Forsythe

“Mr. Fix It” – Meet PNB’s Director of Physical Therapy, Boyd Bender

April 30, 2018 by 4dancers

PNB Forsythe — Pacific Northwest Ballet dances Forsythe’s “One Flat Thing, reproduced”. Photo by Angela Sterling.

by Emma Love Suddarth

“My ankle is jammed.”

If you ask Boyd Bender, the Pacific Northwest Ballet’s Director of Physical Therapy Services (and physical therapist), how many times over his years with the company he has heard that sentence, his answer would be in the thousands. He’s a wizard when it comes to mending those ankles that suddenly feel stuck, restricted, or “out of place” from a hard landing or a sudden torque. However, Bender didn’t acquire 30 years of thankful dancers based solely on ankle pulls.

If you walked into the PNB studios on an average Tuesday and felt the need to address that acute back pain that came on yesterday, or that chronic tendonitis that has intensified over a long rehearsal period, you would head straight for the sign-up sheet on the PT board. Bender and his fellow PTs’ hours vary depending on the day of the week, and any dancer can sign up for a 15-minute slot within that period.

The system at the theater during performance time is different; it consists of a dry erase board and markers (which festively turn red and green over Nutcracker season) and a first-come-first-serve type of sign up. The schedule fills up fast in both settings—and the battles over the pen or marker to get your name down first are frequent. While the session time allotment may seem brief, it is only a part of ongoing, continual care. While Bender’s treatment begins at the onset, sudden or not, of the problem, it is rarely a “one-visit” fix and requires regular visits to his table for repeated care. He even acts as frequent liaison between dancers and the sports medicine doctor, massage therapists, or outside PTs (to name a few). The time spent with the company PT is both extremely necessary and immeasurably valuable—one of the most essential elements in a dancer’s career.

Boyd Bender Director of Physical Therapy Services & Physical Therapist at Pacific Northwest Ballet — Director of Physical Therapy Services and Physical Therapist Boyd Bender at work at PNB. Photo by Emma Love Suddarth

In PNB’s case, there are numerous generations of dancers who swear by Boyd Bender’s care. His breadth of knowledge is not just incredibly vast, but also constantly expanding. Not only must his know-how encompass the entirety of the human body, but it also must address the variety of situations that a dance career might require that body to end up in. The physical issues that arise from Kent Stowell’s Swan Lake are very different than those from William Forsythe’s One Flat Thing, reproduced; and, when the transition time between the reps spans only two days, Bender must be immediately ready to address the new problems that the dancers bring in to him.

Bender, his fellow PTs, the company sports medicine doctor, the massage therapists, the company manager, and the artistic director—Peter Boal, who also offers a dancer’s perspective on each work— routinely meet in order to discuss the physical requirements of the specific reps, as well as to keep track of the overall health of the company. On top of that, Bender sometimes watches videos of the pieces prior to the rep as to get a feel for issues that might arise. He compares this practice to a similar one in football—where PTs will also study videos of upcoming competitors to see how and where they hit, in order to prepare as best they can to address the players’ physical needs. However, most of all he prefers to rely heavily on the information the dancers bring to him in the beginning of the process in order to gauge what to expect. While each dancer’s body is different, and predisposed to varying pains and problems, specific trends oftentimes surface over the course of a single rep.

PNB Swan Lake — Pacific Northwest Ballet dancing Kent Stowell’s Swan Lake. Photo by Angela Sterling

During Swan Lake, his table was occupied by a never-ending stream of swans with any number of lower leg problems—a common one being a bad calf. The audience might likely never think of it, but those swans encircling the stage, standing motionless on one leg for the entirety of the 2^nd and 4^th act pas de deux, are aching and sweating more than if they were dancing. By the end of the run almost every swan had a bad right or left calf, depending on which side of the stage she stood. However, three days later, one of those same swans is back on Bender’s table at the studios, attempting to put words to the intense neck pain she is experiencing due to a certain motion of One Flat Thing, which she then gingerly, very cautiously demonstrates. Boyd is ready for all of it.

Thirty seconds after a horrific ankle sprain, Bender is in the room ready to help. Ten years of on-and-off Achilles tendonitis, Bender is still finding new ways of caring for it. His arsenal of tools and skills is immeasurable; whether he is adjusting, lasering, ultra-sounding, taping, massaging, scraping, or even exercising (that’s right, it’s not all passive!) the problematic area, he’s thoroughly monitoring, addressing, and protecting the entirety of the dancer’s physical well-being. I, and numerous others, can easily name more than one instance that I likely wouldn’t have been back on stage that evening if it wasn’t for Bender’s care. You might never realize that one vertebra on your back being out of place is the reason for the shooting nerve pain in the back of your knee—but Bender knows.

