Talent?

A teacher who danced as a Principal with NYCB once had me demonstrate a combination at barre and then told the class, “Taylor is a good role-model for you to watch for musicality. It’s one of her gifts.” Another teacher from the Bolshoi Ballet years earlier told a class, “Taylor is the most musical student I’ve met.” Even earlier than that, a teacher said she could really see the music in my body. If it seems like I’m bragging, I’m not. Each of these teachers are the same ones who have (on multiple occasions) rejected or ignored me based on physical limitations.

More recently, a better teacher said to me something along the lines of, “You know, as dancers we all have our gifts. I never had any gifts…and you’re the same way!" While perhaps this comment should have made me cry, it actually made me laugh and reconsider what it means to be “gifted” or “talented.” (This teacher is quite different from the others. Instead of pitying my awful, flat feet and then moving on, she helps me to improve and work with what I have.)

In a world of beauty, perfection, and art, the words “talented” and gifted” are tossed around as often as the ladies in tutus. As common as these adjectives are, they seem (to some) to be the highest of compliments paid to a dancer. As long as you are “talented” you are likely to make it in this business. But what constitutes such a gift? What is this thing called talent? We know it if we see it, but is there a way to truly describe it?

I believe that, because our bodies are our sole tool in this discipline, that our physicality is often confused with our talent. So many dancers are blessed with the typical ballet body: long limbs, arched feet, 180 degree turnout, and never-ending flexibility. These physical gifts of hyperextension, rotation, and proportions, determine our facility as dancers.

The School of American Ballet, which boasts a student body of the epitome of this aesthetic, describes these virtues in its admission requirements. “The School is selective in admitting new students and renewing their enrollment from year to year. Applicants must be young enough to derive the maximum benefit from their training, enjoy excellent health and have an anatomical structure suited to the demands of classical dance: a well-proportioned, flexible, coordinated body, legs that easily adopt the turned-out condition, and a high instep. They must also possess musical aptitude and a natural gift for movement (SAB website).”

Most of these factors are truly limited by what we are given at birth. True, our muscles and bones are not completely formed until the adolescent years and can be molded accordingly until a certain age, but by and large our physical structure is predetermined. If, then, a student is born with these golden gifts, does that automatically suggest that they possess talent?

I think this question is greatly misconstrued in the ballet world. I have heard about and experienced many an audition where literally all they do is take a look at you and decide whether to keep you or not. As a performance art there is a necessity for some judgment of the outside, but there tends to be an automatic assumption that if you do not have the perfect legs and feet then you lack “talent” and the ability to dance well in general.

Besides the perfect arabesque line or sandwich-tight fifth position, there are other “gifts” that may more appropriately be considered “talent” because they do not rely exclusively on body type. What would a ballerina be without balance, coordination, stamina, strength, poise, presence, athleticism, ballon (the French term for the ability to bounce like ball, necessary for petite allegro), fluidity, and musicality?

Perhaps SAB and the rest of the ballet world summarize these factors in the end of that admissions description: “a natural gift for movement.” Why, then, do they go overlooked if not accompanied by the presiding physical factors? Why are they ignored until the body itself is approved of? Isn’t there something to dancing “from the inside, out”?

I think that talent should be considered more than just the perfect facility for movement. I believe it is movement itself: the ability to communicate with a body (whatever it may look like), the ability to truly show the music, the ability to manipulate time and space to create art.
There are so many people with talent that go unseen due to physical “flaws”, while there are many more (without this raw talent) taking an easy ride to perfection thanks to their gifted bodies. I’m not saying it’s necessarily easier for a good body to become a ballerina, because we all have things we need to develop and work through. It is, however, a different challenge for those of us constantly struggling with ourselves, working twice as hard to look half as good.

And not only do we have these physical limitations that we must gradually come to accept and work with, but we are almost stereotyped in the ballet world’s mind as being less than satisfactory. Though to a different degree, it is like society’s prejudice against African Americans: no matter what’s inside, all people base their ideas from is what is presented on the outside. Ballet is prejudiced against the turned-in and the flat-footed: no matter what talent sparkles inside, all people (teachers, choreographers, fellow students) base their ideas from is what is given on the outside.

I understand this is a performing art form and a certain aesthetic is required for success, but don’t you think that those of us who are less than perfect should be given a fair shot? We may not be “gifted” in terms of our bodies, but we might have talent: something that can be grown and shaped if nurtured. Talent itself is a gift, one that should be treasured just as much as turnout.