Why did you want to make a ballet about Anna Pavlova? 

I love celebrating people who did extraordinary things in dance. So when the director of En Avant Dance Company in Guayaquil, Ecuador, wanted to work with me, I went to my folder and asked: what happened in Latin America related to dance? Who needs to be celebrated? Anna Pavlova was a pioneer, and actually performed in Guayaquil in 1917. It was a new ballet, so we needed to do a lot of audience development – but a challenge always makes me excited.

How do you reimagine Pavlova on stage?

How can you sum up a whole life and honour her legacy, in just an hour and a half? I work with an extraordinary writer and dramaturg, Ignacio Vleming. It was an 11-month process of development, and before that, all the research. You need to go into the archives, as I did at the Royal Academy of Dance. I analysed her body language in images and also in recordings held at the British Film Institute in London. She develops as a Russian prima ballerina but becomes aware that she can impact people. At the end of the day, you need to make her human and approachable.

Pavlova belonged to the Belle Époque: the moment when fashion, photography and cinema all started. She was very connected with what was happening: she always wanted to be photographed, and developed her own posing style. Diaghilev didn’t allow his productions to be filmed, but she did. She embraced new technologies, which was very exciting.

Belle Époque… La Pavlova. Photo: Elías Enoc

‘The RAD were very keen to share everything. I recommend everyone to go there’

How did visiting the RAD archive help?

The RAD has lots of magazines that talk about Pavlova, lots of photographs that I hadn’t seen. There are even some items that she owned, like a little figurine that she crafted herself and a scarf she wore. I even found an article that she wrote about pointe shoes. She says that using pointe shoes is a sacrifice, but also gets you close to something mystical. That’s the only text that we have from her. 

The RAD were very keen to share everything with me. I recommend everyone to go there, they have a lot of things for anyone that wants to develop choreography. Until I did this research, I didn’t feel there was a space for me in the RAD, as a choreographer. But when I started to use the archive and library, I felt there is more room for members like me. 

What connects your work as a performer, choreographer and mentor?

What connects is my love for dance, but also for the people that dedicate their lives to dance. I’ve travelled a lot and seen the difficulties that women and girls especially have to develop their creativity. So my work always tries to celebrate women and girls. In my tiny world, I’m hoping that I’ll help them to achieve their dreams.

Pioneering Pavlova… Avatâra Ayuso’s ballet. Photo: Elías Enoc

How did your dance journey begin? 

My parents loved to dance – in Spain, people dance all the time – but I was shy. When I was seven, a friend of mine was going to ballet. I didn’t know what that was, but gave it a try. I loved the fact that I was connecting to myself with my body. It was something that I hadn’t experienced before. I trained in Mallorca, but also went to Madrid to study Hispanic philology and linguistics. A tumour in my leg stopped my dream of becoming a ballet dancer, so I went on to tango and then contemporary dance. I could tell things in my own way, which was mind-blowing: I can be myself!

Having an independent company is, as you can imagine, challenging on every level – you don’t have the same resources as a big company. But it is like a laboratory. You can experiment. You can try ideas. You can progress your art, your vision – have flexible creativity. I also make a conscious effort to overcome my Eurocentrism by collaborating with other artists. I went to the North Pole to work with the Inuit at minus 40. I’ve been in Patagonia, Burkina Faso, Senegal and Taiwan, working with pioneering artists whose work deserves to be seen.

What makes a good teacher?

Generosity. You need to find a generous teacher who will offer you the best approach according to your needs: your physical and mental condition, your emotional context. That takes a lot of work from teachers. 

Creating a no blame environment in the space is also important. A good teacher should be happy to be challenged. Pavlova was actually a very good teacher. Her dancers said how generous and humble she was – but at the same time she changed the lives of so many people.

Watch

Trailer for La Pavlova

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When did you start dancing? 

My mother was director of the conservatoire of dance in Madrid. I started ballet when I was eight years old, but wasn’t taking it seriously – it was decided that I didn’t have enough grit or commitment to be a ballet dancer. But when I was around 13, I asked for a second chance. A few years later, the Royal Ballet performed in Madrid and held auditions for the Royal Ballet School. They gave me a scholarship, I came to London – and 27 years later, I’m still here.

Did you have the dance career you hoped for?

Oh, much more than that. I had a wonderful career and got to a level that I never thought possible. When I retired from dancing during lockdown, I left with my heart full. 

