No Nutcracker…

December 12, 2020 by 4dancers

Emma Love Suddarth dances Spanish in The Nutcracker — Emma Love Suddarth dancing Spanish in The Nutcracker. Photo by Angela Sterling

by Emma Love Suddarth

“Monday—it’s finally Monday,” I think to myself.

From the day after Thanksgiving until the end of December, Monday means it’s a day off from The Nutcracker at Pacific Northwest Ballet (and likely most all American ballet companies as well). For once I don’t have to hear the rolling melody of the Waltz of the Flowers or the sultry notes of the mysterious Arabian Divertissement echoing through every crevice of the theater… and my head. I don’t have to look at the row of multiple costumes lined up behind the “Love Suddarth” tag on the costume rack. I don’t have to smell the fumes of hairspray and arnica gel wafting through the dressing room.

I don’t have to think anything Nutcracker.

Finally, I have a spare afternoon to grab some groceries for the week and to tackle the lengthy list of Christmas gifts I want to give! Then the inevitable happens. I’m in a department store, or the grocery store, and The Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy comes twinkling over the loud speaker. “Aren’t they sick of this tune yet?” I think to myself irritably. Nope—just me, and a large number of fellow professional dancers out there. Through the month leading up to Christmas, ballet dancers live and breathe The Nutcracker—leaving the theater pretty much only to eat and sleep. Whether you love it or hate it, it’ll keep coming back every year.

Snow Scene, Nutcracker — Emma Love Suddarth waiting backstage. Photo by Lindsay Thomas

That is until now. The Nutcracker is commonly the first ballet most dancers ever performed starting as youngsters, and it’s the “old faithful” that as professionals we can expect to roll around and linger for a month every year; so now, here in 2020, what will the holiday season look like without it for the first time since childhood? I ask myself—will I miss it?

Nutcracker is the double-edged sword of ballets—its innate holiday spirit, its dependable routine-ness, and its opportunities for both new and revisited roles are juxtaposed against its trudging monotony, its physical toll, and its seemingly-endless run. The beginnings of Nutcracker rehearsals signal the beginning of the holiday season—that first snow scene rehearsal on the schedule means it’s finally permissible to play Christmas music on your radio. And, after only a couple weeks of preparation—as opposed to the month or so for a normal rep—it seems easy to fall right into the routine of matinee-evening-all-weekend that we dancers dwell in for December.

There is something comforting about knowing exactly what to expect for an upcoming performance week—or in this case the next six or so. When January comes, and we return to the schedule of a normal rep process it feels foreign. Somehow everyone is a little slower at picking up choreography because we’ve been executing the same steps on autopilot for the last month and a half straight. Then maybe, just maybe, we miss the dependability of knowing the matinee is a Snow/Marzipan show and the evening is Frau/Arabian—and it has been that way for years.

However, Nutcracker has a lot to offer to the growth of a dancer. It provides ample new stage opportunities for many dancers, and as the years go by, a chance to revisit certain roles over and over, digging deeper into them every time. The first ballet role I was ever cast in was “ginger cookie understudy” at the age of six. And, sure enough, I got my shot. One “cookie” got sick and gangly, pintsized Emma literally stepped into her shoes and got on stage. I took the ballet bait—I was hooked and have been dancing ever since.

Years later, as a new corps member with the Pacific Northwest Ballet, one of the first principal roles I had the opportunity to perform was the iconic peacock in Kent Stowell’s and Maurice Sendak’s Nutcracker. Clad in a colorful unitard complete with a weighty peacock tail, I was overwhelmed with the same excitement as that little cookie, even with the nerves about the dreaded arabesque turns at the end of the variation. And, revisiting it year after year until PNB moved to Balanchine’s version, I continued to discover new moments I could let the mysterious persona of my particular peacock shine through.

Thirty shows into the run of Nutcracker though, the story has shifted. It’s hard to focus on that extra little bit of sass for your Spanish principal and instead you can’t shake the thought of the dinner sitting at home waiting for you once Act II is finished. “Just push through it—it’s only a couple minutes,” you tiredly think to yourself. Achilles throbbing from the precise intricacies of the matinee’s Marzipan footwork and a continuous headache from one too many hairpins securing your headpiece, you can’t imagine making it through fifteen more shows. The “Nutcracker tired” has hit you like a train. When will it end?

Over the intermission between Act I and Act II, you discover a pile of letters at your dressing room spot. These notes are written by the children you’ve been sharing the stage with throughout the run. Some have questions about life as a professional dancer, and some just want to say hello, but most are hoping for one of your dead pointe shoes that they can hold onto as a keepsake.

