A week or so ago—it’s hard to say when, as the days all run together now—I put on the dress I had been going to wear to Smuin’s gala (cancelled) and sat down in front of my laptop to watch the recording of San Francisco Ballet’s performance of A Midsummer Night’s Dream (cancelled) while eating a piece of the pound cake I had baked during my time at home. Planning it in my mind, this was a fun evening, incorporating things I like and convivially combining them under unusual circumstances.  In reality, it felt very lonely.

In my very first post for this blog, I wrote:

“Going to the ballet is a communal activity.  You’re not sitting alone in an empty theater.  Even if you are attending alone, you’re there with hundreds or thousands of other people, watching the same thing at the same time in real time.  That’s called live.  And then, at intermission, you get to talk about it!  You talk with whoever you brought with you, or the person sitting next to you, or the person behind you in line for the bathroom.  Suddenly you have something in common.

… I have had so many lovely conversations with seatmates at the ballet over the years.  Engagement makes you feel a part of something greater, but for me it’s always critical to comment on a performance.  I have to be able to tell someone what I loved (or didn’t love), and it’s much nicer to say that to someone who was there and can respond in kind, rather than via a phone call or a text message or a Facebook post.”

These days, there is no live performance.  We don’t know when things will return to any semblance of normalcy, or if, when they do, there will still be an audience for live events.  I have to believe there will be, because that is the only way I know how to move forward.  But there are doubtless many who believe otherwise.  Only time will tell.

Right before my local county ordered us to shelter in place, I went and saw the new Emma film.  For the duration of the movie, I was lost to that world.  Fully immersed, I didn’t give a thought to the state of the world or to the future.  The soundtrack is particularly delightful, and I promptly downloaded it.  (I was, in fact, listening to the soundtrack while baking the aforementioned pound cake.)  The music is highly danceable, perfect for cavorting about one’s apartment to help offset feelings of confinement.  One of the orchestral tracks, original to the film, is entitled, “We Cannot Do Without Dancing.”

That phrase spoke directly to me.  It is tremendously difficult to tell a dancer not to dance.

Countless performances have been cancelled now, debuts postponed, retirements dissolving from fanfare into quiet exits, premieres never making it past an idea.  These are all losses, for the artists involved and for the audiences.

Dancers appear to have taken these losses in stride.  They may be devastated, but they have accepted that for the common good, the show must not go on.  Class, however, is another matter entirely.  There may not be any ballets to rehearse, but dancers are not sitting idly by.  Ballet calls for daily practice, and daily practice has continued, pandemic or not.  Instagram, Facebook, and Zoom are flooded with dancers giving and taking class.  Everyone is at home, couches and coffee tables pushed to the side, chairs and countertops commandeered as barres.  Some have their own piece of dance floor, or have found a good substitute, while others make do with whatever flooring is there.  You see as much dancewear as you do fun alternatives, which suggests there is a perceived value in donning standard attire and gently underlines that dancers are taking this seriously.  Sure, it’s fun, maybe, and different, taking class at home while watching the teacher online, but it’s still work.  It’s still these dancers’ job to be masters of their craft and to be able to come back ready to dance whenever that day arrives.

Not only can’t dancers do without dancing, they refuse to.  They’re taking control of what they can, and it’s incredibly powerful to see their determination.

Dance companies, suddenly plunged into (even greater) financial peril with all the cancellations, are responding to the times in the only way they can:  by making dance available online.  All across the world, companies are opening their video archives and screening ballets.  There are now so many ballets to view that I find myself unable to keep up.  I have resigned myself to missing much of what has been shared, and have given myself permission to be okay with that.  These are times to watch what I want, what piques my interest or excites me.  There is no obligation.

Smuin Contemporary Ballet, where I work, is one company presenting ballets online, sending links via email each week.  (Sign up here!)  I see the responses we get, and people are delighted.  Millions of people are sitting at home, looking for an escape, and dance companies, orchestras, and others are stepping up to provide an arts break.  Dance companies don’t want you to do without dancing because audiences are their lifeblood and they can’t afford to lose you.  But beyond that, I believe that what all these companies are really saying is that you shouldn’t have to do without dancing.  The arts matter.  The arts make your life better, whatever the circumstances.

I have been prone to some pretty low feelings of late.  The premise of this blog is to write about going to the ballet, and there are no ballets to go to right now.  I miss the whole experience, because that’s what going to the ballet is.  However, when I see the amount of work the industry is putting in to making ballet available and accessible, it is both inspiring and humbling.  There are huge numbers of people—choreographers, composers, dancers, musicians, crew members, among others—who have consented to allow these recordings to be shown.  Every single person who has signed off has felt it was important to put the work out there.

We talk a lot about these “unprecedented times.”  What’s really unprecedented is the access.  Most of the ballets being streamed online are free.  (Some ask you to join their mailing lists in order to receive the links and some ask you to consider a donation.)  If there’s something or someone you’ve been wanting to see, now is probably your chance.  But also—no pressure.

My at-home viewing of A Midsummer Night’s Dream didn’t go the way I imagined.  There were technical difficulties, and once those started I had a hard time giving the video my full attention.  The ending, though, brought tears to my eyes.  Puck closes the ballet, putting the story to sleep as the lights come down.  Watching the stage lights dim, I couldn’t help thinking that he was putting the opera house to sleep, bringing things to a dark, quiet halt.  The dancers took their bows, same as ever, but in absolute silence.  The only applause came when the dancers clapped for the orchestra.  It was so poignant, and at that moment I was keenly aware of everything that we’re missing.  I’m donating my ticket, since I got to watch the ballet at home.  It’s not the same at all as a live performance, but I was grateful for what they put together and appreciative of the effort.

Whatever the future looks like, there surely must be dancing.

I want to take a virtual dance class.
Many of the classes online are available to anyone.  You just have to know where to look!  Dancing Alone Together is a website to help with that, creating a single place to find online classes in a variety of styles.  Social media is the main way the word is getting out.  Check the Instagram or Facebook pages of your favorite dancers or companies.  If they aren’t offering something themselves, they most likely can direct you to someone who is.

I want to watch a ballet.
With so much dance now streaming, it can be hard to know where to begin.  One suggestion is to pick a couple of companies, your local company who you regularly support and another company that interests you.  Sign up for their email lists or follow them on Facebook or Instagram to see what they’re sharing.  Pointe Magazine has also released a partial list of online performances.
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