"'Dance
is the miracle, and that has been my unique gift -- to give it to
others. The only thing I regret is that I have only one lifetime.'"
Fluid
Stability
She never
thought her career would last; 35 years later,
Margie Gillis proves herself wrong By
Paula Citron
Margie
Gillis is bursting with excitement. She has just had her first rehearsals
with the full cast of her new group work that will celebrate her
35th anniversary as a dancer/choreographer. M.Body.7/M.Corps.7 premieres
in Montreal in February followed by performances at the Vancouver
International Dance Festival. Gillis is enthralled with her dancers,
and no wonder. The Canadians read like a who's who -- Anik Bissonnette,
Gioconda Barbuto, Holly Bright, Laurence Lemieux, Emily Molnar,
plus Bissonnette's and Lemieux's daughters, Sandrine, 10 and Juliette,
8, respectively -- not to mention Gillis herself.
The Americans are Limón specialist
Risa Steinberg and Eleanor Duckworth, 72, a professor of education
at Harvard. Gillis has previously set solos on each, and now she
is bringing the work together. It is heady stuff for the 54-year-old
icon of contemporary dance. "I was a short, fat, long-haired,
pigeon-toed girl when I started," she says, "so I didn't
think my career would last a week."
For more than three decades, the remarkable
Gillis has been a solo artist with about 80 choreographies to her
credit. As a performer, she is pure charisma. Her compact, muscular
body surrounded by her waist-length billowing hair commands space
like no one else. Her "Margieland" choreography is all about emotion
and vulnerability, and to see her onstage is an unforgettable experience.
But Gillis is more than an enfant terrible of dance -- or as she
describes herself, a soloist with a bad personality. She is the
artistic director of the acclaimed Margie Gillis Dance Foundation,
which she founded in 1981.
She was the first to perform, teach and
lecture on modern dance in China (1979) and the first contemporary
dancer to receive the Order of Canada (1987). The great dance artists
around North America with whom she has collaborated, such as John
Butler, Paul-André Fortier, James Kudelka and Robert La Fosse,
to mention but a few, is like a history of dance itself. She has
even choreographed for Cirque du Soleil's Las Vegas extravaganza
The Beatles: Love. She is a much admired teacher who, in
her own highly original compendium of physical games and exercises,
leads dancers to find their own sense of uniqueness. "We all
have an interior landscape that can become dance," she says.
"I help them discover what it is to be alone in the movement,
to find the breath of themselves."
Gillis was born into a family of
formidable athletes. Her father, Gene, designed ski trails
and coached skiers. Her mother was skier Rhona Wurtele, who
with her twin sister, Rhoda, competed for Canada in the 1948
Olympics. Brother Christopher was a top dancer and choreographer
for Paul Taylor Dance Company, brother Jere played in the
National Hockey League and is now a stuntman, while sister
Nancy trains athletes.As a three-year-old, Gillis began studying
ballet
and gymnastics, but more than anything else she loved to dance
on her own. She also became intensely interested in what she
calls the journey of movement and textures. "If you had
a fall in my family," she explains, "it became a
discussion and a dissection about how could you have stopped
yourself, or the qualities of motion you noticed as you fell.
That you fell was not the main point."
There is also sadness in her early
life, which perhaps sheds light on the raw edge of her dance
pieces and her maverick personality. The family lived in Oregon
and Idaho, following her father's career, but Rhona and the
children moved back to Montreal when Gillis was eight. Gene
Gillis left the family for another woman and was virtually
out of their lives thereafter. The sensitive Gillis was a
dreamy child who didn't conform to
normal childrearing. In fact, she claims
that her mother had to dress her in bright clothing so that she wouldn't
get hit by a car when she was lost in her own thoughts. Reeling from
the marriage breakup, she became a crybaby who was picked on at school
to the point where she had a massive breakdown that lasted until she
was 12. "It was like living in an alternate world," she
says. "I didn't feel like part of the human race." She also
lost most of her hair due to her nervous disorder. "I made a
bargain with the angels," says Gillis. "I promised them
that if they allowed my hair to grow back, I wouldn't cut it"
-- a vow that she has kept to this day -- and she adds: "I had
a dreadful childhood, but it was helpful in terms of my creativity.
I understand being emotionally fearless."
Gillis probably
spent only about one-third of each year in school because of
her fragile condition. All tests showed that her IQ was off
the map, so she was able to scrape by despite her absenteeism.
