• Home
  • About
  • Author
  • Reviews
  • Media/Events
  • Contact

The Making of Markova

~ A biography by Tina Sutton

The Making of Markova

Tag Archives: American Ballet Theatre

Markova Entertains the Troops

07 Saturday Dec 2013

Posted by Tina Sutton in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Alicia Markova, American Ballet Theatre, Antony Tudor, Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo, Bette Davis, Edwin Denby, Giselle, Hollywood Canteen, Hugh Laing, Humphrey Bogart, John Garfield, Lauren Bacall, Leonide Massine, Lisa Mitchell & Bruce Torrence, Marlene Dietrich, Mickey Rooney, Pearl Harbor, Rita Hayowrth, Romeo & Juliet, Sol Hurok, Stage Door Canteen, To Have and Have Not

Markova was dancing Giselle in N.Y. when Pearl harbor was bombed.

Markova was dancing Giselle in N.Y. when Pearl Harbor was bombed.

Seventy-two years ago today the Japanese bombed the United States Pacific Fleet at Pearl Harbor in Oahu, Hawaii. Over 2,400 people were killed – sailors, soldiers, civilians – and nearly 1,200 wounded. Within an instant, the United States was at war. At the very moment Pearl Harbor was under attack, prima ballerina Alicia Markova was in New York City dancing a sold-out matinee performance of Giselle. The audience would hear the horrific news at intermission. When they silently returned to their seats for Act II, the poignancy of Markova’s performance brought a flood of cathartic tears.IMG_2561

The British dancer would spend the next three years supporting the American war effort in every way she could: raising money and donations, entertaining the troops, and offering a brief escape from the world’s worries. “Little 96-pound Alicia Markova, who admits her heart is tangled up with an Englishman now making uniforms for the R.A.F., thinks the ballet has a definite war mission,” revealed a Philadelphia newspaper. “‘Escape,’ she says . . . ‘and it’s good in time of war.'”

Markova was under contract to Sol Hurok during the war years

Markova was under contract to Sol Hurok during the war years.

When the U.S. entered World War II on December 7th, 1941, Markova’s homeland of Great Britain had been under siege for over two years. She had wished to remain in London to be with her family and loved ones, but was contractually obligated to dance in the United States with the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo. Impresario Sol Hurok threatened legal action to prevent her from performing anywhere if she refused to go. As Markova was supporting her widowed mother and sisters, she had no choice.

Upsetting war news from home was inescapable.

Upsetting war news from home was inescapable.

Though dancing in the U.S. brought solace to the celebrated ballerina, worries about her family and friends were omnipresent. “Mr. Massine [artistic director Léonide Massine] won’t allow newspapers in the studio,” Markova told a newspaper reporter in 1940. “And a good thing, too. I was trying to take my mind off what I had read at breakfast one morning. Suddenly one of the corps de ballet opened a paper. ‘London Bombed!’ I felt quite sick. I forgot my entrance and things got pretty blue. . . . The knowledge that your country is at war, that your family is in it, is always with you. While working you can get away from it for a few moments.”

The news only got worse, as Markova told another interviewer in January 1941: “I picked up the newspapers the morning after my New York debut in ‘The Nutcracker.’ In one hand I held the most wonderful compliments from the critics – and in the other, a cable from my mother, telling how a bomb had gone through our apartment. Fortunately,” went on the soft-voiced star of the ballet, “my mother and three sisters were away at the time.”

Markova volunteered at Stage Door Canteens throughout the country

Markova volunteered at Stage Door Canteens throughout the country.

Throughout the war, wherever she was performing, Markova made time to visit Stage Door Canteens across the country. The lively nightspots offered wholesome evenings out for enlisted men and women (no officers!), with free food and the company of cheerful volunteers. Some were rather famous, especially at the Hollywood Canteen founded by actors Bette Davis and John Garfield. (“No liquor, but damned good anyway,” reported one sailor.) Markova had a fine time socializing with the American G.I.s: pouring coffee, chatting amiably, and tripping the light fantastic. The ballerina taught ballroom dancing to the servicemen and they in turn showed her how to jitterbug.

