In the midst of the drama of my own
blogged about life,
a few weeks ago,
I saw my first ballet
to celebrate my friend's wedding
I attended last weekend.
When the curtain began to rise
the dancers appeared,
I found myself thinking of Ngaio Marsh
and the novel about her detective
seeing a play where the murder in the play
Marsh's description of the players in the back of my mind,
I began to watch the ballet...
It was very beautiful,
perfect in timing, in the use of props, the costumes.
The sense of a former time created through
was wonderful to behold.
I was surprised at how you can hear the feet tapping when the
ballerinas are dancing en pointe.
I could not help wondering about the lives of the dancers
when they are off stage.
My sense is that their world must be very pressurized,
with very long practice periods
and working with each other to create beautiful art
The need for perfection on stage
I imagine is very intense.
Any misstep on stage must be gut-wrenching
to the dancer.