"And the Curtain Lifted"
“Kids, I shouldn’t see space between your knees in first position. Before you plié, the insides of your legs should be glued together, like a single leg.” It’s Ms. Michele’s first correction of the day to the 15 or so of us teenagers lined up at the barre in a nondescript ballet studio in a nondescript warehouse in Acworth, GA. Her words are spoken after she gives us a plié combination, which is the first exercise of a ballet class and involves slow bends of the knees and arms to begin warmup. Each of us stand facing her, one hand at the barre, our feet turned out from our hips in the effort to achieve the 180-degree line, toe-to-toe, that is known in the ballet world as “first position.” We arch our backs and extend our fingers and point our toes in simple shapes, in preparation for the more extreme movements that will come later.It is a day early in the fall – perhaps sometime in September -- and this far south, still warm enough for the garage door that comprises the back wall to be open to the outdoors. It’s beautiful out, warm and bright and breezy. Birds sing nearby, and the air is fresh with the scent of autumn. The late afternoon sunlight streams into the studio, heating our backs and casting all of us dancers in silhouette. “I like having the door open,” Ms. Michele comments from her perch at the front of the room, where she sits facing us, the wall of mirrors at her back. She’s wearing an elegant blouse, a long necklace, dangling earrings, athletic pants that reveal her own slender ballerina legs, and a part of soft, well-worn black jazz shoes. “I can tell your legs aren’t straight when I see daylight between them. Then she looks at me. “Ems, your legs were straight. I didn’t see any light,” she says. I look into the mirror -- at my own adolescent body, clothed in a teal leotard and pink tights; my dark hair pulled away from my face; my legs pressed together all the way from my inner thighs to my heels -- and I feel a warm glow of happiness because I value her approval more highly than that of almost anyone else and have for as long as I’ve known her. ..
I met Ms. Michele, as she has always been to me, when I was eight years old. She was the Executive Director of the school where I had just begun to take classes, and she came in and started teaching my level halfway through my first year. I was a little bit terrified of her at first. I didn’t really know what an “Executive Director” was, but I did know that she was somehow important; and even at such a young age, I was awed by her natural elegance and poise. When she came up to me the first day, knelt by my side, and started shaping my feet with her hands, I froze and stared down at her in confusion. She looked up at me with a smile and said, “Well, go on!”
It didn’t take long for my initial fear to evolve into the enormous respect I have for Ms. Michele. Throughout the 10 years that I’ve known her, I have been impressed again and again by her unceasing grace and kindness in the most difficult of situations. I count myself fortunate to know her as well and for as long as I have, and she has without a doubt been one of the greatest influences on my life.
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| at age four |
She herself started dancing when she was three or four on the recommendation of her pediatrician because she was so painfully shy. After those first few classes, there was no turning back -- “From that time on,” she said, “I considered myself a dancer.” Although she didn’t train for long, she didn’t stop dancing. She practiced on her own the steps she had learned and even asked her playmates who did take classes to teach her. When she was 13, she was diagnosed with scoliosis and started taking dance lessons again, although not, she admits, at a very intensive level. She studied tap along with ballet and took much easier to the former rather than the latter, but she tells me that she remembers thinking: “I like ballet because it’s harder.”
This passion for the art and willingness to do the work would follow her throughout her life. In a world where most professionals are training seriously before they reach high school, she did not do so until her senior year, when she began taking classes under Richard Ellis and Christine DuBoulay, both former dancers at the Sadler’s Wells Ballet (later the world-renowned Royal Ballet in London). After graduation, she was accepted to the University of Cincinnati and continued her study there. In college, she experienced for the first time the inherent negativity and competition of the ballet world. In the past, ballet had always been a source of joy; but she says she was often quite miserable that year as she dealt with feelings of insufficiency, insecurity, and doubt. Through it all, though, it doesn’t sound like her passion for the artform ever wavered. She told me that she would often come home frustrated and in tears, and her father would ask her why she was crying. Her response: “because I love it so much!”
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| as a student, 1982 |
Eventually, her hard work paid off. After a year at U of C, Ms. Michele moved, first to Philadelphia to train at the school of the Pennsylvania Ballet, and then to Iowa to apprentice for Des Moines Ballet. When I asked her what she considered her greatest accomplishments, she said that obviously, this first paid job was one of them. But she hastened to add that conceiving of a goal and then reaching it is strictly peripheral to the bigger picture. It’s the old adage that “life is about the journey, not the destination” – and, Ms. Michele reminded me, about finding “lovely little things along the way.”