Markova jitterbugged with Mickey Rooney at The Hollywood Canteen

To entertain G.I.s, Markova jitterbugged with Mickey Rooney. (Photo from The Hollywood Canteen, an entertaining book by Lisa Mitchell & Bruce Torrence.)

Markova became so adept that one night she entertained the troops by jitterbugging with film star Mickey Rooney; but an over zealous G.I. named “Killer Joe” almost did her in with his exuberant dance moves. Markova loved it all, and so did the countless grateful soldiers who sent her thank you letters and requests for photos. The bone-thin ballerina couldn’t believe anyone would consider her “pin-up girl” material! But Markova managed to touch the soldiers’ lives in a very different way than Hollywood glamour girls like Rita Hayworth.

Markova, the ethereal "pin-up" girl."  © Cecil Beaton

Markova, the ethereal “pin-up” girl.” © Cecil Beaton

Performing for departing or wounded soldiers, Markova’s magical stage presence was an unforgettable experience that lived long in one’s memory. Headlines in many newspapers spoke of her power to enthrall servicemen with classical dance: “Ballet Their Escape From War Jitters,” read one; “Ballet Hailed as War Outlet” read another. And Markova always made time to sell war bonds while on tour, once even appearing on the radio in the window of I. Magnin’s department store.

Markova photographed by friend Carl Van Vechten

Markova photographed by friend Carl Van Vechten

Markova also supported the women that the soldiers left behind. From The Making of Markova: She was willing and able to put herself in the place of average American women whose lives had changed drastically after the Untied States entered the war. Not only were their loved ones drafted, but in a way, they were too. Women who had never held jobs in their lives were needed as factory workers and fill-in employees for all the men now overseas. Many were scared, tired, and feeling neglected. Markova was a Jewish woman at a time when her religion had horrific consequences. She knew what it was like to feel insecure and afraid. And that attitude won her many female fans.IMG_2564

Her interviews were filled with practical beauty and health tips to make women feel better in those tough times. It was hard to feel attractive while doing factory work. Markova knew how happy her sisters were to receive her care packages of lipsticks and nail polish, which they were unable to get in war-torn England. And Markova always reserved some of her war rations for friends back home, sending weekly food packages and much-needed supplies. Thanks to Markova’s parcels of metal hairpins and ribbons, the corps members at London’s Sadler’s Wells Ballet (today’s Royal Ballet) were able to remain”bunheads!”

Markova dressed simply for press photos during the War. American women loved her for it.

Markova dressed simply for press photos during the War. American women loved her for it.

Markova also understood that times of war required restraint in appearance. “Miss Markova is not, she insists, a glamour girl,” reported the New York World-Telegram. “She’s a simple, quiet English girl who happens to be a good dancer. Her press agents have asked her to dress more snakily, let down her hair and throw off her natural reticence. But Miss Markova insists that being herself and a good dancer into the bargain is ‘Quite Enough.'”

The trend-setting Markova in 1941

The trend-setting Markova in 1941

The quietly chic dancer still managed to set fashion trends. Out to dinner in 1941 with friends from the Ballet Theatre (today’s American Ballet Theatre), Markova was photographed wearing a beret and fitted houndstooth suit with padded shoulders, nipped in waist, and knee-grazing hemline.

Lauren Bacall in the same outfit three years later in To Have and Have Not.

Lauren Bacall in the same outfit three years later in To Have and Have Not.

Three years later, 19-year-old Lauren Bacall would wear an almost identical outfit in her first film, To Have and Have Not. Though female movie-goers loved the fashions, far more memorable today is Bacall’s repartee with soon-to-be-husband Humphrey Bogart: “You don’t have to say anything, and you don’t have to do anything. Not a thing. Oh, maybe just whistle. You know how to whistle, don’t you, Steve? You just put your lips together and… blow.”

Markova got her share of whistles too, accompanied by standing ovations at curtain calls across the country. The popularity of ballet actually increased during the war years, as famous American dance critic Edwin Denby explained: “Wartime, here as abroad, made everyone more eager for the civilized and peaceful excitement of ballet. More people could also afford tickets. And in wartime, the fact that no word was spoken on the stage was in itself a relief. Suddenly the theaters all over the country were packed.”

