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The Making of Markova

~ A biography by Tina Sutton

The Making of Markova

Tag Archives: John Rawlings

Markova is the Mother of Invention

09 Thursday Oct 2014

Posted by Tina Sutton in Uncategorized

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"Necessity is the mother of invention.", Agnes DeMille, Al Hirschfeld, Alice Nikitina, Alicia Markova, Anna Pavlova, Anton Dolin, Arnold Haskell, Ballet Club, Ballet Russes, Beatrice Lillie, Bernard Williams, Bert Lahr, Cyril Beaumont, Frederick Ashton, George Balanchine, Jacob's Pillow, John Drummond, John Rawlings, La Chatte, La Péri, leg warmers, London's Regal Cinema, Marie Rambert, Mark Twain, Maryinsky Ballet School, Mercury Theatre, Olga Speeivtseva, prima ballerina assoluta, Radio City Music Hall, Sergei Diaghilev, Speaking of Diaghilev, The Nightingale, The Seven Lively Arts, Vogue, wartime rationing

Ironically, no one knows for sure who “invented” the adage “Necessity is the Mother of Invention.” Though variously attributed to Plato, Aesop, and an Indian philosopher (no, it wasn’t Frank Zappa), the saying came into general usage in 17th century England. Several hundred years later, the proverb would prove prophetic for a small, sickly Jewish girl from Finsbury Park, London. Born in 1910 with flat feet, knock knees and weak legs, Lilian Alicia Marks was the unlikeliest of future ballet stars. First, all classical ballerinas in her day were Russian. Second, as Markova herself often joked, “What would people say to a girl with throat trouble who announced her intention of becoming an operatic singer?”

Born with flat feet, knock knees, and wobbly legs, the five-year old Markova (shown here at the beach with her mother and baby sister Doris) was the unlikeliest of future ballerinas.

It was at the beach that Eileen Marks first noticed her daughter’s “duck-like” flat feet, knock-knees and wobbly legs. (Pictured here: the 5-year-old Markova next to her mother holding baby sister Doris.)

Remedial ballet exercises uncovered a dance prodigy.

The necessity of remedial ballet exercises unmasked a dance prodigy.

And indeed, little Lily would never have dreamt of a dance career had ballet class not become a necessity. Not only did she have fallen arches, but her right knee often buckled under. The doctor proposed leg irons as a cure, a fate neither the frail seven-year-old nor her mother relished. Any other options? Ballet exercises might strengthen her limbs and feet, offered the physician. They did. And a ballet prodigy was discovered in the process.

Mark Twain’s variation on the theme was “Necessity is the mother of taking chances.” That was certainly true when the painfully shy Lily Marks, age 13, auditioned for Ballets Russes impresario Sergei Diaghilev and his new hire – the untried choreographer George Balanchine.

From the The Making of Markova: “Balanchine started asking me to do all kinds of things, including a lot of acrobatic steps. These I did rather to his surprise, mine too I might add. Finally he said, ‘Now please do for me two pirouettes in the air, like the men do.’ This seemed to me a little extraordinary as I had never even tried to do one. Anyway, I attempted it and went round perfectly. He was delighted and said, ‘Yes, you will do.'”

George Balanchine asked the teenaged Markova to do acrobatic steps formerly only performed by men. Their collaboration on The Nightingale was a triumph for them both.

George Balanchine asked the teenaged Markova to do acrobatic steps formerly only performed by men. Their collaboration on The Nightingale was a triumph for them both.

Within months, the naïve teen became the youngest ever soloist at the world famous Ballets Russes and star of Balanchine’s first full-length choreographic work for the company, The Nightingale. As London newspaper The Independent would later comment: “Alicia’s incredible virtuosity thrilled Balanchine. He included double tours en l’air, a turning jump from the male lexicon, and devised a diagonal of jouettés that gave the impression of a little bird hopping.” The ballet launched both of their careers. However, Lilian Alicia Marks would not be listed on the program. Being a prima ballerina in the 1920s “necessitated” a Russian name. “Who would pay to see Marks dance?” scoffed Diaghilev, who quickly rechristened her Alicia Markova.

At Diaghilev's behest, the 14-year-old Markova learned to dance silently.

At Diaghilev’s behest, the 14-year-old Markova learned to dance silently.

Diaghilev also believed the best ballerinas made as little noise as possible. More than anything, his youngest-ever prodigy wanted to please him, so Markova learned to dance silently. “If Markova springs like a winged fairy, she comes to the ground just as lightly,” wrote British dance historian Cyril Beaumont, “noiselessly in fact, always passing – ball, sole, heel – through the whole of the supplanted foot. Of how many ballerine can that be said?”