The Nutcracker, Snow Scene — PNB’s Emma Love Suddarth, warming up for Snow in The Nutcracker. Photo by Lindsay Thomas

Later, you’re warming up for snow and a little mouse runs up from behind and hesitantly taps the edge of your tutu, “Thanks for the pointe shoe!” she blurts out excitedly before scurrying away. You barely get a chance to respond but you know the anxiousness because you’ve been there. There’s still a pair of Lauren Anderson pointe shoes in the closet of my old room at my folks’ house in Kansas—I know how special the gift of what I look at as just “smelly old shoes” is. I remember being that little mouse, and the uncontainable joy in every second that I got to skitter around the stage, and the overwhelming awe I felt at the holiday magic of THE NUTCRACKER. Somehow, after this momentary flashback, the spirited intro of the Spanish music brings a little holiday warmth to my heart, and my Achilles seems to hurt just a little bit less.

As someone who LOVES Christmas and all things surrounding the season, I think I resent Nutcracker each year on some level because I feel it robs me of my holiday entitlements. Christmas present shopping is rushed, decorating the house is squeezed in after a Sunday night show, and about five minutes into every holiday movie we turn on I am asleep. Why is my Christmas only the 25^th—really just a glorified Monday—and everyone else gets a whole season?

However, every single time as I walk out the backstage door after a show, I find myself running into little children dressed in their holiday best, holding tightly to their Nutcracker programs, leaping and twirling in the effort to recreate for their parents the magic they just watched up on the stage. This is my holiday spirit—more than the hot cocoa and twinkle lights.

So yes, maybe this year I will appreciate getting to take my time hanging ornaments, or actually see the end of almost every Christmas film, but it won’t be the same without those young faces both onstage and off, glittering with excitement and overcome with holiday magic. For the first time in my life, I find myself admitting I’m glad to know that Nutcracker will come back. And, just this year, when I hear the steady rhythm of Waltz of the Flowers in the middle of Target, a little holiday warmth will flood my heart and a tiny smirk will creep onto my face.

Join Pacific Northwest Ballet to stream George Balanchine’s The Nutcracker® with the unique-to-Seattle scenery and costumes by Ian Falconer and immerse yourself in a candy-filled dreamland. Dates, times, and ticket information are available here.

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.

On Love, Ballet, And Sleeping Beauty

February 2, 2019 by 4dancers

by Emma Love Suddarth

Emma LOVE? “Yeah I suppose it is a pretty great last name—thanks!” I can’t count the number of exclamations at the uniqueness of that last name. I can’t keep track of the number of love-themed gifts I received from secret santas over the years—not to mention the number of love-related puns I heard from friends, assuming they were the first. I never thought anything of it. It’s just a word after all, right? Saying goodbye to it as a last name five years ago (not to worry, it’s still there—just sandwiched as the middle now) made me think more on the word itself. As irony would have it, the very act of saying goodbye went hand-in-hand with the true weight of the word. It was an act of love.

More often than not, love is thought of through a fairytale-lens. Here at PNB we are currently deep in rehearsals for the iconic classic Sleeping Beauty—wicked fairies, sleeping kingdoms, flying nymphs, and one brave Price Florimund. It is only by true love’s kiss that he is able to defeat the wicked Carabosse and awaken the beautiful princess Aurora. Love is all-conquering. Even where the lovers might not “win”—Giselle, Swan Lake, Romeo and Juliet, to name a few—the love itself transpired effortlessly. According to many iconic movies, books, and songs, love is just a force that we are swept up into. It happens to us, whether or not we are truly aware.

sleeping beauty ballet — Pacific Northwest Ballet company dancers in Ronald Hynd’s The Sleeping Beauty, which PNB is presenting February 1 – 10, 2019. Photo © Angela Sterling.

Yes, love as an initial happening—i.e. “love at first sight”—may come about without direct intent. However, love in a deeper sense, as a continuous, ongoing force, is a decision. It requires participation. Think about anything you’ve ever loved. Pets? It might be hard to love them when they’re chewing up your favorite shoes or shredding your expensive new rug. But you choose to continue to. Ballet—or any other passion? It might be hard on those days when you just want to give up because you can’t execute a single step correctly. But you choose not to. A significant other? It might be hard when he or she makes you more frustrated than ever. But when you love that person in the fullest sense of the word—in a way that requires you as an active member—you continue to.