During the war years, Markova practically lived on trains.

During the war years, Markova practically lived on trains.

In order to accommodate audiences nationwide, the company practically lived on trains. Outside of the big cities, performances were often one-night stands held in odd venues such as high school gymnasiums, American Legion auditoriums and Town Halls. As Markova recalled, “Just before we were leaving the Metropolitan (Opera House in New York), the list – the tour list – went up, and I remember looking at the list and I couldn’t understand it because for three whole weeks we never slept in a hotel.” Fortunately Markova was adept at sleeping on trains, and she laughingly remembered inventing “the Army Game” so the company could bathe. The wily “maneuver” involved taking advantage of hotel day rates while the stage crew unloaded and built sets. One dancer would check in to a single suite, with six more sneaking up afterwards. They would tip the maid to bring extra towels and take turns bathing, eating, and napping. It was like a Marx Brothers movie!

Markova with fellow Ballet Theatre  Brits Hugh Laing (at left) and Antony Tudor (at right).

Markova with fellow Ballet Theatre Brits Antony Tudor (at left) and Hugh Laing (at right).

For the Ballet Theatre’s British contingent, mastering new choreography helped take their minds off war worries back home. Antony Tudor’s Romeo & Juliet co-starring Hugh Laing (with Tudor as Tybalt) was one of Markova’s most rewarding roles. Though 32 years old when the ballet debuted in 1943, she had no trouble embodying a love-struck girl of 14.  In preparation, Markova memorized the entire Shakespeare play so she would have Juliet’s thoughts, words, and actions in her head as she danced.

Markova and Hugh Laing in Romeo & Juliet (Life Magazine)

Markova and Hugh Laing in Romeo & Juliet (Life Magazine)

“Her new Juliet,” wrote Edwin Denby in the New York Herald Tribune, “is extraordinary. One doesn’t think of it as Markova in a Tudor part; you see only Juliet. She is like no girl one has ever seen before. She is completely real. One doesn’t take one’s eyes off her, and one doesn’t forget a single move.” Added dance critic Grace Roberts, “For once, there was a Juliet who made Romeo’s quick reactions believable. Her light darting steps barely seemed to touch the ground . . . Markova’s deer like shyness in the first scene, her tragic controlled despair, her exquisite movement of her hand as she wakes up in the tomb scene, are all unforgettable in their subtlety.”

For the transported audience, it was indeed an escape from the worries of the world.

Share this:

  • Tweet
  • Email
  • More
  • Share on Tumblr

Like this:

Like Loading...

What’s in a Name? Fame!

15 Tuesday Oct 2013

Posted by Tina Sutton in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Alastair Macaulay, Alicia Markova, American Ballet Theatre, Anton Dolin, Antony Tudor, Ballets Russes, Charles Payne, Cyd Charisse, Fred Astaire & Ginger Rogers, Gene Kelly, German Sevastianov, Gillian Murphy, Irina Baronova, Léon Bakst, Leonide Massine, Lydia Sokolova, Marc Chagall, Margot Fonteyn, Nora Kaye, Olga Spessitseva, Sergei Diaghilev, Sol Hurok

Alicia Markova, age 14, at Diaghilev's Ballets Russes

Alicia Markova, age 14, at Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes

“Who would pay to see Marks dance?” Sergei Diaghilev asked the youngest-ever soloist at his famed Ballets Russes. She was Lilian Alicia Marks, a tiny and timid British girl, just turned 14. She knew what was coming next. Ballet was a world of classically-trained Russians: Pavlova, Nijinsky, Karsavina, Danilova. So Diaghilev rechristened his little dance prodigy Alicia Markova. Lily Alicia was actually disappointed. It was only a few letters tacked onto her last name. Why not the more dramatic Olga Markova, in honor of her hero, ballet legend Olga Spessitseva? But uh-LEE-see-ah MAR-kova it would be.

“What’s in a name?” asked Shakespeare in Romeo & Juliet. “That which we call a rose by any other would smell as sweet.” But does a delivery of rosa berberifolias fill you with joy? The flower’s latin name sounds more like a skin rash than a romantic bloom. So with all due deference to the Bard, there’s a lot in a name, especially for performers.

