Grace Print

from my blog 'Fayette' Performing arts occupy a very special place in my soul, prompting the creation of paintings and drawings exploring it in many different ways. The quintessential place among those is taken by one discipline: the Ballet. I can't seem to have enough of it, and was never able to stop - sketching, pondering, admiring and painting, painting it again, no matter how many exhibitions I had on the subject. It doesn't come as a surprise then that I get asked a lot – by the press and viewers alike – what prompted that special interest? was I once a ballerina myself? Where do I get all these scenes and inspirations from? Will I be revisiting the subject again?... Some answers to that are simpler than others. Starting from the end: yes, certainly, more will be coming (I don't seem to have any control over it, they just do!) The scenes and fascination come from as far in the past as I can remember – going every Saturday to the fairy-tale Opera Theatre in the big city where I grew up; admiring the gold-leafed sculptured ceiling, the chandeliers, the red velvet of the seats and balconies, and the magical music coming from the Orchestra pit directed by the conductor – and then, finally, the fairy like dancers, half-people half-angels defying all the laws of physics and flying in their magical moves on stage. I loved it. I didn't understand it – I just followed my heart, and it was saying that whatever I was seeing was very nice indeed. Years passed. Nice memories of the childhood lived on in my soul. And then, following my destiny, I joined the Republican School of Fine Arts. It was a boarding school for gifted kids from all over the country, and a part of a trio of institutions based at the same campus: the State schools of Fine Art, of Music, and Ballet. Life seemed very happy then. We knew only too well how fortunate we were to be chosen to study there, a small number of kids hand-picked from all over the huge country for their ability by the unforgiving State which wanted to present itself in the grandest way and therefore supported all the best talents it could find. We didn't care about politics – we were young and happy, working hard at perfecting our skills, and never forgetting to find fun everywhere we looked. One of life's little pleasures was running to the Ballet school during break and stuffing ourselves with the most exquisite little desserts full of whipped cream and other yummy delicacies which the ballet students themselves were not allowed to have. They had to carry a little book of stamps, and only once a week or so were allowed to trade a stamp for one of those wonderful desserts that their canteen had in such abundance. So, we thought their loss was certainly our gain – not that it did any harm to our own fast-growing teenage bodies. So, the Ballet building of our campus was the favourite place to visit whenever we had a free minute (which, thankfully, was not that often). And this is how a very different story, and very different take on Ballet began for me, and never let go. All three schools had boarding facilities for out-of-town kids. But a lot of us with families in the capital attended as day students and were picked up by parents in the evening. And so, while stuffing ourselves with those beautiful Pavlova and black forest cakes, we saw scenes that made our jaws drop. There were fathers carrying their little daughters – aged 8-11 or so - in their arms to the cars. The girls could not walk – their little feet were literally dribbling blood, big toes looking as if they have been through mincing machines. They were at an age when young ballerinas start moving to hard cork-point shoes, and that was the price to pay for carrying the whole of one's body weight on those. Ever seen professional ballerina in open-toed sandals? I don't think so. The truth of what years of dancing on points did to their toes would be too shocking, too unpleasant to beauty lovers who think they know much about Ballet. I believe by concealing those, they are shielding us from the brutal reality of it... I learned a lot about Ballet since then. The shocking truth and the sacrifice, not only the beauty. And so, this is where my fascination comes from: not the girly pastel colours, the sparkles, the tutus and the magic of crystal chandeliers-lit theatres. It comes from respect for men and women who create magic for us on stage in the profession that is ranked first – and ahead of mining! - in the list of the most physically demanding jobs. To the ladies who fly in the air on stage in their jumps and in the hands of their dance partners. Who keep smiling up until they run into the wings, to fall, halfconscious, into the hands of their support staff, sports physiotherapy specialists and sometimes even doctors. Who drop to the floor there and then for a few precious minutes of the intervals between dance sets; to be worked on by those specialists while hidden from public view. Who then return to the stage full of smiles and fairy-like moves, tears and sweat wiped and never revealed. My respect is just as big for the men of this profession who don't have to wear the points, and got mocked so often for choosing the 'girly' trade. The men who can easily lift a grown woman above their head by one arm while still smiling to the audience, the ones who can jump as Olympic athletes and have more dry working muscles than most sportsmen we know. They do it all not when they feel ready – they do it to the precise beat of complex music pieces, now, ready or not. THIS IS where my respect is coming from. For the profession that takes so much courage that is hard to put in words. To the creation of such beauty through never revealed pain. To the strength of the human spirit, and love of perfect form. If they say that architecture is music frozen in stone, then ballet - to me – is the height of human spirit put in moves. Hats off to those who give it to us so selflessly. Bravo!... And heartfelt apologies for enjoying ourselves so much while watching all the magic unfolding on stage, and blocking the thoughts of the price every one of you pays for creating this illusion.

Print:Giclee on Fine Art Paper

Size:12 W x 9 H x 0.1 D in

Size with Frame:17.25 W x 14.25 H x 1.2 D in

Delivery Time:Typically 5-7 business days for domestic shipments, 10-14 business days for international shipments.