An airy lightness would become Markova’s signature, along with her never showing any signs of physical exertion or heavy breathing. She developed that otherworldly quality out of necessity when performing with Marie Rambert’s Ballet Club, one of England’s first classical dance companies in the early 1930s. “The stage at the Mercury Theatre, it was very small,” explained Rambert. “But she [Markova] turned it to her advantage. She developed a very effortless technique. You could stand quite close to her. You didn’t hear her breathe. You didn’t hear her move a step. She just floated on a cloud. It was really wonderful!”

Close proximity to audiences in a tiny theater necessitated Markova's mastering a silent, effortless dance technique. (At the Ballet Club, 1933)

Close proximity to audiences in a tiny theater necessitated Markova’s mastering a silent, effortless dance technique. (At the Ballet Club, 1933)

To prevent her headpieces from moving while on-stage, Markova glued them to her head!  (From Cimarosiana, 1927.)

To prevent her headpieces from moving while on-stage, Markova glued them to her head! (From Cimarosiana, 1927.)

Markova may have been extremely timid off-stage in her early dancing years, but she was a whirlwind on. So much so, that one night while doing a series of rapid turns, her headdress flew off, fortunately settling ’round her neck rather than landing with a thud. Though Diaghilev was impressed she kept dancing impeccably, he sternly warned that must never happen again. The obedient teen’s solution? Glue. Fortunately she found one that stuck without removing every hair on her head.

Nicknamed “the Sphinx” by her Ballets Russes peers, Markova was exceptionally quiet in a company of exuberant personalities. She was keenly observant, however, avidly attending dress rehearsals of other dancers. That was lucky for her when she inherited the lead role in La Chatte.

The slippery stage set for La Chatte (1927) downed two prime ballerinas - including Alicie Nikitina shown here - before Markova inherited the role.

The slippery stage set for La Chatte (1927) downed two prima ballerinas – including Alice Nikitina shown here – before Markova inherited the role.

“[Olga] Spessivtseva created it and had an accident, and then [Alice] Nikitina took over and she hurt her foot, and then I went in,” Markova explained to Speaking of Diaghilev author John Drummond. “I was the third Cat. I was only sixteen at the time, but I was very observant. I had noticed that they complained so much about the floor because it was black. American cloth, terribly slippery in certain areas. And other areas, because of the very modern design, were like cotton, two surfaces, and I figured out that was causing the accidents.”

 Markova got the better of La Chatte's slippery set piece.

Markova got the better of La Chatte’s dangerous floor cloth.

Making matters worse – or better, depending how you look at it – La Chatte choreographer George Balanchine decided to take advantage of Alicia’s special talents and add more complicated and difficult moves. Again, as told to Drummond: “I thought, I don’t want to hurt my foot. I don’t want to be put out, because it was a wonderful ballet, marvelous role. I had to solve the problem somehow, and this slippery floor, because otherwise I wasn’t going to be able to do all these double turns in the air that Balanchine had given me and all these pirouettes on pointe which he had added, so I suddenly remembered when I danced on a ballroom floor, I used to have rubbers [sole grips] put on my ballet shoes.”

Markova invented a ballet wardrobe essential . . .

Markova invented a ballet wardrobe essential . . .

As one critic noted, “The Cat of Alicia Markova was flawless. She is an accomplished ballerina . . . one of the greatest dancer talents of present times.” And resourceful. In fact, to solve an ongoing workout problem, she invented one of today’s most ubiquitous ballet essentials. The lightbulb went off while Markova was knitting a bed jacket as a Christmas gift for an elderly friend. In order to make the wrap both warm and comfortably lightweight, she created an airy, lace-like stitch using extra thick wooden needles.

That gave her an idea. Up until that time, dancers wore heavy leg warmers over knit tights during winter practice sessions. Despite the cold, the wool made them sweat profusely. In Markova’s case, perspiring heavily led to weight loss she could ill afford. So using the same open-weave stitch as in the bed jacket, she created lightweight leg covers that were breathable and less restrictive.

. . . leg warmers! (Here, rehearsing at Jacob's Pillow, 1941)

. . . leg warmers! (Here, taking a break from rehearsing at Jacob’s Pillow, 1941)

When fellow dancers saw Markova’s creation, they asked if she might be willing to knit them several pairs as well. She would. They quickly caught on and the ballet world has Alicia Markova to thank for the standard practice leggings of today.