And he’ll fix it too.

Pacific Northwest Ballet’s season resumes in June with their “Love & Ballet” program. Get more details by visiting the PNB website.

Contributor Emma Love Suddarth is from Wichita, Kansas. She studied with Sharon Rogers and on scholarship at Pacific Northwest Ballet School, and attended summer courses at Central Pennsylvania Youth Ballet, Ballet Academy East, and Pacific Northwest Ballet School. She was first recipient of the Flemming Halby Exchange with the Royal Danish Ballet School and was also a 2004 and 2005 recipient of a Kansas Cultural Trust Grant. She joined Pacific Northwest Ballet as an apprentice in 2008 and was promoted to corps de ballet in 2009.

While at PNB, she has performed featured roles in works by George Balanchine, Peter Boal, David Dawson, Ulysses Dove, William Forsythe, Jiri Kylian, Mark Morris, Margaret Mullin, Crystal Pite, Alexei Ratmansky, Kent Stowell, Susan Stroman, and Price Suddarth. Some of her favorites include the Siren in Balanchine’s The Prodigal Son, Jiri Kylian’s Petit Mort, David Dawson’s A Million Kisses to My Skin, William Forsythe’s New Suite, and Price Suddarth’s Signature.

She is a contributor to Pacific Northwest Ballet’s blog. She is married to fellow PNB dancer Price Suddarth.

The Amazing Adventures of Andrea Class: Reflections Of A New Teacher

September 20, 2015 by 4dancers

by Andrea Thompson

For the past two summers, I have had the distinct pleasure and challenge of teaching in both Hubbard Street’s level III intensive and the San Francisco Conservatory of Dance’s summer program. This year I taught Hubbard Street 2 repertory in Chicago, aptly named “Andrea Class” in San Francisco, and ballet in both programs. Three summers ago, if anyone had asked me to teach I would have politely and very definitively declined. I didn’t feel ready. I didn’t feel that I was qualified to deliver information as if I were an expert when there was still so much for me to take in from my teachers and peers. After all, I felt, those who are designated as educators in this field should be both veterans of their subject matter and skilled orators, imparting tried-and-true wisdom to their earnest disciples. Though I had tried a lot of things, I hadn’t yet decided what my truths were. As it turns out, two years into my teaching journey I still haven’t, and every time I teach I seem to be amassing evidence that that’s not actually an essential element of it.

What is truth?

What I mean by “truth” is settling on a single approach based on years of building expertise in a particular movement vocabulary/philosophy. There’s certainly value in the long-term, deep study of one such language, just as there is value in having years of experience teaching. With experience come strategies for how to best communicate with and reach dancers of all age groups, skill levels, and dispositions. But in terms of class content and structure, I believe that there are infinite ways to go about challenging students to learn and grow and engage with dance. Personally, my relationship with it has been kept vibrant by the regular overhauling of the perspectives I’ve absorbed, since I have been lucky enough to come across new approaches to dance every few years of my career.

In the current climate of the contemporary genre it seems an urgent necessity to examine and utilize all the information I’ve engaged with, rather than decide that one system or movement language is more valid than another. It stands to reason that in order to stay relevant, delivering the multifarious ideas I like to employ requires a class structure that is fluid.

Reading the room

Needless to say this makes planning a little difficult. And as essential as planning is – more on that later – this summer I found that reading the room while teaching trumps nearly everything else in terms of importance. Depending on how the student-teacher interaction is going, handling the expectations of 30 trusting young dancers can feel like a huge responsibility – or a solo stand-up comedy show, a giant improv score, herding cats, accidentally going onstage naked, being lost in a foreign country, suddenly becoming an omnipotent wizard, a rock concert, or a psychological experiment in which the roles of subject and scientist are unclear.

It’s a constant conversation, and the same way that you would adjust your wording if you see you’re not getting your point across, or your listener is getting bored, you adjust your words or your physicality or your plan for the day in order to arrive at your point in class. On the other end of the spectrum, there’s this weird power of insistence that you have as a teacher that you might not use in polite conversation with a peer. I was surprised to find that sometimes, “try harder,” “stick with it,” and “just do it because I say so” were valid and effective demands that produced dramatic results. The beautiful simplicity of setting higher expectations in the room could be just as enabling of student improvement as wracking my brain for synonyms of the same idea and the resultant assumption that I, as a teacher, was failing to articulate what was needed.