Did you encounter Benesh as a dancer?

We had a fantastic choreologist at English National Ballet named Yuri Uchiumi – I was impressed at how meticulous she was in all her rehearsals. Even back then, I thought: if I’m ever a repetiteur, that’s how I want to be. When I was thinking about retiring, I told my then director, Tamara Rojo, that I wanted to teach the company’s rep. She said it’s a good idea, but it would be great if you studied Benesh first. Something clicked, like, this is meant to be.

Does notation involve a different way of thinking?

Rudolf Benesh was a mathematician, so it’s very analytical. As a dancer, you think in a more visual way, so Benesh allowed me to think about movement in a different way.

At first I found the training extremely hard – not just the notation, but finding time to study when I was still dancing. Benesh itself was really hard at the beginning: you’re learning a whole new language with its own specific vocabulary and rules. Luckily, I had fantastic teachers at Benesh International who were with me every step of the way.

Has learning BMN changed the way you think about ballet?

As a dancer, you know the story and you know your part, and that’s it. As a choreologist, you have a more complete view of a ballet – everything from music to props, lighting and sets, and you need to know every single part. Now I see what’s on the paper – especially in the big numbers and group pieces with intricate patterns. I think in lines, dots and dashes.

You have been involved in the Frederick Ashton Foundation Shadowing Scheme – what are the challenges with Ashton’s ballets?

A lot of Ashton is not notated. We have to decipher the surviving notes, which has been really interesting, especially with Hamlet and Ophelia, which was one of the first things we did with the Ashton Foundation. Annotation is a live document. Nothing is set in stone and you have to be open minded, though I always try to go back to the original as much as possible. That’s why notation is so important. 

What are the highlights of your notation career?

The first time that I taught anything for the Royal Ballet is a day I’ll never forget. It was the prologue for The Sleeping Beauty. At my first rehearsal, I had the whole ballet staff, Kevin O’Hare (the director), and everybody watching me. I thought, if I survive this, I’ll survive anything. Luckily, it went well.

Another highlight was teaching MacMillan’s Requiem – it’s such a beautiful piece. When you’re a notator or repetiteur, you’re so involved in counts and steps and making sure that people are in the right place, so it’s hard to take a step back and watch the piece as a whole. I remember watching the opening night in awe. It was almost a religious experience. 

Notating Crystal Pite was a challenge. I wasn’t used to notating contemporary work or big groups that move in such a specific way. I also loved staging Ashton’s La Fille Mal Gardée last year. I felt a lot of responsibility and made sure that I learned it properly, to pass on all this knowledge from generations. I wanted to do a good job.

What advice would you give a dancer who is considering training in BMN?

Benesh is an incredibly powerful tool for anyone who wants to become a repetiteur or stager or learn more about the history of a piece. If you want a more complete, clear and precise way of staging a ballet, then learn Benesh. If you want to learn what the choreographer intended, learn Benesh. And if you want to contribute to future generations of dancers and choreologists by notating and preserving the dance pieces of today, then learn Benesh. Don’t be intimidated, and persevere.

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Sir Peter Wright, RAD Vice-President and former President of the Benesh Institute, has entered his 100th year. Ten years ago, Dance Gazette marked his 90th birthday with an interview about his extraordinary career – here are some highlights.

What’s marvellous now is that it seems to have become accepted for men to pursue a career in dance. I had considerable difficulty. When I was 16 I was very good at ballroom dancing and loved hopping around. Then my mother took me to see the ballet and I loved it. I saw Henry Danton in the spotlight, surrounded by beautiful women, and thought, that’s what I want to do.

Then the trouble began, because my father was dead against it. He was a chartered accountant and a Quaker, and sent me to Bedales. Eventually, I ran away from school with a friend. It was February, freezing cold, and we had no money – we lasted two nights in a cow field. It was hell. But my father realised how much I wanted to dance and said he would give me my blessing, but no money.

I never went near a ballet school. As an apprentice with Ballet Joos, I spent all day in the theatre. I learned about all facets of theatre, but it was a hopeless way of training, because there was never enough time. 

I didn’t plan to stage the classics – John Cranko pushed me into it. He gave me marvellous opportunities at Stuttgart Ballet, and told me to stage Giselle. I said, ‘I don’t like Giselle, I never have.’ But he gave me six weeks to research and I came back to Stuttgart dead keen. I was lucky to have Marcia Haydée as Giselle, and it caused a big stir. 

