Photo by Jeff Crane.   This post is being updated. Please check back later.

Photo by Rachel Aron Hello readers.   I have a quick, brief blog entry for you today to mention something that is truly monumental for our own  Fort Wayne Ballet . In the spring, I wrote a review and discussion here concerning our tribute performance to the work of Eddie Stierle. This performance was a stunning visual testament to the life and legacy of an amazing young choreographer, struck down just as he was beginning to find his voice. Everyone I’ve spoken to who attended the show went to pains to express how deeply moved they were by the work of our dancers in recreating Eddie’s vision.   For those of you who could not attend  Dancers Legacy: An Evening of Stierle,  I come as the bearer of glad tidings! Our local public television station,  PBS Fort Wayne,  went to great lengths back in May to capture this show in all its high-definition glory, and the resulting FULL performance/documentary is airing  TONIGHT, September 22 , on  Channel 39 .   We, the directors, staff, and dancers

  Photography by Rachel Aron What makes something art? What must you put into the paper and pigment before it transcends being a doodle into a sketch or a painting. Is it skill? Intent? Determination? Or is it the transference of some insoluble part of yourself that works its way into your medium? What sort of artist deserves the most praise? The “natural born” that creates with little effort, or the dogged striver who pushes boundaries and achieves beauty through pluck and courage?   I know that it takes all kinds. I am the meticulous sort, both as a writer and producer. When I settle into those rolls, I become detached and analytical, finding pleasure in the way words and sentences fit together; in the way two thoughts complement each other in a particular state of flow. For me, random emotion does not translate to the structure I need to create. I suppose this leaves me slightly skeptical of that old claim that great artists need to suffer for their art. I get the concept, but I hav

  This past week,  Fort Wayne Ballet  staged our final in-theatre show of the season. Our dancers, after weeks of hard work and tireless dedication, made history with the first-ever staging of the complete works of  Eddie Stierle  in one show. Stierle, for those of you who don’t know, was a dancer and choreographer for the Joffrey Ballet in the late ‘80’s, until his tragic passing of AIDS in 1991.    And he was brilliant. As a dancer, he was superhuman; as a choreographer, he was meteoric. Had he lived past the age of 23, there is no telling where his career could have taken him. Another Balanchine? Perhaps. A natural successor to the Joffrey throne, or pioneer to his own company? There’s only speculation at this point, but the waste of potential is only slightly less tragic than the loss of such an incredible young man.    If you would like to know more about Eddie’s life and career, I would encourage you to link to our podcast and listen in on our recent three-part series. For the pu

I came across an interesting passage this morning – excerpted from a ballet magazine, circa 1952. The author was editorializing what was then the 75 th  anniversary of Swan Lake. Yes, for those keeping track, that currently makes the world’s most famous ballet 133 years old. I have to say, it takes good care of itself, and doesn’t look a day over 110.   Now, the article in question, written by dance critic and historian Anatole Chujoy, was interesting in that it filled in some gaps in my understanding of Swan Lake’s legacy. Over the last few years, as I have produced our podcast, I have absorbed a lot of dance history from the back-and-forth discussions between Jim (Sparrow) and Karen (Gibbons-Brown). I have heard Karen say a number of times now that both  Swan Lake  and  Nutcracker , despite Tchaikovsky’s success as a composer and Petipa’s renown as a choreographer, initially flopped. As it turns out, both had their reasons, and both had their own unique path to requited glory.   I wo

When the curtain opens this weekend on Fort Wayne Ballet’s production of Dracula, it will do so to the creepy plunks of a… broken piano? And the lullabyesque melody it plays pokes at you like the thorns of a nightmare dreamscape. Layered onto a scene of villagers warning a stranger not to go to the mysterious castle, it seems that the laws of neither nature nor music want much to do with our pointy-fanged count.  The instrument in question, in orchestral parlance, is called a prepared piano. Prepared according to the composer’s wishes, it can be wildly unstandardized in its tuning, and often has objects wedged between the piano’s wires to muffle or alter the sound. A quick google search will show you prepared pianos with silverware resting on top of the strings, or bolts and erasers stuck in among them. To look at it, you’d think an unruly ten-year-old was trying to get out of a piano lesson.  The post-modernist composer utilizing this jangling contraption is Alfred Schnittke. The piec