I push my way through the heavy backstage door and into the hallway. A friend of mine is discussing costumes while putting the finishing touches on props. “Hey, didn’t you read the sign?” I say. “No talking. There are dancers on stage.” She gives me a warm smile and a rude hand gesture. I laugh and haul my gear back to the green room. Tomorrow night this hallway will be dark, lined with quiet dancers warming up their feet and calming down their nerves before they go through the door down to the stage. But not tonight. This is tech and blocking.
The choreographer perches on the edge of the stage in jeans. The tech crew plays with the lights. Dancers in sweats and warm-ups try out bits and pieces of their various parts in this new environment. In the wings, I cautiously test out a few steps. Coupé-dégagé Coupé-dégagé. I wince at my pointe shoes. “The floor is loud,” I say to my classmate. “We don’t sound like angels; we sound like thumping elephants.”
“Thumping angels of death,” she agrees. “I like that.”
The house lights are up. Dancers awaiting their turn are sitting here and there in the audience with their feet propped up on the chairs in front of them, stitching last minute details onto costumes and talking in small groups. Some of the little ones are sitting behind stacks of homework that they’re not looking at.
I step out of the wings and test my feet out on the stage.
This is my favorite night of the show. Up until now we’ve rehearsed in our comfortable classroom with barres and mirrors. Tomorrow night the house lights will be out and we’ll perform dress rehearsal for a small audience of family members shooting photos and videotape, and with the music and the makeup will come the nerves and the jitters. It will be down to just four chances to get it right: to nail the balances and hold the penché, to remember to stretch the feet and don the smile.
But right now, standing in casual warm ups in front of an empty audience, we don’t have to share this moment with anyone. We can enjoy what we’ve worked for without the locked-in outcome of wobbling ankles or stumbles. This is for us.
Feet on stage without prying eyes.
It’s my favorite moment.