Eugene Curran and Tula Ellice

Eugene Curran and Tula Ellice: not ideal marquis names

One of the most popular dance couples of all times might have had trouble enticing American movie audiences as “McMath & Austerlitz,” a name more befitting an accounting firm. Much catchier is Rogers & Astaire. And Eugene Curran Kelly smartly went with the jauntier Gene. (Fun fact: Markova and Gene Kelly liked to play charades together.) Then there’s Kelly’s impossibly long-limbed partner Cyd Charisse. Would she have ever seen her name up in lights if she stuck with Tula Ellice Finklea?

In a recent New York Times article, the paper’s dance critic Alastair Macaulay wondered if today’s talented American ballerinas would be given more roles if they too considered changing their names:

Gillian Murphy at ABT

Gillian Murphy dancing with American Ballet Theatre

“For many people, a ballerina must also be an embodiment of the Old World,” writes Macaulay. “Today that opinion seems shared by American Ballet Theater, whose idea of ballet theater often seems none too American. In its eight-week season, which just concluded at the Metropolitan Opera House, only 2 of its 11 principal women were from this country. The younger of them, Gillian Murphy, is reaching the zenith of her powers; but would she be more revered if — following the practice of Hilda Munnings (Lydia Sokolova), Lilian Alicia Marks (Alicia Markova) and Peggy Hookham (Margot Fonteyn) — she changed her name to Ghislaine Muravieva and claimed to come from Omsk?”

Markova starred with the American Ballet Theatre (then called just Ballet Theatre) in its start-up years in the early 1940s. Previously, she had made her stellar reputation by pioneering British ballet at a time only Russian companies were considered true ballet artists. When interviewed by a London newspaper in 1933, Markova posed the question, “Are we becoming ballet-minded?” As excerpted in The Making of Markova: 

Lily Marks and Patte Kay

Lily Marks and Patte Kay: better names for vaudeville than ballet

“British Ballet has had to work hard, but I think we have come through,” Miss Markova told the Daily Sketch. “It is becoming so popular in theatres and cinema houses that thousands of British girls are going into training. Soon we shall be able to leave off our ‘Russian’ names – and be just plain Jones and Smith,” laughed Miss Markova. “I got my early training with Diaghileff, and, of course, he wouldn’t let us have any but Russian names.” . . . It made all the difference, though, no doubt, the dancing was the same.

Lest anyone think this was entirely a female prejudice, male dancers also changed their names. Markova’s most frequent partner, Anton Dolin, was christened Francis Patrick Chippendall Healey-Kay. When starting to dance professionally, he took the first name Anton, after Chekhov, with Diaghilev suggesting Patrikayev for his last. But after a few years, Patte, as everyone called him, changed it once again, this time to Dolin, which stuck. Even celebrated dancer/choreographer Léonide Massine, who was Russian by birth, got a name change courtesy of Diaghilev. The impresario thought Leonid Fyodorovich Myasin too difficult to pronounce.

Jewish Ballets Russes designer Léon Bakst painted by fellow Jewish artist Modigliani

Ballets Russes designer Léon Bakst changed his name to sound less Jewish. Here painted by fellow Jewish artist Amedeo Modigliani.

The illustrious Ballets Russes artist Léon Bakst changed his Russian name for a very different reason. Born Lev Samoilovich Rosenberg, he “renamed himself Léon Bakst after moving to St. Petersburg, where he quickly established a reputation both as a painter and as a sophisticated and much revered set and costume designer,” explains author Jonathan Wilson in his 2007 biography of Marc Chagall, one of Bakst’s pupils. “Bakst, who had worked hard to erase at least some elements of his Jewishness – had converted to Lutheranism in 1903 so he could marry a wealthy Christian – but converted back seven years later after the marriage fell apart.” (The Jewish Chagall would also change his name to better fit in with his new artistic home in Paris. Thus Moishe Shagal became Marc Chagall.)

Many Jewish artists and performers experienced virulent anti-Semitism in Russia and Europe throughout the early-to-mid 20th century, including Alicia Markova, who always remained fiercely open and proud of her religion.

