Posts Tagged ballet

Fallen into dance.

Fall into Dance

The Asheville Ballet’s annual free performance in the park.

3-400 people watched and, if clapping and hooting count,
they enjoyed what they saw.

Photos are from last night’s performance (Friday, 23 Sept 2016).

One more show, tonight, Saturday, at 7:30 pm.

8 dances from 6 choreographers using 15 dancers,
beautiful work with poised and professional dancing.

Well-done tech — lights  and recorded sound and live music
— wonderful venue, perfect weather.









Don’t miss tonight’s show, bring friends and family, maybe folding chairs.

Performance details at the Asheville Ballet website.


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Ready to roll: 2015 Nutcracker.

Here’s our Nutcracker kit, waiting to load onto the truck, thence to be unloaded at the theater.


Just assemble, and dance.
Which the Asheville Ballet will do this weekend at the Diana Wortham Theatre.

Check with the DWT for tickets and details.

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Surreality reigns: Asheville Ballet costume funds raised.

Eye in the sky.

Events sometimes transcend expectations. Disparate strands intersect and loop through to build transitory structures, luminous and teasing and beautiful. Unforeseen, implausible, but joyful crystallizations.

For three years now the Asheville Ballet has benefited from a fund-raiser, specifically targeting the costume department. Reasonable enough. A golf tournament is the vehicle: foursomes compete (shotgun start, captain’s choice, single chance mulligan immunity and single red tee allowance available for a small fee). Comfortable terms and a relaxed atmosphere almost mask the ferocious desire to take the trophy home. Friendly ferocious.

We serve doughnuts and coffee for breakfast before the contest. Dancers from the school and company run golf carts laden with snacks and soft drinks out for mid-course refreshment. And there’s a barbecue lunch afterwards. Prize drawings insure nobody loses. And when the receipts and expenses settle, a bump for the costume fund. Sport, charity, and art converge to good purpose. And there’s barbecue.

That’s the underlying structure. Ballet and golf are not often coupled, this is true. Ballet is usually an inside and cooperative business. And golf is played to win, outside in the sunshine on wide swathes of grass. Still. Why not? It’s worked three times now, a little bit implausible and quite successful.

Cue the drone: a new strand engages with the braid.

Remote control.

Quadra copter.

On the grass, revving up, then she rises with a scratchy buzz.

The watchers.

Down the valley.

Eventually the little vessel sails hundreds of feet overhead and far down the valley.

With the buzz of a hundred hornets.

Drone rising.

Cue the provocateur (incidentally, most of the second-place team’s best scores were his). To provide an enlarged context? To embellish the instant? To open the gates?

Heritage, not hatred.

HK and his banner.

And bringing the little ship home. Whether it will land upon the same planet it left just minutes before, is one of the questions. When the magic of a Fool stirs fresh spices in the dish, your barbecue modulates. Also all the rest, as everything shifts to bind in the new information.

Black Mountain Golf Course, and more.

Return to earth.

With luck, one outcome for all this may be a new pink tutu for the dewdrop fairy, or new skirts for the snow corps. Can anyone diagram the process we have engaged here, first to last, leaving nothing out, giving to each element its due weight? Well, bless you for trying.

For all, a lovely morning. And for this year, a wrap.


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Now the puzzle’s out of the box.

Mutual incomprehension generates space between people, which allows us to breathe and turn about.

I didn’t do the jig-saw puzzle. No credit, no blame. But it was done at the other end of the table I write on, so it played out in front of me. Four persons, together and in shifts: they were pleased to be finished, a full day later. It was a challenge engaged and accomplished. They fought entropy to a standstill, at least until the thousand pieces were unplugged and returned to the box. If  you like jig-saw puzzles, the only questions are “was it hard, how long did it take?” If you’re not a fan, you ask “why?”

This question comes from one who does daily Sudokos and KenKens and Cryptograms. Except I get my puzzles, it’s yours that don’t make any sense. Okay, whichever strokes folks wish to be struck with. Sure, fine. But, still, why?


cover & finished

A thousand in one.


Here is another puzzle, one of mine, meaning one in which I participated.

Cinderella must have a clock to mark the magic hour, columns to shudder and slide, a backdrop for the palace. Also, not shown here, a mantle for her hearth, and a pumpkin carriage for conveyance, every piece fresh-built. And a godmother, forest friends and fairies, step-mother & -sisters, a prince and a royal court. The performances were the middle week of May, so this puzzle, too, is back in the box. Scores of dancers remember, scores of costumes are returned to hangers, around a thousand persons saw the show. But it is done. All gone, except the elements, the memories, and the video. Dance is as transient as a jig-saw: a thousand pieces must be fit and made to work as one. Then, the box. With luck there’s a picture, or a film.

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Columns and the midnight clock.


The palace drop.

Everything else we do, almost, from the most ordinary to the most wonderful, is pulled through the event-horizon of the mundane world. Meals cooked, lawns mowed, laundry folded, floors scrubbed—all gone, nor any trace. Breathe, sleep, talk; strut and fret for a while.

The big puzzles we take on and resolve can endure a little longer, be seen by many, be remembered; or be cut into a more persistent medium to stand for an hour or a century. As we all attempt to solve each puzzle set for us, the odds go up that someone, someday, gets it right.

A good day for any of us pays something forward, towards the long horizon.

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Ballet in the park.


      Lovely luck: the weather was mild and still and dry. The dancers pulled themselves and each other through stillness, reaching, leaping, turning, solo and unison and cannon and corps. Living musicians played to a live crowd, children mirrored the dancers, back and forth, through the audience. An hour-and-a-half outside of time.



      At that time, 7:30 pm on the 4th and fifth of October, 2013, in that place, the Roger McGuire stage in the Pack Place Park, in Downtown Asheville, North Carolina, seven lovely dances blessed the evening.



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Work in Progress: Drosselmeyer Chronicles



       The page header tab above will take you to the first chapter of the book I’m currently working on. Geoff and Ellen get to stay home for this one, it takes place in Roanoke. They are supernumeraries in the Roanoke Festival Ballet production of the Nutcracker.  Events unfold. Comments welcome (text riddled with typos, I know, it’s rough).




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