Along with the decision to continue something, comes the effort to maintain it. Relationships require work; passions require work; love requires work. For love to have moments of effortlessness, effort must be put in. Oxymoron much? One tangible metaphor to illustrate this idea is in ballet itself. As a dancer, think about the most special moments you’ve had on stage. I’ll speak candidly from a personal experience as the Siren in George Balanchine’s Prodigal Son. In one of the more iconic moments, slowly rising from seated atop the head of my coworker Matt—the son—to standing against the front of his shins, my feet not even touching the floor, I felt love; love of the character, love of the story, love of the music, love of ballet. That love felt effortless. However, thinking back on the process, the love wasn’t always natural. There was the constant pain of a golf ball-sized blister encompassing my entire heel. There were the numerous tears from rehearsals that felt like flops. There was the sheer exhaustion from hours and weeks of intense repetition. There was a continuous trail of blood, sweat, and tears that led to that point. When people say, “love is not easy,” I believe this is what they mean. More often than not, some of our most cherished moments experience a similar journey. That’s what makes them worth it. That’s what makes them precious.

Ultimately, we must allow for love. One of my favorite ideas about love comes from a C.S. Lewis quote, and addresses this very thought: “To love at all is to be vulnerable.” While it might seem initially defeating, vulnerability does not have to be a negative. Asking us to be vulnerable means asking us to be open—to be whole-hearted participants. In loving a person, we are opening ourselves up by placing our hearts in their hands, allowing them to play an equal part in the journey of that relationship. In loving a passion, we are opening ourselves up to critique and frustration, because through those can we learn to experience it at a deeper level and find greater appreciation for it. This “vulnerability” lays the foundation for growth, for depth, for richer love.

Watching PNB tackle ten intense studio runs of Sleeping Beauty this week brought many different forms of love to light. None of them were without intention. I watched ballet masters praise tired dancers at the end of the week for a job well done. I saw Auroras push through nerves, pain, even illness. I watched boyfriends and husbands pass snacks to their exhausted fairy-friend-nymph-etc. at every five-minute break. No, love is not easy. But it’s certainly beautiful.

And it’s certainly worth it.

See Pacific Northwest Ballet perform The Sleeping Beauty! Performances run from February 1st to February 10th.

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

“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.

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

Curry: A Truly British Dish!

August 3, 2017 by 4dancers

English Curry Meal — Curry with spiralized zucchini noodles (bottom left), and curry with white rice (upper right)

by Jessika Anspach McEliece

It’s funny to look back and remember what you were up to a year ago…

This time last year my husband and I were in the chaotic process of preparing for a very big move. Having retired from a 12-year career with the Pacific Northwest Ballet, we were saying goodbye to Seattle and hello to Winchester, England for a study abroad. And as Seattleites, we thought we’d be saying goodbye to a lot more than just our careers, friends and families…

The home of not only Starbucks or fish-tossing in Pike’s Place Market, Seattle has become quite a culinary crib, with artisan coffee shops and foodie-approved restaurants filling every borough. It’s also a cultural melting pot with a vast array of peoples and ethnicities, all sharing their traditions through the foods they cook. Needless to say we’d become spoiled by farm-to-table meals at hipster haunts or the fast, delicious and accessible Thai take-out that had become a post-performance dinner staple. There’s nothing like a big bowl of spaghetti squash and Green Curry…

And with every conversation we had regarding our impending British transplant, hearing people sarcastically say, “England? I hear the food’s great there…” we prepared our taste-buds and tummies for a year of bland and blah. Thankfully we’ve discovered the stereotype’s all wrong. From the perfect pour-over to lovely latte-art; from buttery pork belly to fish and chips that are a revelation, we’ve struggled to have anything bad here. Seattle doesn’t feel so far away after all…

But there is one culinary custom that’s taken us quite by surprise… Curry.

As quintessentially English as a Sunday Roast, the Brits take their curry very seriously. And it’s seriously good, with so many different varieties I’d never even heard of, let alone tasted. But the most astonishing part is that many make this meal at home. And it actually tastes like a curry from a proper Indian restaurant—take-away not required!

Our neighbor Bill shared with us the secret: Camelia Panjabi’s 50 great curries of India. And from the grease and dried food splatters on nearly every page of his well-loved copy it’s clear that there’s not a bad recipe in this book. A truth we ourselves can attest to.

Another reason to love curry, aside from it being incredibly delicious, is that it’s loaded with powerhouse ingredients, from healthy fats found in coconut oil and ghee, to Ayurvedic and anti-inflammatory herbs and spices that are the flavorful backbone of nearly every recipe. Perfect food for those tired legs and swollen feet.

And you’d be surprised how accessible and easy the recipes are… Practically all of the ingredients and spices I already had in my pantry (and use regularly) or can be found at the grocery store, ethnic market, or on Amazon.