Ballet Theatre's unpopular business manager, German Sevastianov

Ballet Theatre’s ruthless business manager, German Sevastianov

When Markova signed with New York’s Ballet Theatre in 1941, German Sevastianov was the newly named business manager brought on by booking impresario Sol Hurok to “Russify” the company. As Ballet Theatre’s then managing director Charles Payne recalled in his fascinating book American Ballet Theatre, it was like the “Russian Occupation,” all part of Hurok’s master plan for billing the American company as “The Greatest in Russian Ballet.”

From The Making of Markova: “Sevastianov saw to it that dancers who were formerly principals would now be demoted to soloists,” writes Antony Tudor biographer Donna Perlmutter. “He cast a jaundiced eye on the likes of Miriam Golden, Nora Kaye, Muriel Bentley, David Nillo and more – most of them Jews – and brought in dancers, along with Baronova (Sevastianov’s wife, prima ballerina Irina Baronova) from the Ballet Russe [de Monte Carlo]. It was said that he was anti-American, anti-Jewish, and anti-Tudor.”

Markova as Giselle at Ballet Theatre, 1941

Markova as Giselle at Ballet Theatre, 1941

But when it came to Markova, Sevastianov had no choice. The “Jewess” was to share the limelight as principal ballerina with his wife Irina.

She was just too big a box-office draw to ignore.

Ironically, despite being anti-Semitic, Sevastianov would change his own name due to American prejudices against Germans at the outbreak of World War II. So “German” Sevastianov became the friendlier “Gerry.” But another white lie would force him to actually defend the Jewish cause on the front lines, according to Ballet Theatre’s Charles Payne. In order to obtain Baronova’s parents’ permission for the couple to marry – Irina was only 17, and Sevastianov nearly twice her age –  he had claimed to be born in 1906, rather than 1904, as 29 sounded much younger than 31. Sevastianov even maintained the falsehood on his American passport. Those few years unfortunately made him eligible for the draft in 1944, though he was actually past the age 35 cut-off. But when “Gerry” informed the draft board of his real birth year, he was offered two options: spend the war years in jail for perjury, or serve the country. Suddenly the armed forces didn’t seem so bad.

Share this:

  • Tweet
  • Email
  • More
  • Share on Tumblr

Like this:

Like Loading...

Mastering Stravinsky: Markova’s Rite of Passage

23 Monday Sep 2013

Posted by Tina Sutton in Uncategorized

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Alicia Markova, American Ballet Theatre, Ballet of the Elephants, Ballets Russes, Bronislava Nijinska, Circus and the City: New York 1793-2010, Discovery.com, George Balanchine, George Benjamin, Henri Matisse, Igor Stravinsky, Matthew Wittman, Picasso, RIngling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus, Sergei Diaghilev, The Firebird, The Jewish Museum, The Rite of Spring, Vaslav Nijinsky, Vera Stravinsky

Stravinsky & Nijinsky shocked the world with The Rite of Spring

Stravinsky & Nijinsky shocked the world with The Rite of Spring

No one said breakthrough art is easy, either for the creator or the initial audience. When Igor Stravinsky composed The Rite of Spring (Le Sacré de Printemps) for the Ballets Russes 100 years ago, it spearheaded a revolution in contemporary music – and a revolt in the theatre. Ballet patrons physically rioted when faced with the cacophonous score accompanying Vaslav Nijinsky’s equally provocative choreography. Though police were called in, impresario Sergei Diaghilev couldn’t have been happier. The more his ballet company shocked, the more press he got, and the more tickets he sold.

“No composer since can avoid the shadow of this great icon of the 20th century, and score after score by modern masters would be unthinkable without its model,” British composer George Benjamin wrote of Stravinsky in The Guardian this past May. “This, in a way, is cubist music – where musical materials slice into one another, interact and superimpose with the most brutal edges, thus challenging the musical perspective and logic that had dominated European ears for centuries.”

Picasso's cubist cardboard costume for Parade (1917)

Picasso’s cubist cardboard costume for Parade (1917)

Diaghilev was a genius at choosing artists who challenged the status quo. Who but the avant-garde Russian would have asked Picasso to create cubist ballet costumes – out of stiff cardboard no less!