To avoid institutionalizing her daughter, the desperate Rhona
sent Gillis to live with her father in Flagstaff, Arizona, when
she was 12, and it was during these nine months that she was
able to get over the worst of her demons. She came back to Montreal,
managed to complete high school, although she describes herself
as scattered, heady and difficult to control. She entered the
college studying the humanities, but academia was not for her.
Gillis studied dance with Linda Raino and briefly performed
with Iro Tembeck's company before dropping out of school. By
1973, at 18, she was on her own, choreographing her first piece
to a Joni Mitchell song. To this day, Gillis still has to fight
against depression. Her last severe suicidal breakdown was when
she was 27. Since then, if she feels the chemical imbalance
happening in her body, she fights back against it. "I won't
be seduced by depression," she says. "I won't go down
that slippery slope. I pretend I'm happy until I am."
On a personal level, Gillis has had one long-term relationship.
Producer and impresario Jack Udashkin was with Gillis for seven
years and she credits him with helping her build her career.
The two met when she was 16 and she was impressed by his MG
convertible. "I haven't had any
long-term relationships since Jack,"
she says. "I have made some bad choices in lovers, that's true,
but it's also hard for men to be Mr. Gillis. I thought I wanted children
and a relationship, but I've let that go. Dance is my ongoing romantic
affair. I also have phenomenal friends."
Gillis considers the city of Montreal
as a lover, too. "My career could not have happened anywhere
else. This city accepts wildness. People are willing to try new
theatrical experiences. That's why in French, it is said that audiences
'assist in the spectacle.'"
Gillis is also dyslexic, which she claims
makes her the perfect solo dancer. "I can't count or do directions,
because I don't absorb information the same way as anyone else,"
she says. "Other dancers execute the steps on command, but
I'd still be standing there wondering what quality of movement to
use. When I have performed in the choreography of others, I had
to be steered around the stage. I'm too much of a free spirit."
Within her own body of work, Gillis sees
that the same characters keep repeating, albeit in different guises.
There is the animal, beastie, unformed, nature, abstract, the crippled
victim tortured with grief, the bold, proud woman with a huge appetite
who takes the space, the meditative slip stream who enters another
world, and the fool who is emblematic of humanity's foibles. Her
mind at any given time is also a whirl of choreographic ideas, or,
in her words, filled with the grain of sands that produce the pearls.
Whenever she choreographs a new piece, Gillis has to take into account
her mass of hair. "It can change the dance," she explains,
"so I have to judge what is needed -- the weight and position,
is it in or out, braid, bun or loose."
Gillis calls herself a fabric junkie
and costumes play an important role in her choreography. "Holly
Bright jokes that the easiest way to get me to create a work is
to give me a new dress," she quips.
At this point in time, Gillis is focusing
on her aging body as it changes and evolves, a process she finds
endlessly fascinating. Except for Molnar, who is in her 30s, the
women in her new work are all 40 or older. Her wellspring for the
piece is that we are all fed up with the bad things in the world
and that we need joy. "I like the exception to the rule,"
she explains, "not
just what is marketable. The human body as it grows older has as
many possibilities as it does its limitations. Look at Kazuo Ohno.
I am exploring the concept that wisdom -- life experience -- can
translate into muscle experience. I want people to be moved as I
am moved -- by the quality and transformation of the body in motion."
The raw emotional landscape of
early works such as Mercy (1976) and Waltzing Matilda
(1978) have led to pieces that contain a more refined, reflective
and intellectual essence, but still retain their humanist
soul. In 2007, Gillis premiered her first full-length work
created with American choreographer Paola Styron -- a stone's
poem was forged by literally spending time living with rocks
in Norway, the Yukon and several other places. Says Gillis.
"I am going through chemical changes in my body and I
found answers to physical transformations in the wisdom of
nature."
When asked what makes her dancing
such an intense journey for both herself and her audience,
Gillis gives an
eloquent reply: "This is my life. I'd
do it even if I didn't get paid. For me there is no such thing as
a peak performance. I find the top, spend time there and move on to
something higher. When I look back on my 35 years, I feel I have become
known for opening up audiences, for making them curious about movement,
for bringing them to dance through my own humanity. Dance is the miracle,
and that has been my unique gift -- to give it to others. The only
thing I regret is that I have only one lifetime."<end>
It's
the end of August and I'm at my parents' home outside of Stratford,
Ontario. Over the past six months I have had the journey of
a lifetime, one that I never dreamed would happen. I became
the first Canadian choreographer to create a new work for
the legendary Kirov Ballet of the Maryinsky Theatre in St.