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| dancing "Spanish" in CT, 1992 |
After her first season in Des Moines, she was forced to take a break from dancing by the presence of an extra bone in her ankle. When I mentioned in our interview that that must have been a difficult setback, she agreed – but only partially. Never one to turn down a teaching opportunity, she reminded me that “the real obstacle is our own thinking – fear, regret, blame.” And in hindsight, she doesn’t have a single regret for the seven-year hiatus, because it enabled her to go back to school to study business. It was also during those years that she discovered the joy of teaching; she even founded a dance program at a local school and expanded it to include close to 130 students. She was living in Connecticut at the time, and still performed occasionally in local productions, but not as a contracted company member.
In 1995, Ms. Michele moved to Georgia, and early the next year, she was contracted by The Georgia Ballet, a small school and company founded by Ms. Iris Hensley in Marietta. Ms. Iris had traveled throughout Europe after graduating from the University of Georgia; in 1957, she returned to Georgia to found the Georgia Ballet1. When Ms. Michele came to Marietta, she found the Georgia Ballet to be a “wonderful and glorious institution…a very professional organization with a warm family environment.”2 Ms. Iris had a deep dedication and passion for the art form – the same dedication and passion I see in Ms. Michele – and it shone through in the organization she built. Not long after Ms. Michele joined the company, Ms. Iris asked her to become the Director of the school.
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| in "Swan Lake" at the Georgia Ballet |
It was during those years dancing and teaching under Ms. Iris that Ms. Michele said she had some of her greatest onstage experiences. She told me that she often felt too pressured and nervous during a performance to truly enjoy it, and so her best moments occurred in the classroom, where she felt the freedom to be herself and take risks. However, when I asked about her favorite performance memories, the ballets she named were all danced at the Georgia Ballet. She mentioned I Never Saw Another Butterfly, choreographed by Ms. Iris and based on a collection of Holocaust writing of the same name. Another favorite was Ms. Iris’ staging of the world-famous classic Swan Lake, where she played the role of a big swan. One moment stood out to her in particular, towards the end of ballet; she recalled facing the back of the stage, her face hidden from the audience, with tears streaming down her face as Tchaikovsky’s remarkable score reached its most glorious and poignant climax. After she decided to retire permanently, Ms. Iris convinced her to dance one final ballet – the title role in the latter’s Mary Poppins.
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| in "Mary Poppins," 2003 |
In 1997, the Georgia Ballet received two additions to the staff: Ms. Gina Hyatt-Mazon and her husband, Mr. Janusz Mazon. Both were renowned dancers at the Hamburg Ballet in Germany. They came to the United States to raise their daughter Emilie, and found themselves at a small ballet school and company in Marietta, Ga. When Ms. Iris passed from cancer in 2003, she was succeeded, per her request, by Ms. Gina as Artistic Director and Ms. Michele as Executive Director.
Under their combined leadership, the organization experienced a dramatic increase in quality and size.3Cynthia Perry remarked for the Atlanta Journal-Constitution upon the “remarkably high” level of technique and artistry possessed by the dancers.4 In keeping with Ms. Iris’ vision and passion, Mr. Gina and Ms. Michele nurtured a warm, caring environment at the Georgia Ballet. They even instituted an outreach program called DanceAbility, which gave disabled children in the community the opportunity to experience ballet. The organization touched the lives of many – one company member said, “they’ve [Ms. Gina and Mr. Janusz] shaped my dancing, my work ethic, and everything…they have played a huge part in my life.”5At the Georgia Ballet, Ms. Gina and Ms. Michele cultivated a sense of belonging and a deep respect for the art form that I myself experienced firsthand. It was there that I encountered ballet for the first time, and even at eight years old I was impressed and awed by how seriously Ms. Michele took our training.
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| with students of the Georgia Ballet, 2006 |
In 2012, Ms. Gina and Mr. Janusz made the difficult decision to return home to Germany. It was the right choice for them both personally and professionally, but it left the precious organization that they had helped to build in disarray. The final performance under their leadership was a production of the legendary choreographer George Balanchine’s Serenade-- one of the most beautiful and emotionally impactful ballets ever to be created.