But regardless of my ambitions for the environment I wanted to create and the growth I wanted to facilitate, this summer with Andrea Class I had to come up with the “what” of the class as well as the “how.” Most of my plans for Andrea Class began with an objective: a larger idea about dance or performance I wanted to explore, or a result I wanted to curate for the students, i.e. a feeling of freedom, the joy of digging into effort, or mastering some ubiquitous elements of floorwork. I compiled exercises that lent themselves to that end, mixing things I’d done before with new games and improv tasks. Next came playlist planning, since I have yet to find a streaming service whose musical tastes match my own. Occasionally I made a phrase to provide context for the research and highlight movement pathways I felt would be beneficial to work on.

The “plan-n-scrap method”

After all that, most of my Andrea Classes played out thusly: armed with ideas and music, I would begin, and within a few minutes of moving around together surveying my surroundings, realize the majority of my planning was useless. I had picked the wrong theme of the day, or there was something else lacking in the atmosphere that needed to be addressed. I once played an improv game called “what the room needs,” and never has there been a better time to use it than while teaching, even if I’m the only one playing. After a handful of unsuccessful-feeling classes in which I stuck rigidly to my curriculum, I started applying that idea to my teaching and consequently scrapped most of my plans. I began to trust that my own experiences as a professional dancer (and not-too-distant student) would work together with my instincts and empathy to steer the spontaneous class structure. I tried to dance as much as possible in my classes so I could feel what I was asking of my students, and I found that my physical participation was often a better indicator of what needed to happen next than what I could divine from the front of the room. My dancing was also, I found out, much more effective than words in helping people figure out unfamiliar pathways in floorwork.

This plan-n-scrap method is evidenced in the hilarious log I kept of my Andrea Class teaching. In it I wrote my idea for each class followed by what actually happened when I got in there. I always started with a plan, and what I discerned was that my brain needed to go through the steps of making it in order to kickstart itself into curious-leader mode. Inevitably by the time class began my thoughts would be miles down the road from where they started, but my cranial engine did not rev up properly unless I truly applied myself to planning. My own class-taking within the Conservatory’s summer program also sparked ideas about what does and doesn’t work in dance education, and what my optimal role might be within the existing structure of it. Some of my reflections emerged days later while teaching, having stewed subconsciously until the right opportunity presented itself. Another advantage to all the planning was that I knew if I ever choked, I had not just a plan B written down, but C, D, E, and F to choose from.

At SFCD I had the luxury of working consistently with the same group of people over the course of four weeks. We got to know each other, trust each other, sweat together, grow together. I haven’t taught any “Andrea Classes” outside of that program, but I’m now very interested in continuing to explore my teaching voice as an ongoing aspect of my development within this field.

I almost wrote “find” my teaching voice, but I have a feeling that for as long as I continue to teach, I will never fully pin down my approach to dance or dance pedagogy as an absolute. It feels like the discoveries I made about myself as a teacher this summer have already begun to influence my own dancing, and have set the course for my approach to shift once again.

I once heard the brilliant ex-Forsythe dancer Christopher Roman confide to a teaching colleague, “I’m always changing my mind. I can’t do one thing today and expect it to still feel right tomorrow, but if it was right for that moment then it was the right thing.” So it went with my Andrea Classes this summer, and so it goes with my Andrea Teaching. Having moved past the fear of unpreparedness from three years ago, I’m now looking forward to charting the unknown seas ahead.

Contributor Andrea Thompson trained at the American Ballet Theatre’s Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis School, the Ailey School, and the San Francisco Conservatory of Dance. Those schools and programs with Springboard Danse Montréal, Nederlands Dans Theater and Batsheva Dance Company brought opportunities to perform works by William Forsythe, Ohad Naharin, Alex Ketley, Christian Burns, Marina Mascarell Martinez, Gregory Dolbashian, Idan Sharabi, Danielle Russo, and Robyn Mineko Williams.

Professionally, Andrea has danced with the Foundry, Zhukov Dance Theatre, and LoudHoundMovement. Most recently she danced with Hubbard Street 2, where she performed works by Loni Landon, Alex Soares, Alejandro Cerrudo, Ihsan Rustem, Bryan Arias, and Victor A. Ramirez. She joined Shen Wei Dance Arts this spring.

Dancing Balanchine’s Theme And Variations

April 30, 2015 by 4dancers

Boston Ballet Balanchine — Ashley Ellis and Paulo Arrais rehearse George Balanchine’s “Theme and Variations”. Photo by Lasha Khozashvilli.

by Ashley Ellis

Boston Ballet’s upcoming program is titled Thrill of Contact, and it’s an amazing collection of ballets. Costumes range from Classical tutus to goofy hats—to dancers wearing socks. It’s an ideal program to display Boston Ballet at its best; showcasing the incredible power and range of styles that its dancers can achieve. It features works by Robbins and Forsythe, and a world premiere by Principal Dancer, Jeffrey Cirio.