Despite Markova's prodigious appetite, she appeared lighter than air on stage.

Despite Markova’s prodigious appetite, she appeared lighter than air on stage.

Unlike many of her peers, Markova was always trying to put on weight rather than lose it. Bone thin in her early years, she was once described by dancer/choreographer Agnes DeMille as “the stringiest girl I ever saw, a darling little skeleton.” And as Ballet Club’s Marie Rambert noted, “Happy Alicia who can eat like a mortal and dance like an immortal. It was so astonishing to see Alicia putting down a thick solid steak and kidney pie, and to think when she comes on the stage, she’s a disembodied spirit. How did she do it?”

Five meals a day cost money and Markova made very little of that while pioneering British ballet in the early 1930s. “I had to live and I always had a great appetite,” she later reminisced. “I love my food, so I was doing commercial work as well.” The “commercial work” Markova referred to was dancing in popular stage musicals, as well as live at London’s Regal Cinema three times daily between film showings – much like the Rockette shows at Radio City Music Hall in New York. Frederick Ashton was the choreographer.

Paltry wages from London's nascent ballet companies necessitated Markova's taking on commercial work to support herself and her family. (Here in the romantic comedy A Kiss in Spring, 1930, with Harold Turner.

Paltry wages from London’s nascent ballet companies necessitated Markova’s taking on commercial work to support herself and her family. (Here in the romantic comedy A Kiss in Spring, 1930, with Harold Turner.)

From The Making of Markova: The pay was exorbitant for the times, £20 a week for Markova, and would subsidize her and Ashton’s more serious collaborations for the budding British ballet community. . . . Everything was on a grand scale, especially when compared to the tiny, small-budgeted Mercury Theatre. . . . Sandwiched between a performance of The Regal Symphony Orchestra and the Hollywood film Illicit – starring Barbara Stanwyck and Joan Blondell – Alicia Markova and William Chappell were to appear live on stage in the Dance of the Hours. The production was quite an extravaganza with the two leads, amply surrounded by a large – though rather inexperienced – corps de ballet. The audience was wowed nonetheless, captivated by the two stars, elaborate sets, and fanciful costumes. . . .

The Cinema production numbers changed every three weeks, which meant Markova would be performing three shows a day in one ballet, while rehearsing the next one. It took a toll physically, especially in Ashton’s Foxhunting Ballet, where Markova played the titled Fox “in all-over brown leotard, large bushy tail, a bonnet with little ears and paw-like gloves.”

Markova and Ashton's commercial work helped popularize classical ballet to a wider audience. (Markova in Ashton's La Peri at the Ballet Club, 1931

Markova and Ashton’s commercial work helped popularize classical ballet to a wider audience. (Markova in Ashton’s La Péri at the Ballet Club, 1931.)

In 1945, Markova danced in Broadway's musical/comedy The Seven Lively Arts to expose new audiences to classical ballet, shown here with partner Anton Dolin and comedians Beatrice Lillie and Bert Lahr in a delightful Al Hirschfeld caricature.)

In 1945, Markova danced in Broadway’s musical/comedy The Seven Lively Arts to expose new audiences to classical ballet. (Captured by legendary caricaturist Al Hirschfeld here with Anton Dolin and comedians Beatrice Lillie and Bert Lahr.)

. . .”I just remembered being dazzled at what she was doing,” [ballet critic] Arnold Haskell remembered years later. “It was sandwiched between the selling of ice-creams and the film and all that, and you couldn’t get into a ballet atmosphere, but you could admire the virtuosity, and it was a show of virtuosity for a popular public.” In many ways, it could not have been a more effective tool for helping ballet trickle through all levels of society in England for the first time.

While many high-toned balletomanes looked down on a ballerina of Markova’s stature performing in such “mass-market” productions, she continued appearing in popular venues long after she needed the money. Never a snob, Markova felt exposing new audiences to the beauty of ballet – no matter where they first saw it – would only increase ticket sales for classical dance. And it did.

Perhaps it was kissing the legendary Blarney Stone that gave Markova her belated gift for the gab.

Perhaps it was kissing the legendary Blarney Stone that gave Markova her belated gift for the gab.

Another boon to popularizing ballet in the 1930s and ’40s was Markova’s appreciation for – and mastery of – the mass media of her day. In 1932, she became the first ballet dancer ever to appear on the new-fangled medium of television (see earlier post: The Television-ary Markova), and willed herself to become a more vocal marketer in newspapers and magazines. That was not easy for a woman who barely spoke a word until age 6 and totally lacked confidence as a public speaker. But Markova loved ballet, and wanted everyday folks everywhere to share her appreciation. IMG_1415.JPGUnderstanding the power and wide reach of print media, she slowly but surely became a more lively and entertaining interview subject. Her natural empathy and down-to-earth manner endeared her to thousands of housewives and working women, especially during the war years. (See earlier post: Markova Entertains the Troops.)

