From the 1961 book Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert A. Heinlein (starting with a statement from Jubal Harshaw):

“Abstract design is all right – for wallpaper or linoleum.  But art is the process of evoking pity and terror.  What modern artists do is pseudo-intellectual masturbation.  Creative art is intercourse, in which the artist renders emotional his audience.  These laddies who won’t deign to do that – or can’t – lost the public.  The ordinary bloke will not buy ‘art’ that leaves him unmoved.”

“Jubal, I’ve always wondered why I didn’t give a hoot for art.  I thought it was something missing in me.”

“Mmm, one does have to learn to look at art.  But it’s up to the artist to use language that can be understood.  Most of these jokers don’t want to use language you and I can learn; they would rather sneer because we ‘fail’ to see what they are driving at.”

***

For pretty much the whole past year, I’ve been looking forward to seeing the Alabama Ballet perform Rooster by Christopher Bruce.  As soon as I saw them advertise a piece that paired rock and roll (by the Rolling Stones, no less) with ballet, I knew I had to be there.  Rock is a language I understand.

In putting together this piece, Bruce used eight Rolling Stones songs (Little Red Rooster, Lady Jane, Not Fade Away, As Tears Go By, Paint It Black, Ruby Tuesday, Play With Fire, & Sympathy for the Devil).  I’ve never in my life had such a hard time at a public event repressing an urge to sing along.  How can you resist air-drumming to Paint It Black?  Is there really anybody who hasn’t been in a car and crooned “Gooooood-bye, Ruuuuuuu-by Tuesday, Who could hang a nyaaaame on you?”  Howabout the irresistableness of singing the “Who, Who?” backup vocals during Sympathy for the Devil?

And that’s the genius of it.  Stones music is accessible.  It’s a good choreographer working in a language that people can understand, rather than tacitly suggesting that it’s somehow my fault when all that instrumental, orchestral music might fail to move me.  The first person who puts ballet to Radiohead (or OutKast) gets a gold star.

Can there really be any disagreement that rock is popular music and that orchestral music is not?  No offense for fans of classical music, but if we held a popularity contest, it’d be a landslide.  For example, how many people last year bought tickets to rock shows versus those who bought tickets to classical music?  Or, go check what portion of Wal-Mart’s CD aisles are devoted to each.  Do you ever hear orchestral music played over the speakers at football games?  Is there really any chance that Tchaikovsky is going to make a comeback?

I would suggest that if you’re making a serious effort to try to sell dance tickets to a general audience, you might consider scheduling more dance that exploits popular music.  Turning that around, if you’re not using popular music, then you might consider whether you’re fully committed to inviting and welcoming the general public.

As an aside, it makes me wonder whether someone could use modern software to remix Tchaikovsky (or other classics) for the ballet and give it a modern beat.  Or whether it would’ve been awesome to have any decent rock band at the performance to cover these songs live.  Dance needs music.  And any live music makes it better.

Not to bury this point too deeply in the text, I loved it.  Just as importantly, I would bet that the dancers loved it.  And not just because they think they have to say they did – but because they were genuinely having a blast.  I could be wrong, but I think that kind of enthusiasm shows up in a performance.  All props to the guys (Gauen Alexander, Noah Hart, David Kiyak, Benjamin Linn & Brandon Ragland) and girls (Jennifer Ferrigno, Ellizabeth Gamble, Jordan Mercer, Chinatsu Owada & Noel Pollard).  Also, after mentioning her several times in a row, I think it’s probably worth saying that I might pay money just to watch Jennifer Ferrigno chew spaghetti.

Serenade was a perfect and beautiful compliment to Rooster and, as a whole performance, it made the Alabama Ballet cool.  Not in that way that teachers and colleges try to convince girls that it’s cool to study science and math.  But in a way that’s actually cool.  So much, that I have no problem saying that if you’re a Birmingham resident who tries to stay in the know, but you missed this performance, I think you really missed something.  And if the Alabama Ballet can’t use this as an opportunity to move towards the young, hip, and relevant, then it may be missing something equally as important.

Finally, I laughed out loud that the girls’ costumes in Rooster looked a touch like Sith Cheerleader uniforms.  Since no one but the hard-core dorks will grok that, I’ll provide links here, here, and here.  Way cool.

Thanks to Leslie Cooper and the Alabama Ballet for giving me the unique experience of looking forward to a ballet for almost a year (who knew that was possible?).

Dear straight men of Birmingham,

You’re being kind-of dopey.

Yes, the fine arts can be fine, but they’re very often fine – if you receive my meaning.  I’ve been wanting to write a straightforward piece on how sexy dance can be, and the latest show from the Arova Contemporary Ballet, La Vie Boheme, provides the perfect chance.

