Zine

A DANCER’S
POINTE OF
VIEW

MY DANCE
JOURNEY

“Great dancer’s are
not great because of
their technique, they
are great because of
their passion.”
—MARTHA GRAHAM

My First Solo
It was an honor to dance in the corps of a
professional dance company since the age of five,
but at the age of twelve, I was the clown in the
Nutcracker. I was given my first solo role, the
beautiful “Polichinelle” clown ballerina that pops
out of a gift box. After a couple months and many
hours of practice, I nervously walked out on the
stage on opening night in December. I looked into
the cold, dark audience and suddenly forgot what
to do next. As the music began, I automatically
began to dance, and as I began to dance, the
audience began to clap along. The applause was
rewarding, it confirmed that I had done it
perfectly, no mistakes, no slips. As I ran off stage,
my older sister (also a dancer) was waiting in the
curtains. She hugged me and my teacher smiled
at me from a distance. It was at that moment I
realized what I had accomplished.

“It takes an
athlete to dance,
but an artist to
be a dancer.”
—SHANNA LAFLEUR

DANCING
THROUGH
THE PAIN

From a very young age, I learned that dancing is not
always as elegant and graceful as it seems. At times,
it can be quite the opposite. As a clasical ballet
dancer, my feet eventually got used to the pain of my
tight restricted pointe shoes. My body got used to the
exhaustion, aches and pains ater the stretching and
hyperextending of all my limbs. Due to many long,
draining weekly classes and rehearsals, I missed
many social gatherings. Today, I can still recall the
discomfort after falling, on one particlar day. I told
my teacher that my feet were hurting and something
had to be wrong. She demanded that I get back up
and start over until I perfected my part. For weeks
she pushed me harder, harder than she ever had. As
we approached the show date, my role was on the
line, so I decided to stay quiet and push through the
pain. After a couple of months, I remember walking
out on stage feeling unsure of myself. As the music
began, I knew that I had to get through the third
chorus, but before I could get to the end of the
dance, my foot gave out, falling out of my step.
I continued to dance, as I glanced out of the corner
of my eye, into the curtains. The glare from my
ballet master sent a chill down my spine. The
following morning, I was certain that something was
wrong and asked to see a doctor. The x-rays revealed
that I had fractured both feet and it was at that
moment I realized how unglamourous, dark and ugly
ballet could really be.

“Dancer’s are
made, not born.”
—MIKHAIL BARYSHAIKOV

Intensive Summers
Most kids spend their summers swimming at the pool,
beach or lake. Some may sleep in late, travel with family, play
sports outdoors, attend a sleep-away camp in the the
mountains or simply hang out with friends. As for me, seven
of my summers as a child, were spent in a hot studio for eight
to ten hours a day, six days a week. As a ballet dancer, I was
expected to receive classical Russian technique training, along
with Flamenco, Modern, Character, Stretching, Pilates and
Music classes. My teachers were flown in from the Vaganova
Ballet Academy and The Mariinsky Ballet in St. Petersburg,
Russia. As I reflect, I can remember being excited and looking
forward each Summer Intensive Seminar and to the
significant improvement that I made each year, preparing me
for a higher level class in the Fall and the upcoming season.

MY DANCE JOURNEY
ALYSSA BEHAR
2021