Contractual obligations necessitated Markova's dancing in the US during WWII, though she wished to stay at home with her family. (From left to right, her sisters Vivienne, Doris, and Bunny.)

Contractual obligations necessitated Markova’s dancing in the U.S. during WWII, though she wished to stay in London with her family. (From left to right, the Marks sisters Vivienne, Doris, and Bunny.)

And speaking of the war years, Markova wished to remain in London with her family and friends at the outbreak of WWII. Unfortunately, she had an ironclad contract to dance in the U.S., with non-compete clauses and threats of legal injunctions requiring she honor her commitment or stop performing all together. As the main financial support of her sisters and widowed mother, Markova had no choice. But she managed to stay connected to her loved ones through weekly shipments of goods that were rationed in wartime London.

By splitting travel expenses with close friend and fellow prima ballerina Alexandra Danilova during the war years, Markova was able to send more rations and money home to her family.

By splitting travel expenses with fellow prima ballerina (and best friend) Alexandra Danilova, Markova was able to send more rations and money home to her family during the war years.

That necessitated two things: careful budgeting of her meager wages, and inventive packaging to insure delivery. From The Making of Markova: “I would always ask what the shortages were and I remember the one time, they said lemons. . . . You couldn’t get lemons. I went out and bought a lot of lemons, and I thought how are we going to get them through? Customs will take them first, probably. So what we did, we got a whole lot of old sweaters that looked like awful old shabby things and filled the arms with the lemons and rolled them up . . . and we sent them over to the family.”

Though metal was severely rationed during the war, Markova shared her allotment of hairpins with the ballerina bun heads back home.

Though metals were severely rationed during the war, Markova shared her allotment of hairpins with the ballerina “bunheads” back home.

Markova also made sure to send “necessities” like hard-to-find lipsticks for her sisters, with ballet shoe ribbons and metal hairpins going to needy “bun heads” at the Sadler’s Wells Ballet School. “Bobby pins! We couldn’t get anything like that,” famed British ballerina Beryl Grey later told Markova. “We were so excited and grateful, and so touched that you were thinking of us.”

“An extravagance is something that your spirit thinks is a necessity,” proffered British philosopher Bernard Williams. One might agree that a fur coat is a prime example. But that wouldn’t be true for early 20th century ballet dancers. Winter tours throughout Europe, and later the United States, often required extensive journeys in unheated trains. It was a bone-chilling experience. In fact, Anna Pavlova caught pneumonia when her touring train broke down in a frigid snowstorm, causing her premature death within weeks.

Fur coats were truly a necessity for ballerinas during frigid cross-country tours. (Here Markova, Danilova, and Mia Slavenska.)

Fur coats were truly a necessity for ballerinas during frigid cross-country tours. (Here, the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo trio of Markova, Danilova, and Mia Slavenska.)

When the 14-year-old – and penniless – Markova was accepted at the Ballets Russes, a generous, well-traveled friend of the family had one of her own fur coats cut down and remade for the tiny dancer, knowing she would need it. Later, Markova learned how valuable that gift really was. It wasn’t just the unheated trains. Dancers often spent hours on wind-swept, icy rail platforms waiting for luggage, costumes and sets to be loaded or unloaded. A lightweight fur also served as a soft mattress, warm blanket, and even a public relations tool. After lengthy trips on bumpy railcars, ballerinas hardly looked their best when arriving in a new town. Markova noted that donning their fur coats made them look glamorous to the press, even when they could barely keep their eyes open.

Markova was repeatedly asked to have her ethnic nose "fixed" throughout her career.

Markova was repeatedly asked to have her ethnic nose “fixed” throughout her career.

There was one “necessity” Markova staunchly opposed throughout her career. She was repeatedly advised to have her ethnic nose bobbed so she would look “prettier” – and more importantly – less Jewish.

When Markova began dancing, classical ballerinas were all Russian, and Jews were not allowed to attend the Maryinsky ballet school in St. Petersburg. In fact Jews weren’t even allowed to live in cities like St. Petersburg and Moscow without special permits. Anna Pavlova was Jewish, but hid that fact throughout her career. Even when she was world-famous, she was afraid of losing fans if her religion became public in such anti-Semitic times.