It also includes George Balanchine’s Theme and Variations.

It is extremely gratifying to push myself to try and achieve the control and precision demanded by Balanchine’s choreography. In addition to the demands of the steps and musicality, there are stylistic details that are important to apply when dancing these ballets. They say that some of these stylistic changes surfaced when Mr. B would ask his dancers to do steps quicker than they were typically executed. Part of the fun of dancing Balanchine ballets is applying these details and “flares” that are particular to his choreography and are part of what makes it unique from that of any other choreographer.

At the moment I am preparing for the iconic Theme and Variations. My first experience with Theme was when I was 15 years old; I was chosen to dance an excerpt from the role for the final show at the ABT Summer Intensive. Although it was just a tidbit of the ballet, the experience really stuck with me. A couple of years passed and I got to be a part of the ballet as a whole, dancing one of the corps spots in ABT’s productions. This time around, I have the honor of dancing the principal role alongside my wonderful partner Paulo Arrais.

In Theme, the female variations are very short, but what it lacks in length is made up for in speed. I feel that my heart already needs to be beating overtime just to make my muscles react with the urgency and briskness needed. At first I found the variations to be intimidating; almost like little packages of anxiety when the music played; your legs and feet required to move so fast—all the while making it look like it’s easy. But as with other parts, you work on it and the steps start to feel more natural—and then you are able to apply the quality—like putting icing on a cake.

Paulo Arrais and Ashley Ellis — Boston Ballet’s Ashley Ellis working on the pas de deux with Paulo Arrais. Photo by Lasha Khozashvilli

The second female variation goes directly into the pas de deux. This is difficult because you are so tired, but it almost doesn’t matter because the music is just so beautiful. I even remember the first time I heard the music during a show with ABT; when it began, my attention was immediately drawn to what was happening on the stage. There is something very unique about it.

I am not an expert on the Balanchine style, or his ballets. What I do know comes from what I have experienced while preparing for and dancing a selection of his wonderful works. His choreography demands a high level of technique and a strong sense of musicality. Both of these details are things that entice me. It is so much about the music, and in turn about the quality of how your execution of the steps embodies that music.

George Balanchine was one of the most influential choreographers of his time. He may even have been the most influential. I always find that I feel something special when dancing his ballets, and because of my long history with Theme, I know that performing this particular treasure will be very dear to me.

Boston Ballet presents Thrill of Contact, a striking program of precision and impressive athleticism featuring works by Balanchine, Robbins, Forsythe, and a world premiere by Principal Dancer, Jeffrey Cirio. It runs from May 14th – May 24th.

Contributing writer Ashley Ellis is a principal dancer at Boston Ballet. Ellis hails from Torrance, California and she received her dance training at the South Bay Ballet under the direction of Diane Lauridsen. Other instruction included Alicia Head, Mario Nugara, Charles Maple, and Kimberly Olmos.

She began her professional career with American Ballet Theatre’s Studio Company and later joined American Ballet Theatre as a company dancer. In 1999, Ellis won the first prize at the Los Angeles Music Center Spotlight Award, and went on to become the recipient of the Coca Cola scholarship award in 2000 and 2001. She has performed in Spain with Angel Corella’s touring group and joined Corella Ballet in 2008 as a soloist. In 2011, Ellis joined Boston Ballet as a second soloist. She was promoted to soloist in 2012 and principal dancer in 2013.

Her repertoire includes Marius Petipa’s The Sleeping Beauty; Mikko Nissinen’s The Nutcracker; Natalia Makarova’s La Bayadère; Marius Petipa’s Swan Lake; Christopher Wheeldon’s DGV: Danse à Grande Vitesse, VIII and Polyphonia; Harald Lander’s Études; Michel Fokine’s Les Sylphides; Rudolf Nureyev’s Don Quixote; Christopher Bruce’s Rooster; George Balanchine’s Serenade, Coppélia, Symphony in Three Movements, Symphony in C, and Tchaikovsky Pas de Deux; Clark Tippet’s Bruch Violin Concerto; Twyla Tharp’s In the Upper Room; Stanton Welch’s Clear; Angel Corella’s String Sextet; Wayne McGregor’s Chroma; Jorma Elo’s Awake Only; Jerome Robbins’ Fancy Free; Jiří Kylián’s Wings of Wax, Symphony of Psalms, and Petite Mort.

What is truth?

Reading the room

The “plan-n-scrap method”

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