A surreal Bronislava Nijinska at the Ballets Russes

A surreal Bronislava Nijinska at the Ballets Russes

– or applaud Bronislava Nijinska’s startling surrealist make-up for Léonide Massine’s Kikimora in 1917?

When Diaghilev invited Alicia Markova to join the Ballets Russes as its youngest-ever soloist in 1923, she was a shy, unsophisticated 14-year-old. (See photo below.)

Alicia Markova at age 14, the newest member of the Ballets Russes (1923)

Alicia Markova at age 14, the newest member of the Ballets Russes (1924)

Her first starring role was in Le Chant de Rossignol (The Song of the Nightingale), with choreography by George Balanchine – his first major commission for Diaghilev – and music by Igor Stravinsky. While the tiny dance prodigy had no problems mastering Balanchine’s complicated and supremely athletic dance sequences, Stravinsky’s music was another matter. As Markova reminisced in The Making of Markova: I remember the very first rehearsal with Balanchine. I started to cry and they said what’s the matter? I said I’m never going to be able to learn this. You know, this isn’t music to me. What am I to do? And Stravinsky was so wonderful. . . . He said, “There’s no worry. I’ll be there for all the rehearsals, and I will conduct, [unheard of for the celebrated composer!] and as long as I’m here, you mustn’t worry, but there’s one thing you have to promise me . . . You’ve got to learn the scores by ear. You must learn the instrumentation, orchestration and everything by ear,” he said, “and then you’ll never have any worry for the rest of your life.” And he was so right.

Markova's star-maker Sergei Diaghilev, with her music teacher Igor Stravinsky

Markova’s star-maker Sergei Diaghilev, with her music teacher Igor Stravinsky

Not only did Stravinsky become Markova’s music instructor, but he accompanied her, Diaghilev, and Henri Matisse (the lucky Alicia’s art teacher!) to the studio of Nightingale costumier (and former ballet dancer) Vera de Bosset Soudeikine, who incidentally, would become Stravinsky’s second wife. Matisse was responsible for Markova’s costume design, with Mme. Soudeikine charged with bringing his creation to life.

Stravinsky happily married to  second wife Vera Soudekina, both subjects of a fascinating new play Nikolai and the Others at Lincoln Center last spring

Stravinsky happily married to second wife Vera de Bosset Soudeikine, both subjects (along with Balanchine), of Richard Nelson’s fascinating play Nikolai and the Others, performed at Lincoln Center last spring.

When Matisse announced his plan to cover Markova’s little girl hair bob with a white bonnet trimmed in osprey feathers – an extravagantly expensive trim – the budget-minded Diaghilev emphatically cried ‘No!” As Markova finishes the story in The Making of Markova: But please Sergevitch,” pleaded Matisse, “the little one needs them round her face to soften the hard line of the bonnet and make her a little bird,” protested Matisse. “No ospreys,” repeated Diaghilev. Then Stravinsky entered the argument. He too thought they were necessary, but Diaghilev was adamant and refused, and unexpectedly Stravinsky turned to Matisse and said, “Henri, we buy the ospreys between us, 50-50, yes?” “Yes!” echoed Matisse, and so I had my ospreys, and how I guarded them, as if they were gold.

Balanchine and Stravinsky collaborated on a gargantuan task 1942 . . .

Balanchine and Stravinsky collaborated on a gargantuan task 1942 . . .

While Markova never again had trouble with Stravinsky’s unique musical phrasing, others were not so lucky, as when the composer collaborated again with Balanchine in New York in 1942. The mystified dancers? Pachyderms at the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus! As Matthew Wittman explained in Circus and the City: New York 1793-2010: “‘The Ballet of the Elephants’ production was an attempt by John Ringling North to bring high culture into the circus and featured fifty elephants in pink tutus accompanied by female dancers. The rhythm changes in Stravinsky’s Circus Polka proved difficult for the elephants to grasp, and it was only performed intermittently.”

Apparently circus elephants do forget when it comes to dancing to Stravinsky

Apparently circus elephants do forget when it comes to dancing to Stravinsky

Evidently pigeons and songbirds don’t care much for Stravinsky’s dissonant compositions either, according to a research study posted on Discovery.com. The classical cadences of Bach are more to their liking. Fish, it appears, are musically non-judgmental – if listening to either composer’s music results in more food.

