heart of a tradition. Is it too much of a challenge to attempt appropriation of a foreign work with no more than a local overlay?

I watched audience members' reactions to the ballet with interest; people identified, aloud, each divertissement's representation as it appeared onstage - the kite, the fan. These adaptations resonated with the audience at their finest and were recognizable at the very least.

It would be gratifying to see this holiday classic become a new tradition for ballet in China, although I wonder whether it will live to see that day. The music is undeniably European, and one senses a fundamental disconnect. It's almost as if a story from a different time and place had reluctantly agreed to allow itself to be superimposed upon another. Still, it is an admirable and joyful work with some breathtaking moments. This balletomane certainly looks forward to witnessing an evolution of this effort, to see whether a traditional ballet can transcend the distance of culture and provenance to bring forth home.