Alicia Markova felt differently. Not only did she refuse to have her prominent nose “fixed,” but she was also openly vocal about her religion, becoming a great source of pride in Jewish media circles throughout Europe and the United States.

Markova's prominent profile was later celebrated by fashion magazines, such as thisVogue photo by John Rawlings.

Markova’s prominent profile was later celebrated by fashion magazines, such as this stunning Vogue photograph by John Rawlings.

IMG_3136Markova would become the first Jewish – and first British – prima ballerina assoluta in history, and a role model for young dancers all over the globe. “Necessity is the last and strongest weapon,” wrote Titus Levy in ancient Rome. For Markova, honoring her religion was that kind of necessity.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Markova Strikes Up the Brand

02 Thursday Jan 2014

Posted by Tina Sutton in Uncategorized

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Alicia Markova, Alina Cojocaru, Art Buchwald, Ballet Brands, Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo, Ballets Russes, Basildon Bond stationery, Benjamin Millepied, Brooke Bond Tea, Cadbury Chocolates, Charlie Chaplin, Craven 'A' cigarettes, David Hallberg, Diaghilev, Dior, Doris Barry, Dying Swan, El Al Airline, England's Potato Council, Erik Bruhn, Farnsworth Television, Galina Ulanova, Gap, GeneKelly, Grand Ballet du Marquis de Cuevas, John Rawlings, La Cross, Laurence Olivier, Leonide Massine, Les Sylphides, Leslie Caron, Louis Arpels, Margot Fonteyn, Maurice Chevalier, Michael Cooper, Morlands footwear, Natalie Osipova, Natalie Portman, New York City Ballet, New York Herald Tribune, Ninette de Valois, Peter Maag, Polina Seminova, Reader's Digest, Roslyn Sulcas, Royal Danish Ballet, Royal Mail Lines, Royal Winnipeg Ballet, Sadler's Wells Ballet, San Francisco Ballet, The Royal Ballet, Van Cleef & Arpels, Vivien Leigh, Vogue magazine, YSL, Yuan Yuan Tan

Markova's career independence streak started in the 1930s.  Here in Nijinska's House Party (1936).

From a shy dance prodigy at Diaghilev’s famed Ballets Russes, Markova would become the most independent prima ballerina of her generation.

Brand new year – brand new you, tout January advice columns. But while “you are your own brand” is a decades-old business mantra, it’s a relatively new phenomenon in the high-culture world of ballet.

Natalia Osipova astounds with her jumps in the air - and from company to company

Natalia Osipova astounds with her jumps – both in the air and from ballet company to company

Call them footloose and fancy-free agents – a new generation of ballet talents who maintain “jeté setting careers,” according to a New York Times article by Roslyn Sulcas and Michael Cooper. “A wave of international ballet stars are increasingly leaping from company to company, creating their own brands and becoming more like world-traveling conductors and opera stars. In doing so, they are upending ballet’s traditional professional path and changing an art form long defined by national styles that dancers perfected as they grew up with — and stayed loyal to — a single company.”

Markova in mirror - older

But “upending ballet’s traditional professional path” is not a new phenomenon. Over 70 years ago, Alicia Markova startled peers by becoming the first, and only freelance prima ballerina of her generation. As the London News Chronicle reported in 1955, Markova “is to dance what Menuhin is to music, but unlike the violinist, she has no competitors in her field, for all the other leading ballerinas, from Fonteyn to Ulanova, work in the framework of established companies. Indeed, it seems as though Markova may be the last of her kind – the ‘rebel’ dancer who is prepared to carry the full responsibility for her career on her own delicate shoulders.”

"Ballet Brands" David Halberg and Polina Seminova . (photo: Andrea Mohin/New York TImes)

David Hallberg and Polina Seminova dance for more than one company. The New York Times calls them “Ballet Brands.” (photo: Andrea Mohin)

Not only was Markova’s declaration of independence far ahead of her time, but her motivations were equally remarkable, and quite different from today’s “rebels.” As celebrated dancer Alina Cojocaru told the Times, “Ballet careers are relatively short and require years of training that pose the risk of injury, yet the world’s top dancers earn far less money than their counterparts elsewhere in show business. Belonging to two companies or making numerous guest appearances increases earning power.”

Paris Opera Ballet Director Benjamin Millepied sniffs the air at YSL

Paris Opera Ballet Director Benjamin Millepied (and husband of Black Swan star Natalie Portman) sniffs the air at YSL, and has made a television commercial for Air France.

