Sending Appreciation to Ballet West’s – Piano Man – David Van Alstyne

 

In a ballet company, the greatest unsung heroes are always the pianists.
Upon reflection, I do not know how they do what they do … day in and day out.

In Ballet West, we had an amazing pianist named David Van Alstyne. He was a permanent fixture behind the piano for classes and most rehearsals.
As dancers, we are so spoiled to have someone of such amazing talent and understated grace to be the metronome of tempo for us to find the beat and rhythm in a dance, while also being the graceful and sublime flow of notes that his fingers relentlessly articulated with such gracious elegance.

David had the calmest and most even temper of anyone I think I have ever met. He was like a light in the corner of the room that … though subdued and understated, it managed to illuminate all things in ways that were instructive while always being inspiring.
Ballet dancers need to be seen and felt.
But David knew that deep down inside, he was the sound that inspired great movement. He was the heartbeat of the Pas de Deux. He was the torment of a crazed Giselle. He was the pounding forces of conflict. And he was the resolve of a dancer’s quest.

I know that dancing all day is something very difficult to do. But pounding keys and reading music while responding to the stops and starts required in rehearsals is something that many pianists are not built for.

I knew a pianist at the Stein Eriksen Lodge in Deer Valley, and he had to get regular, long massages just on his forearms, shoulders, back, and neck to be able to continue to play jazz every day during ski season.

I never heard David complain about anything. I am sure his arms and hands at times must have felt like lead, and I am sure he was exhausted often.
But I never saw him ever seem to show concern, discomfort, or anxiety.
Unless … he knew he would be performing in an actual performance either onstage or in the orchestra pit.
Or if he was a guest conductor for the orchestra in a show. Those were the only times I found him to be obviously tense, nervous, and on edge.
I think he liked being in the background … rather than at the forefront of an audience. Probably because he was a quiet man without any attitude of pomp or ceremony.

In the studio … and with us, he was solid like a rock.

Clearly, his comfort zone was in the rehearsal spaces with dancers lying and stretching on the floor, the smell of sweat, and the clacking of point shoes on the wood floor.
There were many moments when I would look over at him, and he always appeared completely calm and at one with us at that moment.
David never spoke much … as his fingers on the keys were his most eloquent form of communication. We totally knew him through the sounds that he could miraculously make happen in the vast and empty spaces of a ballet studio.

But his smile I will never forget.
His sparkling eyes and his genuine warmth could not be contained in his body, and it would spill out from his smile. He had a lovely and poignant sense of humor that was never hurtful or condescending.
I think I only saw him get frustrated a handful of times. And that frustration was for good reason.
I would look into his eyes, and I would know that while I was an instrument for sound to become expressed, I also knew that he understood more about music than I would ever fully comprehend in this life. His level of wisdom around music made him like a walking library of composers.

Certain people are so understated that we do not completely appreciate them until we have to go to some other ballet class or be in some other rehearsal without them.

In those unique moments, I learned how deeply gifted David was. And how much I missed how he sublimely expressed his art.

David was a completely unique person because his job was probably extremely challenging in ways that the dancers could probably never understand.

As a dancer, we dance our part and then exit.

But the music never stops. Just because we got a break did not mean that David ever got one in a rehearsal.
And while moving the entire body to music is very taxing on every level … playing the piano non-stop all day, every day, could not help but be a tremendous effort … in ways that we cannot completely grasp.

I never … ever remember him taking a sick day.

Now, he might have taken one, but I don’t ever remember a day that was without the masterful sounds of his piano in my mind.

I think of him as an ever-present angel that woke us up each morning. He allowed us to say hello to our bodies, and his music helped us to work out the kinks and soreness from the previous day’s work.
I wonder who helped him?

I hope that he had those that could soothe his tired hands and arms.
I wonder how his mind must have worked. And that he probably memorized pieces of music so completely that he did not even have to look at certain sequences at times.

I will never forget dancing in the Ballet, “Gershwin by George,” with David on the stage with us … playing this amazing music while we smoked cigarettes on long cigarette holders in costumes with a 1920s flapper theme.

I will forever remember dancing to his piano playing … with Raymond Van Mason in a Pas de Deux that was sublime, slinky, and so very sexy.

I remember David’s musical expertise prompting these amazing swings that Raymond and I did on the floor as I leaned out and Raymond had me by one arm … as I fell to the floor while Raymond spun me in such a way that he was to step over my body as I swung around.
I remember, being in my sequined dress with fringe, leaning over the piano, watching David play while I pretended to want to seduce him, and seeing him looking up … with a smile.

In those moments, something special was exchanged. We are both in a role and performing in a playful and vibrant way that was fully alive, fully engaged in the moment, and reflecting a light from another time and place.

I know that David is now in California, and I am sure he continues to teach, instruct, and play for dancers.
How could he not?

He is the Music Man. It is what beats his heart and makes his fingers dance on the ivory keyboards.

When he is no longer here, the world will feel a loss.

I will miss him … even though I never really knew him on a personal level outside the theater.
But I know him on the level of his artistic excellence and the strength of his conviction to music.

I think … that might be the best way to really know a person.

I know him from those places where he shined the brightest.
I know him from his convictions, talent, and taste.
I know him from the music that came from his heart and through his hands.
What I know … is that I know the soul and spirit that co-mingled with his human self so beautifully.

Today, I celebrate you … David.

I remember the many gifts that you gave to all of us.
And as I remember your sweet face and gentle smile … know that I hope in another time and place that the universe allows me to feel that beautiful heart once again, through the mastery of your music and in the sharing of your very … unique soul.

~Suzanne Wagner~