First off, the Arova team collaborated with Angela Karen for (at least) the great promotional picture featured here.  Along with her other work, Angela is responsible for creating pin-up photography at Birmingham Bombshells.  God bless her.  She also distracted me at the performance because she’s beautiful and talented and I had to sit directly behind her.  (I’ve begged at least two friends of mine with any sort of connection to try and set us up, to no avail…)

Which brings me to my point.  If you’re a single man, you really don’t have any reason to miss these dance performances.  Without even mentioning the seven pretty dancers on stage, I think I was seated within sight of something like ten attractive girls.  Most of them weren’t there with a guy.  And I think they were all in heels and dresses.  So your odds are good.  Whatever the opposite of a sausage party is, this is it.

Not only that, but I can script you an easy in: “Hi there, I don’t know anything about dance, and I’m here by myself to check it out.”  You’re immediately good-natured and humble and charming.  She’ll swoon.  Unless you smell like manure or have a swastika on your forehead.  So go from there.

What if you’re already crazy about a particular girl?  The answer to that is easy.  Purchase two tickets to a dance recital in advance.  Then tell her you’ve got two tickets and want her to come with you.  For the most part, chicks dig dance.  I’ve rarely met a girl that would turn down a dance performance.  We’re talking major points.

Not only that, but I’ll admit to ulterior motives in asking a date to this kind of performance.  Half the fun is giving her a good excuse to doll up.  No one’s ever gotten too girly for me.  If I have to put on real pants and shoes as a tradeoff, then so be it, and you won’t catch me complaining.

But I can already hear you saying, “I don’t really like dance.”  First of all, that’s not the point, is it?  The point is them, right?  If it weren’t for them, we’d probably live in little caves and play video games all day.  Second of all, I think you will like the dance.  Maybe not all of it, but that’s okay because even hard-core dance people don’t like it all.  At the Arova performance, for example, they performed eight pieces, but I mainly enjoyed the even-numbered pieces (Surrender, Chants d’Auvergne, Verite, and La Reve Rouge).  In particular, Surrender and Le Reve Rouge were downright sexy – I like a lot of interaction and contact between the dancers.  If you’re unstirred by a dancer onstage who is thoroughly out-of-breath, you may need professional help.

Even though the dances have got fancy French names, I promise that no one’s forcing us to watch ‘em with fancy eyes.  The dancers just move pretty and that’s really all you need to know.  Without understanding a darned thing about dance, I’ve been able to pick out a pair of shapely legs since I was about thirteen.  And there’s great joy in that.  Do you really need to know anything about make-up to be able to appreciate the results?  Heck no you don’t.  You don’t even have to feel guilty about it – whoever does the costuming for Arova is gifted and perceptive and knows exactly what they’re doing.

And guys, it’s not just contemporary ballet.  I just saw Don Quixote by the Alabama Ballet and there were plenty of pretty dancers there who want you to watch.  I just saw Equus by Theatre Downtown and that show is at least half about sex, plus there’s real honest-to-God nakedness in it.  That’s way better than anything pixellated, so get yourself some tickets to a show.

Ladies, feel free to pass this information along to the uninformed.

Your friend,

Daniel

For some sports fans, the time from January to March can be awfully dark.  Football is over and baseball is still hibernating.  Which leads me into the realm of creative and fantasy thinking.  After seeing their excellent performance of Don Quixote, I got to wondering what the Alabama Ballet would be like if its news coverage rivaled Alabama Football’s…

First of all, I imagine that the Birmingham News and our local TV broadcasters would devote a whole section to the arts.  Every day, there’d be some sort of piece which mentioned every upcoming show.  Interviews and press conferences with the dancers and coaches.  No real need to spend the organization’s money on advertising – almost everyone who’s anyone already knows the schedule.  A waiting list for season tickets.  Weddings and fishing trips get planned around important days on the ballet calendar.

Kelly Walsh & Gauen Alexander

As the local dance fanatics “X” off the calendar days before the performance, Head Coach Tracey Alvey could barely go to the grocery store, leave the ballet compound, or make any public appearance without fighting off a stream of standard questions.  “Do you think the team is confident and ready?”  “Are Jennifer and David fully healthy?”  “What’s your gameplan for the tricky table dance in Act III?”  “What do you think about what the Atlanta Ballet did with Don Quixote last year?”  The public would collectively GASP if anybody strayed from the acceptable list of cliches.  “We’re just taking it one day at a time and hoping that everyone gives 110%.”  Those all work for the ballet, too, I guess.

Catherine Garratt & Kelly Walsh

Photographers and reporters might lurk around the practice facility, hoping to discover up-to-the-minute injury information about the dancers. Fans would collect promotional and behind-the-scenes photographs of popular and favorite dancers like trading cards.  Daniel Moore would paint and profit from the most important onstage moments at the Alabama Ballet.