Also increasing dancers’ earning power – not to mention name recognition – are advertising endorsements. More from the Times: “top-level dancers, thanks to social media and advertising contracts, are increasingly able to capitalize on their own brands. Ms. [Polina] Semionova recently appeared on billboards alongside the tennis star Novak Djokovic in a Uniqlo advertisement; Mr. [Benjamin] Millepied has appeared in advertisements for Dior and Saint Laurent; Yuan Yuan Tan, a principal dancer at San Francisco Ballet, is a brand ambassador for Van Cleef & Arpels and Rolex. ‘Why can’t a ballerina be as public as a tennis figure?’ asked Sara Mearns, a principal dancer with New York City Ballet.”

San Francisco Ballet principal dancer Yuan Yuan Tan shines for The Gap

San Francisco Ballet principal dancer Yuan Yuan Tan fills the salary Gap with ads

Why indeed? Appearing in a mainstream Gap ad introduced San Francisco Ballet dancer Yuan Yuan Tan to a whole new audience, potentially leading to higher ticket sales for her performances. But such tie-ins are not modern concepts. A century ago, the legendary Anna Pavlova happily endorsed Ponds Vanishing Cream for a tidy sum: “I find it is very good for softening and whitening my skin,” she claimed.

But Markova topped them all as an international brand magnet for a wide variety of products. Hers was a household name around the globe, and advertisers continually came calling to borrow a cup of the ballerina’s fame.

Markova's signature "Dying Swan" made audiences all over the world swoon. (1950, © Gordon Anthony)

Markova’s signature “Dying Swan” made audiences all over the world swoon. (1950, © Gordon Anthony)

As New York Herald Tribune columnist Art Buchwald wrote in 1953, “Miss Markova, considered by many as the greatest living ballerina, and by others as the greatest ballerina who ever lived, flew to Paris to appear in six ballets . . . Because of her fame, experience, and talent, she is one of the few ballerinas in the world who can free-lance, go where she wishes, do what she wants and demand the salary she believes she justly deserves.”

Markova on tour in South Africa

Markova on tour in South Africa

Though she became the highest paid ballet dancer of her time, a pile of money was not Markova’s objective. “We come from a family of inventors and pioneers and this spirit seems embodied in Markova,” wrote the ballerina’s sister and frequent business manager Doris Barry. “As often when she could accept a lucrative engagement in London or New York, an offer comes from a new national company struggling to establish itself, and though she knows it means physical discomfort from climate, hotels, etc., we find ourselves in a plane and my sister turns to me and says, ‘Well, here we go again – another new country to conquer.'”

Markova's image enhanced sales of a 1958 Paris orchestra concert album of Les Sylphides, one of her more famous roles.

Markova’s image enhanced sales of a 1958 Paris orchestra concert album of Les Sylphides, one of her more famous roles.

Markova was an egalitarian. She thought ballet should be for everyone everywhere, no matter where they lived or how much money they made. She used her sizable earnings not to buy a country home or luxury residence – she lived with her sisters in a rent-controlled flat in London! – but rather to subsidize her far-flung travels and charity work. When the Royal Winnipeg Ballet asked Markova for help raising funds for their deeply in debt company in 1954, she didn’t hesitate. RWB member Betty Farrally fondly recalled that Markova “took time to teach and coach the dancers, and when the costumes for Les Sylphides failed to meet with her approval, she dug into her own pocket and paid for new top layers.”

Markova was a favorite of fashion photographers like John Rawlings of Vogue

Markova was a favorite of fashion photographers like John Rawlings of Vogue

Cadbury came calling after discovering Markova's addiction to chocolates

Cadbury came calling after discovering Markova’s addiction to chocolates

Though Markova was called the “spirit of the air” by dance critics, it was her down-to-earth interviews that endeared her to the public. So while she was often photographed wearing couture fashions and jewels for style magazines, it was mainstream, rather than luxury, advertisers that sought her endorsement. (Markova’s romance with the dashing Van Cleef & Arpels scion Louis Arpels being a different sort of endorsement entirely.) As early as the 1930s, Markova was approached by a popular chocolatier: “Cadbury chocolates keep you on your toes!” says famous ballerina.

An apple a day, or perhaps a potato? (Photo by Dorothy Wilding, 1955)

An apple a day, or perhaps a potato? (Photo by Dorothy Wilding, 1955)

Even more amusing was Markova’s serving as an unpaid spokesperson for England’s “Potato Council.” That’s right – potatoes! It seems the ailing British agricultural industry was desperately in need of a boost when Markova revealed to a London newspaper that she ate a steak and potatoes after every performance to get her energy back. A lightbulb went off in “spudville,” and a new impresario was born: Potato Pete, a jovial cartoon drawing that “presented” an elegantly dressed Markova in a promotional brochure offering up her favorite potato recipes.