The very human Markova, however, was an ardent and vocal Stravinsky fan – of both the man and his exhilarating music. The two remained lifelong friends and visited each other often in the United States where Stravinsky moved with Vera during World War II.

In 1945, Markova starred in The Firebird at Ballet Theatre, with music by Stravinsky,

Markova starred in The Firebird at Ballet Theatre (1945), with music by Stravinsky

Markova asked Stravinsky to compose music for her Broadway debut – to which he happily consented – and she delighted starring at the Ballet Theatre (today’s American Ballet Theatre) in the 1945 revival of The Firebird, the composer’s first commission for the Ballets Russes back in 1910. (Though Michel Fokine choreographed the ballet for Anna Pavlova, she refused the role proclaiming Stravinsky’s music “noise!”) Marc Chagall (currently the subject of a illuminating new exhibit at The Jewish Museum in New York) designed Markova’s breathtaking Firebird costume, which was covered in shimmering gold dust and topped with a dramatic headdress of bird of paradise feathers. One wonders if osprey plumes were still just too expensive!

Share this:

  • Tweet
  • Email
  • More
  • Share on Tumblr

Like this:

Like Loading...

The Colorful Marc Chagall

14 Sunday Apr 2013

Posted by Tina Sutton in Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Aleko, Alicia Markova, American Ballet Theatre, Chagall: Beyond Color, Dallas Museum of Art, Leonide Massine, Marc Chagall, The Firebird

Marc Chagall's drawing of Alicia Markova for the ballet Aleko

Marc Chagall’s drawing of Alicia Markova for the ballet Aleko

Though I can’t dance a step, I did share one thing with Alicia Markova: a lifelong love of art and art history. So when researching her biography, I relished exploring Markova’s numerous personal relationships with many of the most cutting-edge modernists of her day. She developed an especially close bond and friendship with the Russian painter Marc Chagall, whom Time magazine art critic Robert Hughes called “the quintessential Jewish artist of the 20th century.”

Markova and Chagall shared not only a religion – both Jews in vehemently anti-Semitic times – but also an immense joy in their art, evidence of which is now on display in the Dallas Museum of Art’s irresistible show: Chagall: Beyond Color. For the first time since the 1940s, Chagall’s glorious sets and costumes from the ballet “Aleko” – choreographed by Léonide Massine and starring Alicia Markova – are on public view in the United States.

Chagall exhibit at Dallas Museum of Art

Chagall exhibit at Dallas Museum of Art

When the ballet premiered in Mexico City in 1942, Chagall’s ebullient designs were so bold and original that celebrated artists Diego Rivera, Frida Kahlo and José Orozco gave him a standing ovation on opening night. (The ballet received 19 curtain calls, with Chagall invited up on stage to take his well-deserved bow with the dancers.)

How did Marc Chagall wind up in Mexico? Forced to flee Paris with his family due to Nazi persecution during World War II, the renowned painter moved to New York when propitiously invited by the city’s acclaimed Museum of Modern Art. It was there, while working for Ballet Theatre (now the American Ballet Theatre), that fellow Russian Léonide Massine asked Chagall to collaborate with him on “Aleko” – a tragic tale of passionate love and betrayal based on a poem by another famous Russian, Alexander Pushkin. Fortunately that creative process took place during a spring/summer performance booking in Mexico City, because the New York stage painters union would not have permitted Chagall to do anything but “direct” the design process if they had been working in Manhattan.

One of Chagall's 30 x 40 foot hand-painted ballet set backdrops for Aleko

One of Chagall’s 30 x 40 foot hand-painted ballet set backdrops for Aleko

Chagall's fish costume for Aleko

Chagall’s fish costume for Aleko

That would have been a tremendous loss, as you can see here in photos of several extraordinary Aleko pieces in the Dallas show. Chagall’s four hand-painted backdrops (30 by 48 feet each!) boasted his signature folkloric symbolism, spontaneity of brushstroke, and remarkable eye for intense, expressive color. The artist also hand-painted the wildly inventive costumes, almost 70 in all, each with its own distinct flavor of delicious colorations and whimsical design.