Can you imagine season ticket holders tailgating outside the Leslie S. Wright Fine Arts Center?  Drinking beer, grilling hotdogs, and socializing before every performance?  Girls with spectacular hair walking by in new dresses – seeing and being seen?  While the guys pretend to ignore the girls and kill time by dancing in public – pretending to be just like their heroes on the inside?  Can you imagine a world where being the principal dancer could be cooler than being the quarterback?

In fact, people might get so excited that they’d gather with family and party for the whole day of the performance.  Rather than just go to one game a year – errr, performance – they’d follow and discuss a dancer’s full career.  “Isn’t he incredibly talented to just be a junior?”   “Do you think he’ll be back next year?”  “Don’t you think she’s getting better every week?”  “Isn’t it a shame that he’s leaving us for Dallas after this year?”  “I hear they’re recruiting this great new freshman from Pennsylvania for next season.”  “She was good last week, but she was so good the show before that.”

Something like 90,000 people would show up – or maybe would want to – over the course of the weekend.  Once inside, the room would buzz and there’d be spontaneous cheering even before the curtain.  Almost everyone’s been to the ballet before, of course, so they’re familiar with the choreography of being a spectator – knowing when to sit quietly and when to applaud.  There might be a drunk guy behind you who’ll get overzealous and shout.

Everyone walks out with that jubilant, top-of-the-world feeling of watching your home team win the big game.  Your infectious excitement spills over and you can’t help but make friends with strangers in the parking lot.  You discuss the spectacle of all those dancers.  Everyone’s talking about Coach Wendy Gamble’s beautiful costuming and brags about the experience to their friends who couldn’t go.  For the next week, everyone’s talking about the working windmill, how funny it was, and how the dancers tossed around guitars, fans, drums, and even the other dancers.  For the next month, everyone is still talking about the charismatic pairing of dancers David Kiyak and Jennifer Ferrigno.  And for the years to come, people will still think back on that moment – whenever it was for you – when you knew that they’d won.

And maybe the football score gets just one little paragraph.

Thanks to Leslie Cooper and the Alabama Ballet for the chance to root for the team and support them at this big game – errrr, exhibition – errrr, performance.

Anything worthwhile takes a mess of effort.

Even writing these simple pieces usually takes me a few hours.  Yeah, some of it might be spent staring into space, arranging a playlist, or petting the dog, but it’s all just a way of making time for language blocks and potential ideas to fall, Tetris-like, into something more coherent.

When I paint, though I’ve been known to finish something in under an hour, it mostly takes at least a full workday.  And often some chunk of a week.  I’ve gotten pretty darned skilled at the quiet contemplation of a canvas.

It’s been close to a year since I’ve written any music, but that process is no less intense.  An idea has to come from somewhere.  Whether you labor at it diligently or chase after it with a butterfly net, it almost always takes time.  Getting a guitar part right.  Writing the (bleeping) words, too, takes forever and I might as well be distilling my own blood.  Not to mention getting my voice recorded in some way that won’t sound like dog-strangling.

I digress.  More on point, I quote directly from the Nutcracker program: “Birmingham Ballet’s annual presentation of The Nutcracker is a large community effort.”  That may be an understatement.  The program is three pages of small type with a long list of names like Absher, Addie, Allowyn, Baylor, Brianna, Caleigh, Elle, Ellie, Emma, Grace, Hannah, Hope, Linnea, Kendall, Riley, and Romberg.  On Dasher and Dancer, On Prancer and Vixen….

And each of those little names – and all that aggregate time spent with all those baby name books – has at least one adult who is responsible for all the jetting back and forth to ballet practice.  One adult who might be forced to say (at least once in a while), “Yes, you still have to go.”  One adult who had to use heretofore unknown skills to alter or fix a costume entirely too close to curtain at the first performance.  One adult with an almost superhuman love for that little dancer.

And who designed the programs?  Printed them?  Put together the website?  Herded five-year-olds at practice?  Buckled Jack Frost into his flight apparatus?  Swept the snow?  Made the props?  Set up the lighting?  Tracked the music?  Ran the ticket booth?  Ushered patrons to their seats?  A “large community effort” for sure.

But nothing substantial seemed to go wrong at the Saturday evening performance, in spite of the obvious possibilities.  (I can imagine a set of people who could enjoy dance like rednecks do NASCAR – mainly for the crashes.)  Instead, I throughly enjoyed the pretty sets, its sense of humor, Drosselmeyer’s magic, Harlequin and Pierot, the bouncy bows and dresses at the Christmas party, the world’s cutest mice, success in snow-land after multiple practices, the wonder of the snow itself, individual Sugar Plum Fairy and Spanish and Arabian and Dew Drop Fairy performances, and the fun of hearing the parents around me in the audience murmuring and bubbling about their children at all the right times.

