Yves Casati filled in for Frederic Lazzarelli today in ballet. (I've decided to stick with the Lazzarelli class this summer, fyi.) Casati was...strict. Not only that, but he was tough. His barre exercises had me sweating like a pig, but I figured out how to do this arabesque thing without straining my back muscles, just like Danny was trying to teach me last semester. If I hadn't figured it out today, I'd probably be a twitching blob of spasming muscle on the floor on the floor since he made us penchee arabesque and come back up to a regular arabesque about five times on each side. For a visual reference, it looks vaguely like this when I do it, down and up:
By the time he hold us to do some leg-up-by-your-head extensions and splits on the floor (which I have never been instructed to do before) I was trembling and slick with sweat. By the time we were done at the barre, I was glad I was wearing a tank top over my leotard, so I could mop off my face and chest.
And Casati kept yelling at people. This one girl bore the brunt of his negative attentions. He yelled at her for not doing an exercise correctly. He yelled at her for not watching him when he was explaining it better to the class. He yelled at her for slouching at the barre while part of the class was doing a floor exercise. He yelled at her for standing with her hip out and her arms folded while waiting in line for her turn at another exercise. By the end of class, it started seeming a little more good-natured, but still. I got yelled at, too, for getting my rights and lefts mixed up. Of course he's yelling at me in French, so I'm a little slow on the uptake, which doesn't help matters. For one exercise, I held up the line because he was yelling in my direction, but I couldn't tell what he was saying for the first five seconds; I just stood there stupidly, looking behind me, shifting uncomfortably... Then I realized he was yelling "Autre jambe! autre jambe!", "Other leg! Other leg!" So I switched legs and carried on. Ça va.
One more observation. Before class, this girl changed in the stairwell. She was the epitome of cool, with her outfit and her nonchalance. She pulled on a long-sleeved black leotard and tugged on her footless black tights under the skirt of a dress. (Yes, it is the oddest thing, but the coolest dancers wear the tights over their leotards...) The leotard had such a low back that the waist of the tights reached above its edge. Then she just shrugged off her dress, took off her bra, and put the leotard on all the way. There is a room upstairs where such nudity can be displayed in the relative privacy of a co-ed locker room, but I suppose the stairwell worked just as well for her. Over this ensemble went some grey shorts, tugged up high and folded over. Then she put on pointe shoes. This showed her to be an experienced dancer. (It also, I think, singled her out for some rather loud corrections in class from Monsieur Casati.) Anyway, my point is that I hope I will someday look as comfortable in my dance clothes as her, and that I can have cool dance clothes like her, and that I can pull them on like she did, as if it were second nature, just another layer of skin. Ballet dancers are so cool.
One more observation. Before class, this girl changed in the stairwell. She was the epitome of cool, with her outfit and her nonchalance. She pulled on a long-sleeved black leotard and tugged on her footless black tights under the skirt of a dress. (Yes, it is the oddest thing, but the coolest dancers wear the tights over their leotards...) The leotard had such a low back that the waist of the tights reached above its edge. Then she just shrugged off her dress, took off her bra, and put the leotard on all the way. There is a room upstairs where such nudity can be displayed in the relative privacy of a co-ed locker room, but I suppose the stairwell worked just as well for her. Over this ensemble went some grey shorts, tugged up high and folded over. Then she put on pointe shoes. This showed her to be an experienced dancer. (It also, I think, singled her out for some rather loud corrections in class from Monsieur Casati.) Anyway, my point is that I hope I will someday look as comfortable in my dance clothes as her, and that I can have cool dance clothes like her, and that I can pull them on like she did, as if it were second nature, just another layer of skin. Ballet dancers are so cool.
I did class with Yves Casati many times. He was strict but fair. I learned many things and grew fond of him. I find this article a little disrespectful. There was reason behind his shouting and he was never cruel.
ReplyDelete"There was reason behind his shouting".. Yes, I can see that. Of course, this was seven years ago and maybe I had thinner skin then :) Also, I'm not a ballet dancer NOR am I french, so I wasn't familiar with either culture. Out of curiosity, how did you find this post? I tend to imagine all my writings disappearing into the ether.. In any case, thank you for offering a balancing opinion for future readers to consider!
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