Favorite Performances – The Russian Dance in Swan Lake – Recovering from an Injury

 

There are moments that stand out … in more than one way. Dancing the Russian Dance in Swan Lake was one of them.
First of all, the music of this particular piece of Tchaikovsky … is beyond exquisite.
In the beginning it is soft, flowing, and it flutters about in your mind like a cold wind whipping through the branches of a tree in the winter.
Most of the first part of this dance the ballerina is on her toes. But what makes this piece stand out is the musical shift that takes place as we move from softly walking through the icy winds of Russia … to an explosion of power, passion, and virtuosity that is expressed by the Russian people at the end.
This music calls to the sinuousness between the humming strings of the violin and the elongated gracefulness of the dancer.
This is a deeply personal dance between the concertmaster (the first chair violin) and the ballerina. We become one. Each an expression of some deep longing, on a quest, that is inspired by the music.
Ballet is designed to flow with the violin in all ways. And in each ballet, there are specific instruments that move us into that dance.

The call of the first part of the music is designed to draw one into the story of the ballerina as she moves across the vastness of the Russian Steps. Then it explodes into a Trepak (a Russian Folk Dance). It builds slowly and gains momentum as it increases the escalating tensions as it moves faster and faster.
While it starts as a solo by the violin, as it builds it includes the whole orchestra in the coda at the end. It becomes dizzying and makes the dancer and the audience wonder if it will all spin out of control.

As a dancer, I often danced to a particular instrument in the orchestra that leads the tune of the composition.
More often than not it is either a piano, a flute, or a violin.
It is the lyrical qualities of those instruments that allow a dancer to become one … not just with the ballet, the choreography, or the music.
But as a dancer, I am also merging with the concertmaster (the lead violin) during that particular piece of music as he or she is playing in the pit during a show.
There are moments when something very special happens musically … and in the dance. This piece of music is … by itself … a masterpiece that combines the passion of the Russian Cossack Folk Dances with the beautiful movement of a ballerina that carries an almost timeless quality that hovers in the air as her toes skim the ice.

Add to such an amazing moment, the costumes for this role are often pure silk and move like a long, white, flowing, breeze. They are often white, silver, and gold with glittering gems like the crystalline snow.

The dance begins with the ballerina walking on point like it is a normal stroll through the snow. And speeds up and as it calls to all the other instruments in the orchestra join in.
It is a dance that cannot help but be mesmerizing and hypnotic.

At the time I was getting to do this dance in Ballet West, I had just recovered from a bad injury to my left foot.

I had torn the muscles between my big toe and my second toe. It had happened in a rehearsal and there is nothing like the sound of tendons breaking. They sound like a gunshot going off in your foot.
It was a bad injury. One that you know instantly is not a good thing. I went to go into a jump … off my left foot … as my right leg moved from front-to side and end in the back like a half circle.

But in that moment, I went to go up … but instead of going up, I had no ballon (a ballet term for lift) and I was unable to jump off my foot at all.

Then this searing pain coursed up my leg and my whole lower leg went numb.

The doctor said that I had to be off it for at least 6 weeks.

He warned me not to overreact and do something like throw the dog across the room.

I looked at him oddly and asked, “Why would I do that?”
He laughed and said that dancers handle stress and anger through the intense physical exertion required in our art. Being injured, we don’t have our normal outlet and then things can get very bottled up. That is why some dancers that are injured will suddenly snap and lash out at others for one reason or another.

I thought that would never happen to me.

But try being still for weeks and not using your foot. It does get to you over time.
My six weeks ended up being more like nine weeks. It was a bad injury. If I carefully looked at my foot, I could see a chasm between my two toes.
Clearly something was not connected.

I remember trying to get back into shape and I was in the studio attempting to do a barre and mostly testing the foot.

Relevés were next to impossible. I had to learn how to work the outside muscles of my foot to allow me to raise my heel. I remember being in that small studio with Bruce Caldwell (the principal male of Ballet West) and crying. He was very kind and told me to take it slow. That strength returns if you don’t push but work to rebuild.

Rebuilding was the focus for the next few weeks. Slowly I got strength and function back.

Just in time for Swan Lake rehearsals.

And I get this lovely opportunity to do the Russian Dance. Another dream come true!
In some ways this dance was easier on my bad foot than expected. Staying up on point was less of a problem and it begins like a walk with less jumping. Now, at the end … it is fast paced but not a ton of jumping as the music is too quick.
The rehearsals go well, and we are at the performance for opening night. I start this amazing dance and as I am at the very beginning, walking on the tips of my toes across the stage. I hear something snap … again.

“Oh God! Not again!” I think to myself.

This snap sounded a bit like Velcro breaking loose. In that moment, my whole lower leg goes numb from my knee down.

It was a similar sensation to the first injury. I was terrified. I am almost to the place where the dance speeds up, and I cannot feel my foot or my lower leg.
But, “The show must go on!”
I keep going hoping my foot is working even if I can’t feel it.

Which seems to be true.

I finish the dance and breathe a sigh of relief.

I take my bow and go to the back to sit down and observe the rest of the ballet, and the other dances. Again, to become part of the frame of a ballet that is happening in the center.

I have to sit in a proud, perfect, posture and the position is terribly uncomfortable to my injured foot.

As I am sitting, I try to gently move my foot to see what I might have done or not done.

Everything seems to be in working order, but it still feels odd. Sort of numb and prickly.
We finish the ballet and I go back to the dressing rooms and attempt to see if there is swelling or something wrong.
Oddly, all things seem to be in working order and I notice that the restrictive place that I had been feeling for months in my healing foot, is looser. There is more range of motion and that is when I realize that I had broken some scar tissue loose.

When we are injured. The scar tissue is a tougher type of tissue. It tries to restrict the area, so the body can heal. Once the body heals … the muscles and the brain decide at a certain point that the scar tissue is too restrictive, and eventually the action and movements of the muscles will tear that scar tissue. That is what makes that sound like Velcro breaking apart.
That seemed to be what happened to me that performance. While the breaking of the scar tissue was a great thing … it was scary having it happen on stage … in a performance.
Almost instantly, my range of motion increased, and my flexibility improved on that foot.

Seems my journey across the Russian Steps was to allow me to reclaim more freedom and motion. Thank you to the Goddesses of Dance … for this great performing moment.

~Suzanne Wagner~