So without further adieu here’s our slightly adapted version (it’s milder – my husband Ryan can’t tolerate heat) of Camelia’s recipe for a basic, no-frills, ALL FLAVOR, curry.

Simple Homestyle Curry

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Emma’s “Summer Bowl” Recipe – Peach & Beet Salad

July 12, 2017 by 4dancers

by Emma Love Suddarth

Summer… a break… rest. For almost every professional dancer in the United States, summertime means layoff—a time to trade in the pointe shoes for flip-flops (or sneakers, if you’re smart) and let the body rest, recuperate, and repair. How dancers choose to fill this time varies greatly. For some, it is an opportunity to travel the world—hike the trails, bike the cities, or seek out the foreign places that the scattered weeks here or there throughout the season wouldn’t allow for. For others, it’s a special time to visit family—having missed so many holidays (must The Nutcracker fall on Christmas every year?), the annual summertime family vacation may be the one tradition a dancer is able to attend consistently. Or, maybe it is the rare chance to sit on the couch, lay back with feet up, and set Netflix on play. Regardless of how, it’s an opportunity to indulge where one can and enjoy what one might.

For Price and me, family and food are two things we feel strongly about. Our kitchen is the most frequented space in the house, and the refrigerator is covered entirely by pictures of Suddarths and Loves. Put the two together, and you’ll find us trying to decide what to cook or where to eat when visiting those we love. Last summer, while in Indiana with our Suddarth side, we discovered a fresh spot to test out—a new pizza place, Napolese Pizzeria, marked by local ingredients and seasonal varieties. The menu was distinctive and delectable—one pizza contained squash, feta, brussels sprouts, and a balsamic drizzle, and another with kale, pineapple, roasted peppers, and provolone. As avid cooks ourselves, we often love to recreate our favorite meals that we happen upon when dining out, occasionally adding little tidbits of our own “flavor.” That evening, leaving Napolese both satiated and satisfied, we had a handful of new projects for our kitchen. There was one course in particular that topped the list—a salad that seemed to capture summer in a bowl. Sweet, slightly charred yellow corn. Vibrant, impeccably roasted purple beets. Juicy, perfectly ripened fuzzy peaches. Can’t you just feel the warmth of the summer sunshine already?

This recipe has traveled the country. It’s been family-and-friend-tested, and earned a spot on our regular rotation whenever peach season strikes. And, lucky for us, it seems it’s just about that time.

Prepping the peaches. Photo by Emma Love Suddarth

Beet, Peach, and Corn Salad with a Smoky Tomato Vinaigrette

(serves approximately 2)

Ingredients

Smoky tomato vinaigrette (makes enough for multiple salads):

10 oz cherry/grape tomatoes
2 cloves garlic
2 tsp Dijon mustard
1 tsp Worcestershire sauce
2 tbs olive oil
2 tbs balsamic vinegar
1 tbs water
salt and pepper

5 oz greens (such as butter, boston, or bibb lettuce) or shredded cabbage

2 peaches, sliced

2 beets, sliced

1 ear sweet corn

feta, crumbled

Instructions

To make the vinaigrette:

Preheat a large pan or cast-iron skillet over medium-high heat. Once heated through, drizzle a little olive oil and swirl to coat the pan. Add tomatoes. Cover and let cook for 10 minutes, stirring once halfway through. Leaving the pan covered, remove from heat and let sit for 30 minutes.
Into a large food processor, add tomatoes, garlic, Dijon, Worcestershire, olive oil, vinegar, and water. Blend to combine. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Can be refrigerated. Set out and let it come to room temperature to serve.

For the salad:

Preheat oven to 400° Cut any top off beets and scrub thoroughly. Wrap beets loosely in tin foil and roast in the oven for 50-60 minutes, or until easily pierced with a fork or skewer. Remove from the oven, let cool, and remove skin (should be easily rubbed off using a paper towel).
Preheat grill or grill pan on medium-high heat. Remove corn from husk and place directly onto grill. Rotate ear of corn every 2-3 minutes, until each side is slightly charred and evenly grilled. Remove corn from cob.
To assemble, toss greens/cabbage with smoky tomato vinaigrette until evenly distributed. Then add peaches, beets, corn, and feta. Add additional dressing as needed. Serve.

You can bet we’ll be back to Napolese again this year, doubtless departing with both stomachs and minds filled with scrumptious new ideas…

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

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Simple Homestyle Curry

Beet, Peach, and Corn Salad with a Smoky Tomato Vinaigrette

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