I’m not sure I’d ache to see the Nutcracker every single Christmas, but fifteen years (or more) was too long.  It’s a mess of effort that’s worth getting involved in.  I can only hope that I might entertain a few people even half as well.  But without all the effort, an artist would have no chance.

Once more, thanks to Cindy Free for giving me a chance to get all dressed up and a someplace nice to go.  A link to my earlier piece on the Birmingham Ballet’s rehearsal can be found here.

The show isn’t the only show.

When you go see a movie, they’ve got it boxed and clocked and packaged at about 100 to 120 minutes.  From that opening blackscreen all the way through the opening credits, a whole team of people have carefully engineered your entertainment experience.  That’s the “movie” you’re paying for, right?

But what about those of us that like seeing the previews?  I usually love watching and giving an instant, blink judgment of a “thumbs up” or “thumbs down” right there in the theater.  If you can find a way to enjoy the previews – rather than thinking of them as something to be endured – then your admission dollar gets stretched further.

And what about focusing on the simple sense experience of watching a movie?  I still like the big-ness of the room.  If it’s crowded, I love all the people-watching and seeing what demographic showed up to watch.  I saw Pixar’s Up with a whole roomful of moms and little kids, but watched a late-night showing of Inglourious Basterds with mostly teenagers and college kids.  If you’re lucky enough to see a show in a mostly-empty cinema, then you get that great feeling of having the room to yourself.  Maybe you can even ignore the screen completely and snog a cutie somewhere near the back.

Then, of course, there are those of us who (sometimes) like to watch the DVD “Special Features” to learn about how a movie was made.  If the voiceover is good, it can stretch your entertainment dollar even more to find out how they did certain shots, how an actor got hurt during scenes, or about whatever problems they had the hardest time resolving.  It can be fun to peek behind the wizard’s curtain and marvel at all the work that went into it.  Or just use it as an excuse to snog a cutie on your couch.

Further, when it comes to the movies, there always seems to be those waves of Access Hollywood and David Letterman pieces which focus on the stars who made the movie.  You get glimpses of the personalities and characters involved.  And that’s yet another way of enjoying the “movie” – that piece of art that’s supposed to be boxed and clocked and packaged somewhere between 100 to 120 minutes.

In short, the “movie” itself often just represents the tip of the iceberg of your entertainment experience.  Don’t try to explain to certain people that Twilight or Harry Potter is just a book or just a movie.  There’s more to it than that.

Hopefully on point, this week I was invited to watch one of the final Birmingham Ballet Nutcracker practices before their public performances this weekend – December 12 and 13.  At a rehearsal with fifty-ish dancers, there sure is a lot more happening than just the show.  Not only learning, but chatting, running around, wiggling, eating, gossiping, homework, reading, young relationships forming and straining.  If you appreciate an ensemble cast, there may be nothing better than observing from behind the scenes.

Which I think may be at least half of the enjoyment of dancing in, acting in, directing, or working with a performance.  All those people get to participate in this extended “show” that I’m talking about.  The thing they sell tickets to isn’t the story’s only chapter.  It’s just the last one.  Well, depending on who’s narrative you focus on, it could be the first or a middle chapter.  That’s especially true with something like the Nutcracker, where the performers’ ages range from the little-bitty to clearly-an-adult.  Who knows if one of these five-year-olds will grow up and star on Broadway?

To enjoy a performance, there’s not really a need to read those other chapters, but understanding them probably amplifies your enjoyment.  Just ask the parents how much fun it is to watch their kid get all ready and nervous for the show and then to pick them up afterwards all excited and pink with that rush of “We did it!” adrenaline.  Who wants ice cream!  Even after watching just two practices, I almost feel like I’m getting to know the performers.  Which makes me look forward to the final performance that much more.

It’s a technique which “So You Think You Can Dance” and “American Idol” have distilled into gold.  If you know the performers, you’ll probably enjoy their performance more.  I think on-stage people inherently know this because it’s so much fun to be part of a show, but our local arts marketers might learn a lesson.  Find more ways to introduce us to your performers doing the things they do well.  Don’t hold this stuff back to the limited audience of only the people who were involved.  Share your Facebook production pictures.  Take “in costume” shots really early in production to show the rest of us how it’ll look if we buy tickets.  Show us the set.  Video a clip of the performance to spread the word.  Let your performers use their talents and charisma to sell us your show.

Thanks again to Cindy Free and the Birmingham Ballet for letting me feel involved.  I’m looking forward to this weekend’s performance.  A link to my earlier piece on the group’s practice session can be found here.