Petersburg, Russia.
Journey
of a Lifetime
A choreographic
journey to the Maryinsky By
Peter Quanz
I
first met Elena Tchernichova in New York during the summer
of 2006. We were introduced at an American Ballet Theatre
performance (Tchernichova was senior ballet mistress there
under Mikhail Baryshnikov's tenure as artistic director)
and she asked about my work. Eventually she started to
make plans for me to stage a chamber evening in St. Petersburg
using Kirov dancers. It was to be a Baroque evening. Suddenly
in March 2007 she told me that the Baroque evening was
out and that Valery Gergiev, artistic director of the
Maryinsky Theatre, was interested in having a new ballet
to a Stravinsky score. On March 20, Maestro Gergiev called
me himself and I suggested Symphony in C. When I asked
about a possible premiere date, I was told, "Well,
that's up to you -- how fast can you make it?"
The following five weeks were not easy as I negotiated
my contract, procured a visa and
started to learn basic Russian. I
used a studio at the National Ballet of Canada to prepare my
initial ideas for the choreographic structure and corps de ballet
movement.
I left Canada May 1. When I arrived
in St. Petersburg the next afternoon, I was met at the airport
by two people from the theatre. One of them, Dmitri, ended up
being my translator for the project. He told me that most of
the company was on tour in Moscow and that only the "invalids"
had remained at home.
Casting the ballet was a nightmare. As
half the company was on tour, it was difficult to see everyone.
I was sent to watch classes, but I had no list of names or
headshots. I had to go up to dancers after class and ask who
they were. At that point I spoke almost no Russian and they
had no idea who I was or what my role was in the theatre.
I chose the principals after a
variety of classes, conferences and discussions with
Makhar Vaziev, the director of the ballet. We did not
speak at length about the corps de ballet other than
that I needed a medium height corps that was of classical
proportions.
My first rehearsal with the corps
de ballet was one of the strangest rehearsals I've ever
had. Three casts of corps de ballet were called -- about
60 people. I was introduced and said a few things, and
then three people took over and placed the dancers into
three casts and arranged them by height. I stood alone
at the front of the room and observed. It was clear
that the corps dancers are instantly replaceable and
that I was never going to get the close working relationship
with them that I have been used to: When you have five
Mashas and seven Sashas, names become slightly confusing!
The Kirov Ballet is a completely different
institution to any dance company we know here in the West.
There are 240 dancers, most of whom are graduates of the Vaganova
Ballet Academy. When a Vaganova graduate is taken into the
company, they are given a 20-year contract. This security
allows for traditions to be passed on and maintained. However,
there are many dancers in the company that are unmotivated
to improve their skills when they anticipate a career of mainly
dancing the Waltz in Swan Lake.
This is a company rich in talent, but generally only about
60 of the dancers are kept busy -- and to the point of exhaustion.
The dancers also dread being in a new work because they have
been abused by many choreographers that they consider
bad choices.
I did enjoy the knowledge that the soloist dancers can offer.
They are strongly based in their traditions, but see a new
ballet as a way to claim a section of the repertoire for their
own. They are also given more freedom by the administration
than the corps de ballet and this can lead to other problems.
When dancers are performing soloist places, they have the
option to not attend rehearsals. I learned that they may skip
rehearsals two days prior to a performance and rest for two
days afterward. You cannot convince them to attend rehearsal
and therefore you must plan a rehearsal schedule carefully.
This is all possible, but no one seems to know when people
are coming or going. There were times where I would work with
dancers for a few weeks only to be told that they would not
be in St. Petersburg for the performances. One of my principal
men was told by the administration not to attend rehearsals
because they were sure that he would not be performing my
work as there was only one performance. I fought to get more
shows so that I could put him on only to find out that he
had then been scheduled for a tour to Japan. I rehearsed six
casts for some of the principal places in my work, and in
doing so I lost 10 pounds! One morning I looked at my hips
and I could see my pelvis through my back! They call it the
Kirov diet.
Dancers of soloist or principal rank have their own coaches.
Some young dancers with potential will also be groomed for
greater responsibility. As I was working on the second movement
pas de deux I had difficulty with my ballerina. She felt
tremendously uncomfortable in the movement that I had worked
out on another dancer. She cried and stomped around. Viktor
Baranov, my ballet master for the soloists, was able to keep
her focused for the rehearsal by grabbing her and dancing
with her himself, but that evening Mme Tchernichova called
the ballerina's coach, Lyubov Kunakova, and explained the
situation. The next day Mme Kunakova watched my rehearsal
and soon my ballerina told me that her coach had told her
that she was lucky to dance the ballet and that she should
listen to everything I say.