I love the classics, but was able to look at them from the outside. If there was anything I found boring I found ways to change it. You’ve got to be fairly brutal. Theatre should never ever be boring.

Running a company isn’t easy, but I found a good way of communicating with the staff, which is essential. You have to know the dancers well and not be afraid of honesty. It’s no good leading people on.

It took a long time, but finally getting the Sadler’s Wells Ballet up to Birmingham (as Birmingham Royal Ballet) in 1990 was absolutely wonderful. I was on quite a high. I reluctantly had to leave BRB due to serious illness, but it was well on the way to becoming a great company.

I was President of the Benesh Institute, and am a great champion of Benesh Movement Notation. What it’s done for ballet is marvellous, and I always encourage dancers to learn it. Ultimately, I hope the day will come when dancers learn their parts before rehearsals start.

My wife, the dancer Sonya Hanna, was a great help. She put everything in proportion: ‘For God’s sake, Pete, it’s only a ballet!’

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1 Bacchanale from Samson et Dalila by Camille Saint-Saëns

The first opera I was commissioned to choreograph was for the Bregenz Festival in 1987. The Bacchanale is located in the third act of the opera and depicts the celebration of the victory of the Philistines over the Hebrews. It’s an ecstatic dance, energetic and furious, dedicated to Bacchus, the god of wine, and was an incredible introduction to opera. Over many years, I have collaborated with opera singers and dancers but nothing has touched the visceral experience I encountered with this piece.

2 Let X = X by Laurie Anderson

In 1982, a free disc of this track was released in a magazine my dad brought home. It was a completely new sound to me, played repeatedly, and, although I hadn’t attempted to choreograph before, I knew I wanted to make a dance like this – whatever that meant! Looking back it was a mixture of the language, deadpan humour and minimalist music that inspired me. Laurie Anderson is still a great inspiration.

3 I’ll Be Your Mirror by The Velvet Underground & Nico

On the day Andy Warhol died, I was at a gig of Nico’s in Brixton. Nico didn’t speak throughout the entire performance, then before the final song she simply said, ‘This is for Andy.’ She sang I’ll Be Your Mirror – the beauty of Lou Reed’s lyrics and their complexity shone through.

4 Les Noces by Igor Stravinsky

Bronislava Nijinska’s choreography for Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes in 1923 is a perfect work. Everything works in beautiful simplicity: form, music and design. I did eventually choreograph Les Noces for Simon Rattle and the Berlin Philharmonic with a cast of over 100 dancers aged between eight and 80-years-old. It was a great honour to work with this score but nothing can touch its original staging. 

5 Heroes by David Bowie

My favourite Bowie track. An anthem of hope and, even if something comes to an end, it doesn’t make it any less. We played this at my mother’s funeral.

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The best advice I ever received 

The best advice I received from my first director and teachers was to be curious in my approach and learning.

Aiming not to limit myself with a blinkered mindset but to allow exploration to guide and inspire my growth. Try not to dwell on the negative – but learn from mistakes to build and expand growth both mentally, emotionally and physically. There is no going back, but only advancement forward.

Paul Liburd

The advice I would pass on 

Embrace your curiosity in the studio; approach each movement with an open mind, and let your expressions reflect your feelings to tell a story. This will deepen your connection to the art form and allow your artistry in dance to come alive.

Most importantly, find enjoyment in what you do.

I use this now as a teacher, aiming to stay true to the form but allowing my students space to bring their personalities and unique perspectives to the journey.

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Which is more nerve wracking: an audition for a Netflix series or RAD ballet exams?

They’re both very nerve wracking. To be honest, I always feel there’s a little pressure with ballet, because my sister Jessica is a big inspiration for me – she’s an amazing ballerina. I do feel quite stressed going into ballet exams – especially doing pirouettes!

My auditions for Wednesday were actually very enjoyable. It was a great opportunity to play around with the character, and to get an idea of Tim Burton and Alan Miles’ [respectively, director and showrunner] vision of her. I was trying to make the most of that opportunity.

Agnes DeMille was also the name of a major 20th century choreographer – how did you start building the character? 

I did recognise her name, and when the dance aspect of her character came into play, I was like: this can’t be a coincidence. 