IMG_2659Markova’s exceptionally beautiful hands and feet starred in two different ads, one glamorous, one not so much.“Whose hands are these?” inquired La Cross fine nail polish. Markova “was talented to her fingertips,” came the playful answer.IMG_2662

A similar question was posed by Morlands footwear, with the headline “Whose famous feet are these?” But Morlands didn’t design fragile glass slippers – just practical sheepskin-lined boots. The copy began, “In my walk or should I say dance of life,” says Alicia Markova, “a cold can spread calamity,” going on to extoll Markova’s sensible approach to winter footwear. A writer for World’s Press News wrote of the ad: “Testimonial advertising has never been my cup of tea. But this ad does it so cleverly, that I think my next slippers will be from Morlands.”

IMG_2652But perhaps the best use of Markova’s name and passion was in an ad for Basildon Bond stationery. “I chose the ‘Bunch of Amateurs,'” says Alicia Markova, read the headline. The body copy continued: “In the autumn of 1931, my life was at a crossroads,” says Alicia Markova. “I could either go to join Massine in his world-famous Ballet Russe De Monte Carlo, or I could join Ninette de Valois as Prima Ballerina at Sadler’s Wells in the embryo Vic-Wells Ballet. Superficially Massine’s was the more attractive offer, but I wanted to prove that ballet could succeed in Britain, so, after much thought, I wrote to accept Ninette de Valois. Some of my friends laughed at me for joining, as they put it, ‘a bunch of amateurs in the suburbs.’ But the laugh was on them. That ‘bunch’ put British ballet on the map and became eventually the brilliantly successful Royal Ballet, renowned throughout the world.” You never know which of your letters may turn out to be important, Basildon Bond concluded.

Los Angelos Times crossword puzzle.

A Markova-themed Los Angeles Times crossword

Markova in the "50 of the Greatest Britons" commemorative card set

Markova in the “50 of the Greatest Britons” commemorative card set

The range of brands asking to be associated with Markova was mind-boggling – everyone from Reader’s Digest and El Al Airlines to Farnsworth Television and Craven ‘A’ cigarettes (though the health-conscious ballerina never smoked). Before the internet and social media, it’s hard to imagine the worldwide recognition of Markova’s name. Her image was featured on postcards, in crossword puzzles, and as one of Brooke Bond Tea’s collectible “50 of the Greatest Britons” picture cards (alongside the likes of Winston Churchill, Charles Dickens, Lewis Carroll, Florence Nightingale, and George Bernard Shaw).

Markova and sister Doris shipboard bound for a European booking.

Markova and sister Doris crossing the Atlantic by ship

Royal Mail MenuA frequent trans-Atlantic ship traveler, Markova soon found her photo on the Royal Mail Lines menu. She was clearly an appetizing entree.

And Markova’s fame was hard-earned. Unlike all her movie star friends – from dancers Gene Kelly and Leslie Caron, to fellow Brits Charlie Chaplin, Laurence Olivier and Vivien Leigh – Markova didn’t appear in films that reached millions of viewers internationally. The prima ballerina personally traveled the globe performing to sold-out crowds in a startling number of countries, an impossible feat had she not chosen to self-manage her career.

Markova and Erik Bruhn made ballet history in Giselle, 1955

Critics went wild for  the pairing of Markova and Erik Bruhn in Giselle (1955). Markova was 44, Bruhn, 26

“It is usually believed that guest ballerinas invited to appear with major companies have an easy time in comparison with the day after day performances of the regular stars of those companies,” reported Dance News in 1955. “But just take a look at Alicia Markova’s schedule for the next two months and see what she has lined up for herself.” The list included a BBC production of Giselle in London with the 18-years-younger Danish star Erik Bruhn, partnering with Bruhn again in Copenhagen for the Royal Danish Ballet, performances at Stockholm’s Royal Opera House, a gala opening of the Grand Ballet du Marquis de Cuevas in Paris, and the opera season in Chicago. For that same time period, she had to turn down offers from Helsinki, Amsterdam and Brussels, but made sure to attend the annual children’s hospitals charity ball in Deauville, performing with friends Gene Kelly and Maurice Chevalier.