I did have one small reminder of the
sanity of home when André Lewis, artistic director
of the Royal Winnipeg Ballet, came to visit. We had a great
weekend and had discussions about a future work in Winnipeg.
He then joined Royal Winnipeg
Ballet dancers Vanessa Lawson and Jaime Vargas in Moscow where
they performed at the Prix de Benois Gala.
A few weeks later, I started rehearsing to a new recording
of the symphony that was by Maestro Gergiev. His tempi were
much faster than what we were used to, but the music was brilliantly
played. I tried to slightly adjust my steps in
order to make them more comfortable for the dancers. My ballerina,
however, was not having it. She refused to change the choreography
and said that she loved what I had done and would not now
consider adjusting anything. How ironic! Most nights, following
my rehearsals, I would climb up to the third balcony and watch
the last act of either the opera or the ballet. Being in an
opera house setting where both companies perform constantly
offers a broader experience than the block scheduling that
we are used to here in Canada. I was able to see dancers in
more than 30 ballets during my 10-week stay as well as the
ballet performances in operas.
The day before my premiere I only had
three hours of rehearsal on the upper stage. This is a small
rehearsal theatre with roughly the same dimensions as the
main stage. There is also an orchestra pit and a small auditorium.
I decided to use the day to go to the Russian Museum with
my family and friends from Canada. While we were walking there,
I got a phone call from the theatre administration. As I had
not been happy with the lighting design for my ballet, I would
be allowed to work in the morning before the premiere. In
another call a few minutes later, I was told that Maestro
Gergiev wanted to rehearse the orchestra as well. That meant
that I could also call the dancers for a rehearsal with the
Maestro -- which we had not had. When I went into the museum
my phone rang every five minutes with new developments on
the rehearsal schedule. I agree that it is not permitted to
talk on the phone inside the museum, but I felt that frantic
calls from the Maryinsky Theatre would perhaps be overlooked.
It was awkward to hide behind a sculpture and talk to the
director of the Kirov Ballet while an ancient guard prowled
around.The next morning, the day of the premiere, I got to
the theatre early. My lighting session was to start at 9 a.m.,
but the night crew had not finished its work and had left
early. The morning
crew had arrived late. That meant a major delay as Madame
Butterfly was struck. Once we started there was a screaming
match between my stage designer, the lighting designer and
the stage manager. Of course, I pretended that I spoke no
Russian!
We struggled to stroke egos and get people
calmed down as the orchestra and the dancers arrived. At this
point I left to speak with Maestro Gergiev. I have never had
a conductor listen to my needs so attentively. I was able
to tell him exactly
what I needed and he followed perfectly. Who am I to tell
the world's greatest conductor how to conduct Stravinsky?
It was a moment I will never forget.
The dress rehearsal began and there were a few adjustments.
I worked on wearing out the carpet up the centre aisle as
I ran between the lighting desk and the front of the stalls
when Gergiev would spin around from his podium and ask if
the
phrasing was what we needed. The rehearsal ended 20 minutes
before curtain time and then Gergiev rehearsed the orchestra
for another 40 minutes. The audience waited patiently in the
foyer -- this is Russia!
The premiere of my ballet went
well (read George Jackson's review on p.61). No one died.
It was a huge honour to be programmed alongside Balanchine's
Four Temperaments and La Valse (which were staged
by the incomparable Patricia
Neary). This was the first time that I shared a bill with
a Balanchine work or did a ballet to a Stravinsky score. It
was fitting for both of these firsts to take place in the
theatre where both artists grew up.
I've learned that while in Russia you have to fight like a
dog for every morsel that you can get, but that there, more
than any place else, it is possible to reach the heavens.<end>
Pushing Boundaries: Alvin Erasga Tolentina & Ted Hamilton
by Kate Lancaster
A Company to Gamble On: Ballet Jörgen
by Michael Crabb
Departments
Dance Notes
Commentaries from Vancouver, Banff, the Prairies, Montréal,
Toronto, San Francisco, New York, Britain, France, Italy, Russia,
Denmark and Australia.
Reviews of National Ballet of Canada (Vancouver); Pacific Northwest
Ballet (Seattle); Mikhail Baryhshnikov (Connecticut) and Maryinsky
Ballet (St. Petersburg).