Initially, I made a mood board of the character, which I always do, blurting out all of my ideas. I also watched a lot of old movies for inspiration, anything with a quirky character: Jack Nicholson in The Shining and One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, Whatever Happened to Baby Jane. Anything where I could pull up some unhinged energy. 

Agnes is an interesting character – she was certainly fun to play. I love how layered she is – she has quite a complex family situation in her background, which was really interesting to explore. She desperately wants to form a connection with people, because maybe that’s something that she lacked at home. She’s quite insecure at heart.

Evie Templeton in Wednesday. Photo: Helen Sloan/Netflix

And you got to dance with Lady Gaga – what was that like?

It’s so surreal, I’m pinching myself. Gaga is very lovely, down to earth, incredibly talented. I was so lucky to get to work with her. Tim Burton is also amazing. I was a big fan of all of his work – The Corpse Bride, Edward Scissorhands and Beetlejuice, all of the universes he creates. He has very calm energy. Stepping onto a big set like that, my first job on that scale and that magnitude, it was nice to have someone calm and easy to talk to.

How did dance enter your life? 

My mum was a professional figure skater, so I think creativity and artistry run in our blood. A lot of my passion for dance is down to my sister [Jessica, a medal winner at the Genée in 2019, and now with Finnish National Ballet]. I was following and joining in at the back of classes, and then suddenly realised this is very fun, something I wanted to be part of my life. 

The moment where I discovered that this was definitely what I wanted to do with my life was my opening night for Les Misérables in the West End when I was 10 or 11 years old, which was an incredible introduction to the industry. The energy you get from performing is so electric and addictive, and I don’t think you can replicate that atmosphere anywhere else.

What did your RAD ballet training give you?

It gave me a lot of dedication. When you think about it, dance is very similar to acting. It’s all about telling a story, and it’s only your role if you put a bit of yourself into it. Having an understanding of your body is also very important when you trying to embody a character. 

Evie, why does dance matter to you?

Dance is a lovely way to feel free and as a creative outlet, a way of expressing yourself. I’ve met a lot of my closest friends from dance or from workshops or acting jobs. Dance brings people with similar interests together, and they get to grow with and support each other. With dance, it’s about losing yourself. You can forget all your struggles and just lose yourself in the music and movement. It’s a big part of my life.

Why Dance Matters

Why Dance Matters is the RAD’s podcast – a monthly series of conversations with extraordinary people from the world of dance and beyond. Please do listen and subscribe.

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Hear the full interview with Evie Templeton

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Towards the end of last year, I had the pleasure of working with RAD students in the Margot Fonteyn International Ballet Competition and the Bedells Bursary. It was an uplifting and motivating experience, and I am grateful for the commitment, energy and passion that they brought to proceedings. 

As well as observing the participants in a ballet class and their chosen classical variations, we also watched them perform their Dancer’s Own variation, a piece choreographed for or by them – and a wonderful opportunity for them to demonstrate their skills.

We have recently changed the requirements for Dancer’s Own: people no longer need to perform the variation in pointe shoes should they have already opted to perform their classical variation en pointe. We hope to allow participants greater freedom to demonstrate their personal strengths and skillset, and to match the realities of professional ballet dancers today – they need to be able to do everything!

As I worked with the students last year, it struck me that virtually all of them presented much more confidently in their Dancer’s Own than in their classical variations. I’m not talking about whether or not they were smiling – it was in the way that they engaged their whole body, attacking movements and space with an energy and zip that wasn’t always evident in their classical work.

‘I wonder if we too often focus on not getting things wrong, rather than using our energy and dynamics’

Why is this the case? Of course, ballet’s technical demands are specific and very difficult to get right. But I wonder if we too often focus on not getting things ‘wrong’, rather than giving ourselves the best possible chance of achieving the difficulties by using our entire bodies, the energy and dynamic from the movements that come before and after a particularly tricky step or section. Learning to harness momentum has, in my experience, been key to unlocking those challenging passages. 

It may sound simple, but when I was struggling in my career as a dancer, I would often tell myself: ‘Remember to dance’.  It brought me back to the essence of what I was doing, prompting me to listen again to the music or to think about my character. When I aimed to stick the pose arabesque as Des Grieux in Manon, for example, was I trying to display my own flawless technique or was I demonstrating the character’s growing confidence as he approached Manon? Focusing on these things helped me remember what the choreography and steps were designed to do – to allow me to dance! I look forward to many more RAD dancers sharing that confidence and freedom in this year’s competitions.

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