The Markova comic book - a ballerina super hero for the next generation of bun heads

The Markova comic book: a ballerina superhero for the next generation of bunheads

Markova was a much loved and revered brand if ever there was one, but her most cherished fans were too young to understand the concept. They were all the ballet students who took lessons with a photo of the great Markova up on the wall for inspiration. Perhaps a few of those bunheads owned the comic book at left, illustrating Markova’s trials and tribulations on the way to becoming a ballet superstar.

Even without a cape, Alicia Markova could leap tall buildings with a single bound!

 

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Toe to Toe with Alicia Markova

01 Monday Apr 2013

Posted by Tina Sutton in Uncategorized

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Agnes de Mille, Alicia Markova, Cecil Beaton, Duchess of Windsor, Henry Leutwyler, John Rawlings, Marlene Dietrich, Salvatore Ferragamo, Vogue magazine, World War II

From photographer Henry Leutwyler's book "Ballet."

From photographer Henry Leutwyler’s book “Ballet”

Just after finishing my biography of Alicia Markova, I came across a photography exhibit on ballet at the Foley Gallery in New York’s Chelsea art district.  Swiss-born photographer Henry Leutwyler had been given unprecedented access to the backstage goings on at The New York City Ballet, capturing, as a New York Magazine review stated, “uncommonly raw backstage images.”  The amazing photos are now out in book form, appropriately titled simply “Ballet.”

The image that I couldn’t get out of my mind (seen at left) graphically illustrates the wear and tear a ballerina’s foot is subjected to in the process of creating seemingly effortless steps on stage.

That photo, and several others like it, made me even more in awe of the ballerina I had been researching for the past four years. Despite a dancing career that spanned five decades, not to mention grueling daily performance schedules unheard of today, Alicia Markova always prided herself in having milky white, unblemished feet.

Markova's foot photographed by fashion photographer John Rawlings for Vogue magazine.

Markova’s foot photographed by fashion photographer John Rawlings for Vogue magazine

Vogue fashion photographer John Rawlings immortalized one of those feet in an editorial spread for the magazine. In addition to the spectacular shot of Markova in a dramatically draped de la mode gown (seen below), Rawlings had the idea to show off a rather pricey bracelet and pin by using Markova’s flawless foot and graceful leg as if a natural wonder growing outdoors. (Photo at right.)

Someone else who was completely taken with Markova’s feet was a local masseuse she visited while on a lengthy tour of Johannesburg, South Africa. Following a session of therapeutic muscle treatment, he asked to make a plaster cast of her foot in lieu of payment. It was the most beautiful he had ever seen, she was told.

John Rawlings fashion photo of Markova for Vogue magazine.

John Rawlings fashion photo of the lithe Markova for Vogue magazine

Shoemaker to the stars Salvatore Ferragamo agreed. He once announced to the national media that the impossibly chic Alicia Markova had the “most perfect feet in the world.” Admittedly, he said that about more than one celebrity client, including the Duchess of Windsor and Marlene Dietrich. But Ferragamo added that Markova’s feet were “strong and lovely and startling,” as hers certainly took the most physical abuse and remained unmarred.

American dancer/choreographer and writer Agnes de Mille was a student at the London ballet company where Markova was the reigning star. From the first time she saw Markova rehearse, de Mille was dumbfounded at her fragile appearance and astounding technique, not to mention her preparation for the stage, including care of her feet. De Mille wrote the following in her book Portrait Gallery (1990):

“She is utterly feminine but as incorporeal as a dryad. Her slenderness, her lack of unneeded flesh, is a rebuke to everything gross in the world. The tights are held taught by elastics and tapes that wrap around her 21-inch waist. Her toes are swatched very exactly in lamb’s wool to prevent shoe friction, and the priceless little mummies are then inserted in the flawlessly clean satin boxes which are glued to her heel (Pavlolva used spit in the heel of her shoe – this is an old tradition; Alicia uses LaPage’s glue – it is stronger) and the ribbons sewn. She has to be cut out of her shoes.”

It was a good thing Markova took great care of her size 4 ½ feet. They were so tiny and seemingly frail, insurance companies refused her coverage. And her big toe was almost twice as long as the others, also perceived as problematic. When Alicia Markova stood en pointe, she was literally supported by a single toe.

Markova en pointe, photo by  her friend Cecil Beaton

Markova en pointe, photo by her friend, photographer Cecil Beaton

During World War II, Markova was performing in the United States and greatly admired all the women factory workers supporting the war effort while their boyfriends and husbands fought overseas. She offered them the following advice in many newspaper and magazine interviews: “hot Epsom salts foot baths and exercises. . . . For best results, pick up marbles with your curled toes – master the trick and find how good it makes your feet feel!”
Clearly, it works.

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