Chagall violin costume for Aleko

Chagall violin costume for Aleko

Markova spent much time working and socializing with Chagall and his beloved wife Bella during the entire creative process for Aleko. The trio would shop the city’s marketplace together, gathering inspiration from the intense local colors as they scooped up vibrantly dyed fabrics and intricate decorative trims. Bella, an excellent seamstress, would then stitch the various materials together under her husband’s direction as he experimented with fanciful layering. Markova also contributed, making exotic armlets and necklaces for her costumes from decorative Mexican gold coins.

Markova as Aleko's Zemphira in a costume designed by Marc Chagall

Markova as Aleko’s gypsy Zemphira, costume design by Marc Chagall

As the firey gypsy temptress Zemphira, Markova had numerous costume changes, one more exotic than the next, and all covered in layered nettings, fabric flourishes and colorful appliqués. Chagall hand-painted each garment while Markova modeled it, so he could achieve the perfect placement for his symbolic design details.

Best known as an exquisitely refined and ethereal classical ballerina – the quintessential Giselle – Markova was a revelation to critics and audiences alike as the perfect embodiment of a “priestess of evil,” as one critic remarked. Chagall’s costumes went a long way in helping Markova create that acclaimed performance, as dance critic Grace Roberts described:  

Chagall hand-painted Markova's costume while she modeled it

Chagall hand-painted this costume while Markova modeled it for him

With sunburnt make-up, wild hair, and a vivid red costume, her very appearance was a shock, though a delightful one. Nothing was left of the familiar Markova but the thistledown lightness, and authoritative dancing style, now turned to the uses of demi-caractère.

On the bodice of Markova’s first costume (photo at left), Chagall painted a small red heart just below the ballerina’s own, with a tree of life beneath it to illustrate the initial hopefulness of passionate love.

Ever after, Chagall signed all his correspondences to Markova with his name inside a heart – not as a token of romantic love – but as a reminder of their happy times working together. The pair would reunite in 1945 for the The Firebird ballet with music by Igor Stravinsky, once again with Markova dancing the lead role.

Chagall's  study for The Firebird ballet curtain

Chagall’s study for The Firebird ballet curtain

As in the study above for The Firebird ballet curtain (also in the Chagall: Beyond Color show in Dallas) the artist whimsically melds the spirit of Markova and the titled bird, both capable of effortless flight. In addition to creating a breathtaking costume for Markova with large beak and real bird-of-paradise plumes, Chagall developed a special body make-up for his fine feathered friend. First a dark brown body-wash was applied to Markova’s shoulders, arms, and back, followed by patches of grease. Gold-dust was then sprinkled all over her (or thrown at her, as she liked to say) sticking to any oily surfaces. While dancing the role, Markova’s body glistened like a bird’s feathers in the sun.

Markova and Chagall in 1967

Markova and Chagall in 1967

Though a magical effect, it took hours in a hot tub to soak off, forcing Markova to leave the theatre many an evening still covered in itchy gold dust. But she said it was always worth it, and she and Chagall remained great friends for life.

Share this:

  • Tweet
  • Email
  • More
  • Share on Tumblr

Like this:

Like Loading...

Order on Amazon

  • Order from Barnes & Noble
  • Order from IndieBound
    • Write to Tina

    Archives

    • October 2014
    • August 2014
    • June 2014
    • May 2014
    • April 2014
    • March 2014
    • February 2014
    • January 2014
    • December 2013
    • November 2013
    • October 2013
    • September 2013
    • August 2013
    • July 2013
    • June 2013
    • May 2013
    • April 2013
    • March 2013

    Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

    Join 39 other subscribers

    Links

    • BU Gotlieb Archive

    Blog at WordPress.com.

    • Follow Following
      • The Making of Markova
      • Join 33 other followers
      • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
      • The Making of Markova
      • Customize
      • Follow Following
      • Sign up
      • Log in
      • Report this content
      • View site in Reader
      • Manage subscriptions
      • Collapse this bar
     

    Loading Comments...
     

      %d bloggers like this: