"There are only two kinds of ballet: There is good ballet and bad ballet"

“There are only two kinds of ballet:There is good ballet and bad ballet.”— Sharon Tural

It was the sweltering days of mid-August. I arrived at the Jerusalem Ballet School in the late afternoon, immediately after the Jerusalem Ballet company had finished a long and arduous day of rehearsals that began in the early morning. They were preparing for the approaching premiere of a new creation called Kookl@. Many changes have taken place at the school and the company in recent years. Julia Schachal is the new director of the Jerusalem Ballet, and a special teacher recently joined to shoulder together with Nadya Timofeyeva this Jerusalem professional and artistic enterprise, and to co-direct artistically, hand in hand, both the company and the school. His figure and personality intrigued me, and so we sat down for a talk — he, Martin Schönberg, Nadya and I. I was interested in several issues concerning technique, method, and different viewpoints in the studio. I was curious about the art and craft of co‑production in the new creation and, in fact, about the whole life of someone who has dedicated his entire life to ballet — and of course I asked, how could I not, about the family name that reveals the roots (spoiler: he is a relative of the famous composer).

There are two perspectives in this studio. One is that of a long and rigorous Russian tradition that came out of the Vaganova school, and the other is a non‑Russian perspective. What ballet is taught today at the Jerusalem Ballet?

Martin: For me, there are only two kinds of ballet. There is good ballet and there is bad ballet. Of course there are different styles and nuances, and also different cultural interpretations, but it does not matter from which perspective one observes art: if it is good — it is good; if it is bad — it is bad. For me, it’s very simple. Over the course of my career I was fortunate to study with many teachers from various schools and diverse techniques. From each of them I adopted a method into my body as a dancer and formed an approach that combined a broad corporeal understanding — which I passed on, and still pass on, as a teacher to my many students over the years. Quite early on I was exposed to the Vaganova technique through my teacher in Monte Carlo, Marika Bessobrasova. She combined the Russian and French methods, and was very much école Française together with Ballets Russes. The person who taught me in Antwerp and also at the Zurich Opera House was Pappa Beriosov. He came from The Royal Danish Ballet School and worked in the Bournonville style. As befits this method, he emphasized lightness, airiness, elegance, and also used many turns and jumps. He made us jump like kangaroos. I became acquainted with the Cecchetti method through a teacher who taught me in South Africa, named Joy Cooper. His classes were very meticulous, and the goal was to turn us into technical and virtuosic dancers with a deep understanding of the theory behind the movement. Three additional teachers who taught me at The Royal Ballet of Flanders in Antwerp came from three different places and different schools: Stefan Schuller came from the RAD, and André Prokofiev was a famous teacher from the Bolshoi. André’s perspective was expansive; he did not settle for a single assemblé, nor for a single sissonne — the more, the better, in his view. The third was the Polish teacher Woytchek Lowski, who taught in pure Russian technique. He began his professional career as a dancer in Poland, later joined Maurice Béjart’s company, where he achieved great success. He also danced at ABT and even taught there as part of the American Ballet Theatre faculty. In the Antwerp company I also met Valery Panov. It was Galina Panov who “stole” Woytchek from ABT; thanks to her he moved to Antwerp, and thanks to her I had the privilege of studying with a teacher whom I consider a great master. Woytchek taught the entire company, but in rehearsals toward a performance he did not work with the corps de ballet, only with the soloists. On the morning of the beginning of the week he would come to me and say, “I thought of you over the weekend. Perhaps try this.” And so every Monday the ritual repeated itself: he gave me one nuance to correct and work on for the entire week, and I obsessively worked on what was required — both in class and on stage. Thanks to him I changed completely, and my understanding of the body, of movement, of technique, and of the connection between all these became more sophisticated, developed, and grew. He believed that one must work on the physical temple of each student in a way that suits only that individual, and therefore he provided each person with the remark that suited him or her, the nuance to examine, the unique precision, and the appropriate measure. Haute couture. In this sense, learning movement begins with the teacher’s accessible and clear explanation to the student, but also with the student’s responsibility to fulfill the demand, to refine it, and to preserve it. Every day throughout my career — both in ballet schools and in companies — I studied with these great masters who made me improve and obtain a sophisticated technique rather quickly. When you dance seriously day after day for years, with a whole set of nuances and emphases, there is no other way but to accumulate a great deal of experience and to build the body as a professional dancer.

Woytchek’s artistic and intellectual reading of ballet aesthetics, and the way he perceived the body’s aesthetics in ballet, were expressed in the following schema: the dancer’s legs from the knee down should be as American aesthetics demand; the shape and placement of the pelvis should be English; the arms and the chest area (the épaulement) should be Russian; and the overall chic should be French. This combined method, which should be instilled slowly and precisely, is also my way. I believe the days are over — as in Russia — when a single rigid method is demanded of a dancer at all costs. Even if there is no “perfect body,” that does not prevent a teacher from producing artists by a slow yet constant path. One must apply oneself, try, and search for the route appropriate to each student, because in the end technique should be the engine and not the obstacle on their way to becoming artists. Nadya came from the Bolshoi — from an old, strong, clear, and unified tradition of culture and specific discipline. I gathered from everywhere — and what we share is the final aesthetic that we see eye to eye. One battement tendu was enough for me to understand that we both love the same form and labor over the same beauty, even if the way to reach this aesthetic is different.

What did you see in Martin that made you understand you could work together?

photo: Leonid Khromchenko

Nadya: Martin came to the Jerusalem Ballet studio at the time when Yegor Menshikov created the choreography for the ballet “He Walked Through the Fields” for the company. Menshikov invited Martin to be rehearsal director and to help “clean” the choreography. I met a professional who amazed me — no less. Until he arrived, I thought I saw and identified everything that needed to be corrected in the dancers’ movement, in structure, in form, and in the skeleton. Meeting Martin made me realize that he absorbs more information per second than any teacher I had met before. He identifies, absorbs, and corrects in a way that is different from mine. I love intelligent people, and meeting him was for me an intellectual challenge. A whole university of knowledge arrived at my doorstep — into my school — since I have no time to go out to study and broaden my viewpoint, because I am in the studio more than 12 hours a day. In the past I carried the school and the company artistically on my back; now we are together. There is someone with whom to share, with whom to create, with whom to dream — and to realize. My learning through the difference in viewpoints takes place on different and varied levels: the French method for improving the feet is entirely different from what I knew. Although both methods aim for a similar result, the French explanation guides the movement through the demi‑pointe — the feeling is different, and the result is better. Another example concerns turnout and opening of the pelvis: according to the Russian method that preserves tradition, one must do everything to achieve the correct technique, and there is no flexibility in it; for example, the feet should be à la seconde at 90 degrees in each leg, with the hip joint turned outward. I myself was injured because of the rigidity of the method. Over the years I came to see that not everyone can perform this stance. When Martin arrived I encountered a teacher with an anatomical‑physiological understanding of the human body in general and the dancer’s body in particular. He has a very unique method to produce an open pelvis in turnout. In his view, the student will not place the leg at 90 degrees, but at the place where he or she is able to stand in turnout. After two years of this new approach, someone who began at 70 degrees came to stand in the desired position. This slow and thorough work is evident and pays off also with students whose ability is not complete and who will not reach the required maximum. Vaganova said that a good teacher is tested through the students who do not have perfect ability - through the students who challenge him. The application of all the information I acquired from Martin also takes place among my religious students, whom, naturally, only I teach. The change is huge: gradually, after two years, the angle of the feet changes and the pelvis opens. Addressing pelvic rotation among students occupied me through all the years. Now, through the tools I acquired from Martin, I am beginning to see fundamental changes - how pedagogy and the education of a new method bring about the desired results I aspired to in my years as a teacher.

I lived behind the “Iron Curtain” that existed between Russia and the rest of the world, and I was never given the opportunity to be exposed to other alternatives and to develop because of them. When students are taught from a young age in different methods with disciplinary variety, the teacher has many more tools to help the student improve, and the student benefits from this abundance.

Please expand a bit about the progress and improvement resulting from the pedagogical abundance and the diversity of disciplines you describe.

Martin: 

In this studio there are diverse points of view. I hurry slowly, and Nadya goes straight and at pace toward the goal. It is important to me that Nadya not change her ways, because these two paths, different from each other, together build dynamics of muscles, but also a cognitive ability to function in these two distinct ways. The dancer receives two points of view that stand side by side - they are not opposed; they complement one another. We agree on the important aspects, and the goal is to reach the same place - the direction is one: to create good ballet. The result of our cooperation is a win‑win situation. There are excellent schools in the world that are factories for the excellent company that stands beside them - such as Kirov, the Mariinsky, or the Bolshoi. At the Jerusalem Ballet we do not produce students to suit the particular repertoire of the company. Our goal is to teach them good ballet so that they can be quality and unique dancers wherever they choose - whether it be ballet, modern, or contemporary. Wherever they go, the teachers there will notice that they come from an excellent school.

Nadya created the Jerusalem Ballet with a niche and direction that are unique only to it — classical ballet with a Zionist and Israeli narrative - without a specific style that dominates the language of ballet. The style of the Jerusalem Ballet is free enough to create art on pointe and also without it. Let us take, for example, the new ballet that is about to premiere called Kookl@. The framing story deals with a meeting between Franz Kafka and a little girl in a park in Berlin who lost her doll; every day he brings her a letter from the doll from her travels around the world. But the work invites a delicate and deep journey - of a girl learning to process loss and of a lonely man discovering within himself a love for a child, perhaps for his inner child. The work proposes a world in which imagination is not an escape from reality but the path to it. In Kookl@ there are parts that raise a smile, and there are parts that cause the viewer to shift in discomfort. The accompanying music is not always classical - sometimes Michael Jackson and Saturday Night Fever are sources of inspiration. The audience that comes to watch the Jerusalem Ballet does not know what to expect, because each ballet is different - from a story about a Polish ballerina in the Holocaust to the main heroes from Moshe Shamir’s novel; from a plot of love full of passion and storm to Franz Kafka in the twilight of his life. What underlies the creation of the Jerusalem Ballet is the desire to touch the audience so that they are moved together with the dancer‑artists - not because of the technique displayed, but because of the emotional and theatrical experience they undergo. Sometimes the experience is uncomfortable, as in “Memento” and “Houdini,” but life is not comfortable. What matters is that before our eyes our dancers become very powerful as artists thanks to the depth they strive for emotionally. Nadya and I sometimes sit opposite them in rehearsals and shed a tear of emotion.

Tell me about the work process of Kookl@.

Martin: 

This is not the first time I have worked in co‑production, because I enjoy joint work and love to work in a team. The idea that I do not know what will be obtained at the end of the process opens up for me a whole playground. If I liken it to a kitchen: if I cook alone, I will know what the taste of the food will be at the end of the cooking; but if Nadya and I labor over delicacies in the kitchen together, and she adds her seasoning and the flavors she prefers, the product will be surprising — and perhaps tastier than I expected. When you create alone, it is very hard to innovate and to express yourself each time in a completely different way, because every artist has his or her fingerprint. It was important to us to maintain a high artistic and intellectual level in the process of creation. But that is the simpler and especially enjoyable part. The challenging part is when your colleague creates a fragment that causes you to feel discomfort. If the foundation between us is expressed in respect and appreciation for one another, and we practice giving space to each other, then the difference in viewpoints causes me, as an adult and as an artist, to go out beyond my boundaries and to experience materials that are foreign to me. Even if my idea changed completely at the end of the process of building the choreography, I gained from the joint learning and from broadening my choreographic viewpoint. Also for the audience, the collaborative process is worthwhile.

How does your collaboration work technically?

Martin: 

We divide the work between us so that each of us creates his or her own fragments alone, and in the studio the parts become a whole that we polish as a single unit. The skeleton of the work, composed of different parts - some mine and some Nadya’s - quite quickly undergoes a metamorphosis into a single creation. The separation between the different parts dissolves rather quickly, since these are the fragments of the Jerusalem Ballet. The polishing and refining of the entire work are carried out through hard work by both of us together until the creation takes on flesh and skin and becomes a complete and tight work.

Whose idea was it to build a dance based on a story about Franz Kafka?

Nadya: 

The idea for the subject of the dance was Martin’s; he also suggested that we work together. For me it is the first time I am creating jointly with another choreographer. Until now I worked entirely alone, from the stage of the idea for the creation to its execution. I did not have to consult with another person, nor to make a decision jointly. I think the basis for our shared success is that we agree to disagree. When this decision comes together with respect and patience, there is a good chance of success. In addition, even in places where I wrestle within myself and think that the part I created is not good enough, Martin allows me to be in that place and accepts it. For me this is an important, new, and meaningful place from which I grow. As an adult with a heavy responsibility on my shoulders and a desire to create good, high‑quality, deep, and innovative art, this process is not easy. The pressure to meet the tasks and goals set for me - and that I set for myself - is sometimes unbearable. Each time I feel that it is practically suicide to enter a new creative process, and each time I tell myself that this is the last time. Now I feel that the process is simpler, because the burden of building an entire ballet rests on both our shoulders together. If I do not succeed in creating something that is excellent, Martin will be there to renovate and refine, so that both of us will be satisfied with the result.

Martin: 

I prefer that my partner in creation tell me that the fragment I built is not good rather than reading that later in the reviews. Thus I can improve it together with a person I trust. Even if some creation is not successful, it is important to me that I feel I did my best — that I acted in an artistic field and did not rely on clichés and entertainment. To create requires great courage, since you start from zero — a whole complex of libretto and narrative, technique and movement language, soundtrack and lighting, set design and costumes. Parts of this complex of the new dance are external and foreign to me, because Nadya is drawn to other realms. But the depth and creativity, the precise connections with music, the design, and the language of dance are ours, and only the cooperation between us could have created this exciting and thrilling world. It was playtime for me — I visited the playground of my childhood through trial and error, mistake and success.

What is the dream for you?

Nadya: 

I came from a long tradition of the Bolshoi. For years I have been raising generations of students and generations of dancers with the goal of creating a tradition of ballet here in the country. Students travel to study and dance abroad because other places entice them and they think they are better than what is done here, but from my experience, although some reached the best schools in the world, many stop dancing after that experience. For girls, survival in the world of ballet is even much harder. I want to continue my mother’s dream — the Bolshoi prima ballerina Nina Timofeyeva — to build a ballet center with a heritage of quality, professionalism, and art here as an alternative to abroad for dancers in Israel. I feel that since Martin came to the Jerusalem Ballet studio I am closer than ever to realizing the dream. We know very well the disciplines of schools and companies around the world, and we apply them here in Jerusalem. Judaism is based on a long tradition, and it produces roots, stability, and dedication. I want to create that same positive force of tradition in ballet.

How is a tradition built in practice?

At the Jerusalem Ballet there is an opportunity to study professionally from the age of 13 — six times a week. Also the limited study track (twice a week) that opened this year can expand according to a student’s desire to add additional classes. Observing our graduate dancers who practice in the studio, or watching the end of a company rehearsal when the students arrive at the school, proves that it is possible - that tradition produces quality and professionalism within the school - and there is no need to go far abroad to become a professional dancer. The young students who come to the studio see the truth - in which hard work, adherence to the goal, and dedication are folded. They observe and see a dancer who gives all his energy, time, heart, and soul to art. These have been built as an inseparable part of who they are - of their personality and character. Just as the young students in the studio watch the seniors and gain a personal example, so too my own dream to be a dancer was woven. I lived within the walls of the Bolshoi, and as a child I watched Ludmila Semenyaka dance “The Sleeping Beauty,” and I wanted to be like her - like my mother, and like Ekaterina Maximova who was in the final stage of her career. I was fortunate that she was also my teacher. Tradition continued itself as I watched reality in its fullness. I feel that something real is happening here at the Jerusalem Ballet, when everyone works with full heart and soul — teachers, students, and dancers.

Is there also regret along this complex - formative - path?

Martin: 

I will tell you a story that will lead to an answer to your question. I had a Jewish teacher in South Africa — in fact I have known her all my life. Her name is Bernice Lloyd, and yesterday she celebrated her 88th birthday. Ballet from South Africa is known for its quality and recognized throughout the world. Many of the good and great teachers who came from there and teach around the world are Jews (see the article in Machol Achshav). I met Bernice at the funeral of a gracious teacher, also from South Africa, named Reina Berman. Reina trained under her dancers and teachers who are scattered everywhere across the globe. Many of them came to accompany her on her final journey. I stood next to Bernice, who whispered to me: “Look at them; do you know what they are thinking? They are not thinking about Reina - they are thinking about themselves, about the fact that they lost their teacher; they are wondering where they will study now and where they will send their children to learn.” They were not thinking about Reina on her final path, but about themselves.

If so, my great regret is tied to the fact that when I could have immigrated to Israel 12 years ago and done for my people, I hesitated. When my mother was in her twilight, I promised her that I would care for her until her last day - and so I did. When she left the world, I had no family left and I could do as I wished - I was free. I could have moved from Johannesburg to any place around the world and begun something new. I debated whether to teach in all those places where I had been a young dancer — whether in Monte Carlo, in Zurich, or in Antwerp. I moved to Cape Town, where I taught for an additional 12 years. I regret that instead I did not immigrate to Israel when I was 12 years younger than I am today.

Nadya: 

You did not make aliyah 12 years ago because I was not yet ready to receive you. I think God is wiser than both of us. I thought about it quite a bit — what would have happened if you had arrived earlier. I think I would not have been mature enough to accept you and contain you without losing myself along the way. I too was 12 years younger, and the Jerusalem Ballet was not in the place where it is now. My confidence today is thanks, among other things, to the outcomes I achieved over the years, and I proved to myself that I am capable of producing professional students, establishing a company, and creating. For me you arrived exactly on time.

Tell me about your family.

Martin: 

The fact that I was born into a Jewish family shaped my life. From my first memory I have been in a Jewish environment. From kindergarten I heard, like a mantra, “Next year in Jerusalem.” Judaism is part of who I am, of my existence, and of the shaping of my identity. To be a Jew means to be a Zionist. I am not talking about the practice of laying tefillin, being part of a minyan, or celebrating holidays, but about a much deeper, formative, existential experience. Already in 1972 I visited Israel and saw it, over the years, grow and develop; however, the level of classical ballet in the country was not at all similar to what I knew worldwide. In contrast, modern dance companies were very successful everywhere in the world. Many times I received offers to come to Israel and to develop my dance career here. Almost every vacation they offered me a contract, and I refused. Over the years I succeeded in training under me very many dancers who reached companies all over the world. Under the racist regime in South Africa I tried to help dancers of African origin to succeed, and indeed a principal in Washington Ballet whom I taught was an example of that. Twelve years ago I realized that at this point in time I wanted to do for my people. At the Jerusalem Ballet I found the place where I teach students who, as part of tradition, will become better dancers and pass on the knowledge as better teachers. For what is the purpose of our lives if not to share the knowledge we have accumulated with the next generation before our writing ends? I see this as of paramount importance.

You are both so Zionist.

Nadya:

I am surprised at being so Zionist, because unlike Martin’s stories it was difficult to be a Jew in the Russia of my childhood, and therefore Judaism did not find expression as part of daily practice. Perhaps my grandmother survived as a pianist and teacher at the Bolshoi because she married my grandfather, who was Russian. The triangle of my childhood was the home, the Bolshoi school, and the company. Israel was not on the agenda; we did not speak about it; there was no yearning as Martin described — like the sentence: “Next year in Jerusalem.” All this was true until the arrival of the letter inviting us to visit Israel. Immigration to Israel changed my life from end to end, and since then Israel is my country. I dedicated my life to Israel and to Jerusalem in particular; therefore many of the themes of the Jerusalem Ballet deal with subjects from Jewish heritage and from Israeli culture. It is important to me to promote the place where I live and to turn it into a better place - to add art and culture; to multiply beauty.

Martin:

The question surprises me. For me there is no difference between Jewishness and Israeliness. This separation is made by Israelis, since to live in the Diaspora of Israel is to live in Israel. When I was a child, I saved money from my birthday gifts all year in order to buy as many trees as possible to be planted in Israel. Over the years my family donated considerable sums to the State of Israel on a regular basis, with love and willingness, as an inseparable part of the commitment they felt toward her. Do I love Israel? At the moment the answer is negative, because the reality is terrible. But I dedicate my life to this place; I am Israeli in every part of me, because I was born so; and I do not intend to go anywhere else.

Continue telling me about your family.

I did not meet my grandfather, the brother of the famous composer Arnold Schönberg, because I was born in South Africa after his death. The two Schönberg brothers fled Vienna after the war. Arnold reached America, and my grandfather fled to South Africa. My grandfather opened a fur business that became iconic in South Africa of those times. The trauma that my family, as part of the Jews of Vienna, experienced in the Second World War - like all Jews - passed from generation to generation and turned them into anti‑social, introverted, and difficult people. Unfortunately, I grew up in a quarrelsome family, in which the relationships between the brothers were toxic; the men of the Schönberg family did not succeed in maintaining loving relationships. The anger at God who allowed the Holocaust and the atrocities went on growing and led to an abandonment of Judaism. Some turned to Scientology; some became absolute atheists. The glamour, the aura, and the pride around the family pedigree conceal within them a terrible trauma that bred much anger. In my mother’s family — the Ellenbogen family, which came from Germany - I saw similar processes: on the one hand, an intelligent, educated, and cultured family, and on the other, people who were completely neurotic. Both sides - the intelligence and the neurosis - fed one another.

I loved the course of my life and what I did and what I became. I had no desire, need, or longing to bask in my name or in being a scion of a distinguished family. I focused on the love of dance and invested in it - no one did the tendu for me. I did not need the glamour of Arnold Schönberg to feel worthy. Nevertheless, I greatly appreciate what he did under such great trauma and under the unfortunate circumstances of that period. His mentor was Gustav Mahler - whom I love very much - and in Kookl@ we use his beautiful music. People asked me why we are not using Schönberg’s music. Well - to me, that is a cliché, and I recoil from clichés. By the way, some of his music is, in my view, unlistenable. I too am a whole of the good things in my life and also of the bad things, and all these sides are mine and compose who I am.

Dr. Sharon Tural holds a PhD from the Hebrew University, an MA from the Jerusalem Academy of Music and Dance, and another MA from the Hebrew University. She lectures at the Jerusalem Academy of Music and Dance in the master’s program, lectures at the Israel Museum as part of “Friday at the Museum,” teaches at the “School of Music from the East,” and in private settings. Dancer and teacher. Former member of the Dance Council; currently a member of the Interdisciplinary Council at the Ministry of Culture.