Alexandre Volinine’s studio, not a very large one, was on the first floor of
a private dwelling at 132 avenue de Villiers. His mistress was Tamara
d’Erlanger, the wife of his secretary Théodore d’Erlanger and mother of Nora
Kiss. When his school was first established, neither mime nor character
dance were taught. The étoile Madeline Lafon became one of most assiduous
disciples.
By the time I came to study with Volinine, he was rather elderly, and
invariably taught seated, shewing the épaulements alone. Be that as it may,
never would he have stood to teach: he considered that the pupil must use
his head above all – so to speak! Alexandre Volinine made one sense all
movement; the entire body was to be at its full length, and breathe.
Rathern than apply muscular force, he wold have one rely on least action for
the greatest efficiency, and thus avoid burdening and clamping the muscles.
The breath was given by the music, one was to be “held aloft” by the music,
because first and foremost, Alexandre Volinine was extremely musical.
He would say, “It is music that tells one what is the dance, and even in
silence, one listens to the music within”. In a word, Alexandre Volinine
was the very incarnation of Théophile Gautier’s phrase, “dance, is music
that one sees”. And Volinine brought in excellent musicians to play for us,
like Pietro Galli.
On occasion, that same quality would occur with Serge Lifar, who might give
us an adage on a pizzicato passage – and it worked!
Alexandre Volinine’s class began with exercises that thoroughly warmed up
all the muscles, based on those that he had learnt with Anna Pavlova, whose
partner he was for many years. On tour with Pavlova, the pair would often
find themselves alighting from a train, for a performance that was to start
in a bare half-hour. Pavlova had thought up a barre that in a quarter of an
hour, got the entire body warmed up through sweeping movements, with cambrés
in every direction and particularly sidewards, and many movements with a
flexed foot. It was almost a pre-barre, but it a barre it was! And it
included every essential movement.
Every step that Volinine gave, was épaulé and when I say épaulé, I do mean
in the body, with effacement of the shoulder, not nervous tics of the head.
The dancer’s gaze is fundamental, and in épaulementi, it must be properly
focussed.
Volinine took care not to drain his pupils. If a certain exercise kept
tripping one up, he would give it twice or thrice, without, however,
hammering it home. He knew the mind needed time to work it through.
The very next day, he would give that exercise again, and one day, as though
out of the blue, we found ourselves soaring over the obstacle. He would say
“trust the body. It will solve the problem”. Alexandre Volinine gave
séries too, but they were quite unlike those of Carlotta Zambelli. He
wanted us to move, move into space! And so for example he would give big
diagonals with a great many arabesques and attitudes … He also gave séries
with pirouettes, especially from fifth, a marvellous exercise that puts
everything right back in place!
Rather than refer to placement as such, it was the dynamic of movement that
he wanted “outward-turned”. For example, the entire leg was to be turned
out fluidly rather than blocking the hip-joint to be sure one was “placed”,
before even thinking of turning the leg.
Volinine would give us exercises for the hands and arms like those the
Indian dancers do. The arm, he said, “is a silken shawl”. When the leading
arm is extended in arabesque, the dancer’s gaze must look far out over the
middle finger of the hand. As for the hand itself, he told us to study Fra
Angelico’s frescos at San Marco in Florence. Neither the hand, nor the
thumb, should ever poke out like a thorn. The hand of Fra Angelico’s
creatures, is the dancer’s hand.
Alexandre Volinine had a great love for his fellow man. He looked at one,
and one knew that one was loved. The pupil needs to find a teacher who will
love him! Never would he cry “Rotten! That was rotten! You’ll come to
nothing”. No. He would say “where there’s a Will, there’s a Way!” He
believed in us. He was a positive human being.
In the middle, he gave many grands adages and grands ports de bras, rather
less petite batterie. He loved jumping, the big jumps, and taught the women
almost all the men’s steps.
However, he would say that for the woman, ballon is like a ping-pong ball,
not a tennis ball. For example, in the action of the fouetté or of the
jump, he wanted a coup de talon – talonnage – (quick thrust from the heel –
editor’s note), and straight up into the air. For the woman, aware as he
was that our muscles must remain long and slender, he avoided an
over-powerful thrust into the floor. Frightfully heretical as this may
seem, he would often have us take the air with but the very lightest thrust
from the heel. In order to achieve the technical prowess we needed without
over-developing the muscles, the body was to be worked as a whole, with no
clenching, anywhere. There’s Modern Dance for you!
As for pointes, we would put them on at the barre. He taught the Italian
“little jump” (snatch) technique. I still prefer it because – as one sees
clearly with pirouettes –drawing the foot straight under the body is far
more efficient, than allowing the foot to shift away from the axis, a
deviation, however slight, that the body will have to “seek out” and set
right.
In our profession, there are three fundamentals: placement, technique and
The Dance. I would suggest that nowadays, we are very hot over placement,
and still hotter over technique, but The Dance has fallen by the wayside. I
beg to differ when someone tells me “Fear not. He’ll learn to dance later
on”! He won’t. A child must be allowed to dance, really dance, from the
very earliest years of training.
After class, Alexandre Volinine would make tea, and stay to chat. He always
had time for us. In conversation, he was ever more concerned with us, than
with himself. Nor was he a money-making machine. If a pupil had not the
means, he would teach him for free. He was very interested in music and
painting. It is from him – and from my mother, who was an excellent pianist
– that I got my love of music. I know all the operas by heart.
I did not frequent Alexandre Volinine’s studio to work on a role, but to
explore the fundamentals of movement.
Born in 1932, Liane Daydé joined the Paris Opera at fourteen, and was
appointed étoile at the age of nineteen. There she danced all the major
roles. In 1959, she joined the Ballets du Marquis de Cuevas, and from 1963,
pursued an international career. She set up her own school at Paris and
began to teach in 1979.