The curtain of Serenade rises on 17 female dancers spread in a series of diagonals across the stage, simply attired in long, diaphanous blue dresses against a plain blue backdrop, their right hands raised as if to shield their faces from a light in the upstage corner. Tchaikovsky’s glorious score swells, solemn and joyful, and the dancers begin to move. Slowly at first, and in perfect unison, their hands descend first to their foreheads, and then to en bas– the most elementary position in all of ballet. And then the music crests, and as one, they spring into motion, the entire stage brought to life by the sound. In no other ballet is the relationship between the dance and the music so inseparable. It’s as if each one flows from and through the other. From the initial note of the magnificent score, the viewer is transported into a drama of human emotions – love, loss, joy, sorrow – all made tangible on stage through the sheer genius of the score and the choreography. I remember sitting backstage for that memorable performance (I had a small role in the latter part of the program) and the awe and wonder I felt as I watched has stayed with me to this day.
Perhaps the most remarkable thing about Serenade is the way in which it brings to life the most fundamental human emotions and makes them real, not through story or costume or set, but through the poignancy and pathos of the dance. The ballet has no ostensible plot; the story it tells emerges from the entanglement of music and the movement, and the viewers are left to work out the details for themselves. It’s a microcosm of ballet in itself as it takes both performer and viewer on a journey that goes beyond any one dancer or dance. Serenade is the ballet that encompasses all other ballets; the beauty and emotion it evokes is dance in its purest, most unadulterated form. It’s a revelation for the audience, not of the external world around us, but of ourselves. In an article for Pointe Magazine, Maria Calegari, a répétiteur and former dancer says, “Mr. Balanchine loved passion, and part of movement was passion to him.”6It’s this same passion that Ms. Michele exhibits with every word and gesture.
It was what made every class that she taught so unique and enjoyable. As class progressed and the movements became more complicated, Ms. Michele often demonstrated herself, and I would strive to imitate her graceful carriage, the delicate shapes of her fingers, the precise tilt of her head. Sometimes, she went very slowly, perfecting the minutia of each shape before we could move on to the next; other times she gave us intricate exercises with numerous steps and rotations linking into one long, graceful dance; but never did we perform the steps by rote. She gave quality to even the most elementary of exercises, and she pulled and prodded until we were able to give them quality too. Her classes had a sense of energy, grace, and movement that brought the dancing alive for me. I often danced my best in her class because I was able to let go of my concentration on how to perfectly perform every step, and dance for the pure enjoyment of it. She is one of the few people I have encountered in my own journey in the ballet world who brings the magic of a ballet like Serenade into the classroom. Through it all, her enormous respect and love for the artform were always in evidence, and she demanded the same from all of us.
Sadly, the Georgia Ballet, which Ms. Iris and then later Ms. Michele and Ms. Gina had so labored to build, crumbled after the latter left. The board and faculty fell out over Ms. Gina’s successor, and the result was that Ms. Michele was, without ceremony or warning, removed from her position at the organization to which she had dedicated the last 17 years of her life.
Her loss was a massive blow to all of us and caused an exodus of dancers, faculty, and students, myself included. I remember well the pain and sorrow caused by that sudden departure, and I can only imagine the heartache that it caused Ms. Michele. But when I asked her about what must certainly have been a dark period in her life, she remained philosophical. She said that at the Georgia Ballet, she was constantly obsessed with being right. “That kind of obsession is never healthy,” she said, and reminded me again of the dangers of comparison. “We built something good there,” she continued, “but there was a lot of pride involved.”
Of course, such a radical transition couldn’t have been easy, but Ms. Michele told me again that she doesn’t have any regrets. “You just have to trust what’s happening,” she said, and then characteristically, she turned the conversation away from herself and into a lesson for my own struggling, insecure self. “There is a purpose to everything. “Life is like a GPS system -- there’s a destination where you’re supposed to be, and life is going to get you there. You just have to trust it and enjoy the journey rather than getting attached to a specific outcome.”
After leaving the Georgia Ballet, Ms. Michele spent the next few years teaching at a small studio in Acworth, GA, where I was fortunate enough to continue training with her. I will cherish the memories of those hours I spent in the studio with her, learning not just about ballet, but about life and the world and myself, for the rest of my days.
When she answered my FaceTime call for our interview, the first thing she asked me was “What lovely little thing happened to you yesterday?” Despite the medium of communication, her voice and her face were crystal clear; it’s like she was right there sitting with me. So I told her about my day, first about getting coffee with friends, and then about straining a muscle in ballet class the night before. Characteristically, she hastened to offer help and advice. “Usually when something like that happens,” she said, “it’s our body’s message that it needs something. Can you think about what your body is trying to tell you?” Even though we were separated by hundreds of miles, only able to communicate through screens, her voice sounded exactly the same as it has for the ten years I’ve known her.
As our conversation progressed and I went into further detail about the injury, she told me again and again, that it wasn’t random, that our bodies tell us what we need. “What is it you need right now?” she asked. She looked effortlessly classy, as always – short dark hair stylishly coiffed, earrings dangling from her ears, a pendant necklace, a light blue top, and a dark blue cardigan. Her skin glowed even through the camera lens, and she held a pen in one hand, which she occasionally rested against her chin.
I’m sure she could tell that I was discouraged about the injury – I could see it myself, in the tone of my voice, the wrinkle between my eyebrows, the downward slant of my mouth. “Trust what’s happening,” she reminded me, over and over, “and leave the rest to God.” I mentioned the bad timing, and she smiled a little at that. “It is what it is, and it’s good,” she said, It’ll all work out.” Even though I have no doubt that my own disappointment is palpable when we discuss the injury, she remains positive and encouraging throughout. She doesn’t stop smiling.
I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised when she was right. I had to take a week off of dancing, but I needed it more than I knew, mentally as much as physically. And after a few visits to the chiropractor, my back was fine.
This whole conversation happened before the formal interview had even begun. Later, when I asked her if she had any regrets, she returned to the injury. “I believe in purpose,” she told me, “Whether it’s God or the universe or something Else, it isn’t random. Even something like this,” referring to my back injury, “happens for a reason.” It goes back to her original question: “what little, lovely thing happened to you yesterday?” Life, for her, is not about achieving an outcome; it’s about what happens along the way. “You get to set your own outcome,” she told me. She was eloquent and articulate as she spoke, never once resorting to a “like” or an “um.” Occasionally, she paused to collect her thoughts, and then I marveled at the fluidity and insight that followed. Throughout the interview, she exuded an elegance and a kindness that I’ve rarely encountered in anyone else and a graciousness that is impossible to miss.
I’ve had cause to wonder many times through my years of knowing Ms. Michele – where did it come from? How did she learn to look at life the way she does, with such warmth and love, to move through it with such grace? It turned out that she herself would answer the question for me, only a few minutes into our interview. After we had chitchatted for a few minutes, Ms. Michele said that to start the interview, she wanted to answer one question in particular from the list I sent her: “What is ballet to you?” “They say that if you learned everything there was to learn about a knothole in a piece of wood, you would learn everything there is to learn about the world,” she told me. “To me, that’s ballet. I am neither a dancer or a teacher; I am a student, and ballet is my teacher.”
In 2017, a year after I left Georgia to train out of state, Ms. Michele decided to stop teaching; by then, she was bookkeeping at a marketing agency and had started her own e-commerce business. But I don’t think that her love for ballet has waned. I asked her what she thinks the future holds, and if it involves ballet. Her answer: “I’m not sure, but I’m not going to worry about it.” It’s the same thing she said earlier in the interview when I asked about her fears and worries. “Of course everyone worries,” she told me, “but there’s no use in dwelling on it. Focus on the present; come back to right now. Have faith that we’ll get where we’re going – remember the GPS system.” It’s the same philosophy that she repeated time and time again throughout the interview, with no better illustration than the story of her own life. From the day she said she liked ballet better “because it was harder,” her passion has always been not the outcome, but the work that goes into it. She says that ballet has been her teacher, and I say that it has taught her well.
I asked her to summarize what she has learned in her life so far, and her answer, in short, was everything. “You just have to trust what’s happening, and have faith that it’s happening for a reason,” she said, over and over again. “You have to live for right now – not for the past or the future – because the present is all we have. You can’t have any regrets. You have to remember that there is wisdom in everything.” Later, after the interview is over, she sends me a text saying the same thing. “There is genius and wisdom and many stories inside you – try not to block your innate wisdom with worry and fear…observe, learn and train yourself to understand –why people are the way they are. Why things are the way they are. It is the same reason why you are the way you are.”
It’s ironic that Ms. Michele characterizes herself above all else as a student, when I’ve always seen her primarily as a teacher. When I first met her, she taught me ballet technique, but in the years since I’ve learned far more important lessons about myself and the world. The wealth of knowledge, love, and wisdom that she says ballet taught her is apparent in every word she speaks. She has chosen to learn something from every experience in her life, both obstacles and accomplishments, and to make them into something beautiful. Now she can’t not pass it on. Her greatest advice for young people, she said, is to look for mentors – “people with a deep love who express it in a loving way” – and I wonder if she knows that she has been that for me and more.
..
By the time we reach the end of class, I am sweaty and exhausted. Ms. Michele isn’t afraid to push us – often, she gives combinations that are more complicated than we are accustomed to -- and when class is over I am tired and yet invigorated. I don’t want it to be over. The sun has set behind us, the sky is dark, and the crickets and cicadas are singing loudly. The temperature has dropped, but we are warm from the dancing, and the night breeze is soothing on our backs. We close the garage door to escape the moths and mosquitos. It descends with loud creaks and groans. And then we gather around our teacher and say “thank you” individually, as is the tradition in ballet classes the world over. Thank you for instructing me; thank you for your time. Thank you for the wisdom you shared and continue to share that goes so far beyond ballet. Thank you more times than I will ever be able to put into words.
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| with myself, 2017 |
1. Kay Powell, “Obituaries: Marietta: Iris Hensley, Founded Georgia Ballet Company,” The Atlanta Journal-Constitution(2003), login.proxy.kennesaw.edu/login?url=http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=edsggo&AN=edsgcl.107145055&site=eds-live&scope=site.
2. Powell, “Obituaries.”
3. Steve Sucato, “The Georgia Ballet,” Pointe7, no. 2 (April 2006): 32, http://search.ebscohost.com.proxy.kennesaw.edu/login.aspx?direct=true&db=ulh&AN=20336510&site=eds-live&scope=site.
4. Cynthia Perry, “DANCE: ‘Serenade’ Is Swan Song: Couple Leave Georgia Ballet at Season’s End. Artistic Leaders Will Leave for Hamburg Ballet,” The Atlanta Journal-Constitution(2012),http://search.ebscohost.com.proxy.kennesaw.edu/login.aspx?direct=true&db=edsggo&AN=edsgcl.305348974&site=eds-live&scope=site.
6. Lisa Rinehart, “Secrets of Serenade,” Dance Magazine 84, no. 9 (September 2010): 38, http://search.ebscohost.com.proxy.kennesaw.edu/login.aspx?direct=true&db=ibh&AN=53067253&site=eds-live&scope=site.
Bibliography
All images provided courtesy of Michele Ziemann-Devos.
Perry, Cynthia Bond. “DANCE: ‘Serenade’ Is Swan Song: Couple Leave Georgia Ballet at Season’s End. Artistic Leaders Will Leave for Hamburg Ballet.” The Atlanta Journal-Constitution (Atlanta, GA), 2012. http://search.ebscohost.com.proxy.kennesaw.edu/login.aspx?direct=true&db=edsggo&AN=edsgcl.305348974&site=eds-live&scope=site.
Powell, Kay. “Obituaries: Marietta: Iris Hensley, Founded Georgia Ballet Company.” The Atlanta Journal-Constitution (Atlanta, GA), 2003. http://search.ebscohost.com.proxy.kennesaw.edu/login.aspx?direct=true&db=edsggo&AN=edsgcl.107145055&site=eds-live&scope=site.
Rinehart, Lisa. “Secrets of Serenade.” Dance Magazine 84, no. 9 (September 2010): 38–40. http://search.ebscohost.com.proxy.kennesaw.edu/login.aspx?direct=true&db=ibh&AN=53067253&site=eds-live&scope=site.
Sucato, Steve. “The Georgia Ballet.” Pointe 7, no. 2 (April 2006): 32. http://search.ebscohost.com.proxy.kennesaw.edu/login.aspx?direct=true&db=ulh&AN=20336510&site=eds-live&scope=site.
Ziemann-Devos, Michele. Interviewed by Emma Ryan. February 2019. Carlisle, Pennsylvania.
Notes:
To watch an original recording of Serenade (I recommend you do), click here.
For a Docx version of this essay, click here.
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