Imagine
the minutes before the start of ballet class. The dancers are lying on the
specially-surfaced gray floor, the contours of their thin bodies hidden by
baggy warm-up wear, limbs radiating out in all manner of stretching positions. Those
who know each other talk quietly. Those new to class just stretch, and wait. An
unusual figure appears in the studio, not dressed for class, and walks across
the floor in street shoes. Soon, the character makes his identity clear: he sits down at the piano and begins his own method of warming up, which is strident and loud. It is the ballet pianist, the
sole musician in a room full of dancers, at once essential and alienated.
Ai Isshiki is a ballet pianist. She is also a composer. She has been accompanying classes for four or five years, first in Boston, now, in New York, at such studios as the Mark Morris Dance Center, in Brooklyn, and Ballet Arts, in Manhattan. No archetype, Ai does not represent ballet pianists as a group; however, I know from dancing in classes she has accompanied that she is a remarkable individual, and I wanted to try to see ballet class from her perspective. I interviewed her in a café before Kenny Larson’s intermediate ballet class at Ballet Arts. These are my impressions, those of a sometimes dancer, of ballet pianists and of my time with Ai (pronounced like eye).
Ballet class is the bread and butter of dance, a daily ritual that underpins the athleticism and artistry that we see onstage. Class depends, in turn, on music. While some classes use recorded piano music, in cities, a live pianist is a standard and essential component of every class. It’s also a role that’s easily overlooked. The dancers watch and listen to the instructor, the only one who talks during the lesson; they watch, gesture and whisper to each other. Though they hear the piano, their only real interaction with the pianist may be a curtsy or bow during the clapping at the end of class.*
Ballet class is the bread and butter of dance, a daily ritual that underpins the athleticism and artistry that we see onstage. Class depends, in turn, on music. While some classes use recorded piano music, in cities, a live pianist is a standard and essential component of every class. It’s also a role that’s easily overlooked. The dancers watch and listen to the instructor, the only one who talks during the lesson; they watch, gesture and whisper to each other. Though they hear the piano, their only real interaction with the pianist may be a curtsy or bow during the clapping at the end of class.*
Class is a living, panting, grinning, sighing, sweating thing. The pianist's beat holds it all together, leading synchronized motion in a room of otherwise independent bodies. Body to body, class to class, sameness and individuality coexist. The sequence of combination types—pliés, tendus—is the same for every class, but the
details vary. The
teacher shows each combination, saying the steps in rhythm, and while the
dancers try to memorize the routine, the pianist decides what to play. Then the dancers do the exercise on each side, and
the process repeats, from combination to combination, barre to center, culminating
with leaps from one corner of the room to the other, the “grand allegro.”
Within the 90-minute ballet class, Ai may play 15 to 25 different pieces.
How does the pianist
choose the music? It can be quite simple: There are books of ballet class music, with songs
eight or 16 bars long and organized by exercise, and Ai bought one of these when she started playing for ballet classes. She was
not content to play by the book for long. Ai is determined not to play the
same thing twice throughout the day—a tall order when you play up to four
classes daily, as Ai does.
“For a musician like me who doesn’t wanna
repeat—anything—I just needed to have thousands of repertories. I went to the
library every day—I worked at the Harvard library before this free score
Internet developed—I went to the library and I copied.”
Ai
is attuned to how dancers respond to her music and chooses what to play based,
in part, on her sense of the energy in the room. “I see air—it sounds creepy—I
see air sinking down or spinning up whenever I play and then however dancers
react to it.” As we talk, I start to see the studio as more than a floor to
dance on but as this rectangular prism of energy in four dimensions: dancers
move through three-dimensional space according to the meter of the pianist.
Different
music “gives different feelings to the space,” Ai says. She remembers one
teacher calling her, the pianist, “the Einstein of the place.” That teacher was
Marcus Schulkind, dancer, choreographer, teacher, and founding director of
Green Street Studios in Cambridge. I asked him about this phrase, and he
explained that the pianist, by setting the tempo, determines the relation, or
relativity, between time and space.
“Maybe
I can tell you how I got hooked,” Ai says, “the first time that I thought,
‘this is really cool.’” The class was going okay. The energy in the room was
low. It was time for the grand allegro. Ai, who is also a composer, decided to
try something: she started scoring the movements, playing a different motif for
each step, instead of playing a tune. “The dancers, the energy came up and the
air, I don’t know how you say, sparkled?” Ai tells me, clasping her hands to
her chest in that classic pose of glee. “It was very good. The first time in
the ninety minutes that the music and dance got in tune or gave each other
something to inspire.”
This
interaction with other people is something Ai craves as an artist.
“I never
wanted to be a ‘pianist pianist.’” Ai tells me. It took a little while for her to explain to me what that
meant.“You can do everything on
piano. It’s not supposed to be an issue. You can cover the whole range of
orchestra, which is wonderful but which is horrible because you don’t need
anybody to play with you.” Ai, who also plays in a band and composes, likes to
play with other people. Though in a dance class, Ai is the only pianist in the
room, she isn’t exactly playing alone—she’s playing with the dancers. They are
interdependent. Her music—time—affects their movements through space and, the
reverse is also true.
"ai
is a very wonderful accompanist," Marcus told me in an email. "good
range of music and styles, very in the moment attentive and caring; very
connected to the process and very sensitive to the structure and process of
training.”
Ai
is is seated, barefoot, at an upright piano made of blond wood in a rectangular
room full of ballet dancers.
There
is a handwritten sign on the piano:
“PLEASE
Do Not play the piano so Hard
Be
Gentle.”
On
the piano’s stand, in place of a paper score, is an iPad.
Barre
is over, and center is underway in Kenny’s class at Ballet Arts, which began
right after our interview. It is time for the “petit allegro,” a series of
foot-twisting small jumps.
“We’ll mark it with music,” Kenny says, snapping his
fingers to indicate a tempo. “And.” Ai begins to play after Kenny gives the
upbeat. “Two groups this tempo, two groups a little faster.” With a jump on
every beat, a dancer can bounce up and down the whole time with what’s called
“ballon.” If you don’t quite get the steps though, you feel stuck to the floor.
After the dancers had all done the combination at the first tempo, Kenny claps
a faster beat, and Ai immediately speeds up. It is a bit fast for the dancers,
but that’s the point.
The
pianist, sometimes in contrast to the dancers, is a professional. One of the
reasons that it’s possible to overlook the pianist is that the pianist rarely
messes up—noticeably.
The
dancers gather in the back corner. Ai starts to play, and in groups of five or
six, the dancers begin running, jumping, bouncing across the room. It is the
grand allegro. Ai plays a piece so rousing that it looked like her left hand is
bouncing up and down on the piano as the dancers leap; her hand completely
flops over at the wrist as it comes high off the keys. The music rumbles with anticipation
as one group finishes, with a split leap toward the front corner, and the next group
gets into position.
At
the end of the class, Ai puts on her sandals, walks across the studio past the
dancers, stretching or going over tricky steps, and goes on to her next
engagement.
* Of course, the ballet pianist is not always
overlooked. Many teachers and students do acknowledge the pianist at the end of
class. One teacher I know signals the start of each combination by thanking the
pianist by name. Ai is greatly appreciated by the teachers and students she works with. Yet a coupling of mystery and necessity still hangs over my impressions of the ballet pianist as a figure. I'm lucky to have gotten to know Ai a little bit better.
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