#italian fouette

[ballet-symphonie]

I drove myself up a wall yesterday testing out some combos and your post on Italian fouettés ended helping me up a bit with some of the odd moments where you go “oop i don’t feel that you know how to fully go through the choices made” to yourself 😅 It did get me thinking, there is a fairly common variation where you do a singular and I can’t remember it for the life of me for some reason

Glad my post helped you out, italian fouettes are tricky. At the moment, the only variation I can think of with a single Italian fouette is the Bolshoi's Sugar Plum/Princess Masha?

Please remind me as I'm sure I've forgotten something super obvious.

[curiosity-killed]

despite the fact that, for at least 14 years, my Notable Dance Ability™ (to the point that every single new teacher and friend AND the artistic director I last auditioned for have to comment on it and/or make me demonstrate) is That Girl Can Jump, I've never thought much about being naturally good at it aside from joking about my thighs but now I'm trying to figure out how to teach kids the progression from like baby jumps to fun jumps and my brain is just like well. you just. you Just Do It. that is All.

[sallowsswan]

🌸Mattheo Riddle w/Ballerina Gf Headcanons pt.2🩰

Because YES I love the idea of our angy bad boy having a ballerina for a girlfriend!

We left off with him taking her out for mani/pedis after long lessons/classes/rehearsals to pamper her because she's just so wonderful??

Finds ANY excuse to put his hands on her legs because he's just obsessed with them. Manages to get away with it by giving her leg massages. (Though secretly she loves seeing him obsessed with her)

Finds out almost immediately that ballerinas can get violent with their pointe shoes. He walked into the studio one early afternoon during a time he knows she'll be on break and sees her BANGING the crap out of her shoes against the staircase while wearing headphones. (Look up Isabella Bolyston in TikTok for a great example. Dancers may do this to make the shoes 'quieter' on stage)

This boy makes a mental note after witnessing that to never piss his girl off because seeing her beat on those shoes with a smile on her face was scary, yet also hot??

Loves and I mean LOVES to see her practicing certain steps like arabesque, or Italian fouettes. His eyes darken a little when he sees her focus and move her legs in those positions. (Gif is of famous ballerina Alina Somova. Seriously look up her performing Queen of the Dryads!)

Mattheo would be a complete German Shepherd with her. Loyal, affectionate, protective and sweet, but if someone looks at his girl the wrong way or tries to approach her with ill intentions? Back. Up. He will have no problem putting a person in their place or getting his hands dirty to protect his little dancer.

Always makes sure she's getting enough nutrients and is eating healthy. Does NOT want her to fall into that statistic where some girls don't eat properly and deal with body dysmorphia. (PLEASE DANCERS FUEL YOUR BODIES AND TAKE CARE OF YOURSELVES! ♥)

Tries so damn hard because he doesn't want to make her uncomfortable or feel awkward but grows to have a thing for her in leotards and tights.

She immediately introduces Mattheo to her partners for any Pas De Deux she'll be dancing. Wants him to get comfortable with the idea that these guys are just her dance partners and to not freak out when they hold or touch her it's all professional. In fact, this is how Mattheo meets Enzo! (Shoutout to @abaker74 who commented with that idea I LOVE it!)

Shows up to EVERY performance she has. She has to sit him down and talk to him about etiquette when going to the theatre to view a ballet performance. He still shows up, for any minor or major roles she has, and there's moments where her eyes lock on his and it's all she needs to feel on top of the world.

Brings her flowers. Every. Time. After a show, when she walks out he's standing there with a bouquet of her favorite flowers and immediately pulls her into his arms kissing her cheek "I'm so proud of you my little dancer. "

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Technique–bodily control - must be mastered only because the body must not stand in the way of the soul’s expression. The only reason for mastering technique is to make sure the body does not prevent the soul from expressing itself.

La Meri

One of the most striking sequences for the Swan Queen is her series of 32 fouettes in Act III of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. Odile, the dangerous but seductive anti-heroine, returns to the stage near the climax of her grand pas de deux with the hero, Prince Siegfried, and revolves on one leg 32 times. Moreover, after the first 16 bars, the music changes character; she carries on regardless.

“Fouetté” is French for “whipped,” and it’s that whiplash motion of the raised leg that gives the turn its brilliance. That quick up-and-down of the ballerina’s foot sometimes sends her traveling downstage; but the ideal sequence of 32 fouettés never travels from a single spot. A ballerina whips one leg in a circular motion to the side and then into a passe while turning and rising on and off of pointe on the standing leg. In other words her raised leg, never touches the ground, but provides most of the propulsion. Men can do fouetté turns, too. But part of the excitement with a ballerina is that she does most of the turn on point.

The 32 fouettés aren’t the hardest assignment in ballet, but they’re the most exposed example of virtuoso technique. If something goes wrong, the audience will see. I remember one ballerina falling flat on her backside around turn No. 14 and several who stopped (or switched to another step) after about 20.

Italian ballerina Pierina Legnani first performed 32 consecutive fouettes in a performance of Cinderella in 1893. When she originated the role of the Swan Queen in Marius Petipa and Lev Ivanov’s version of Swan Lake in 1895, Petipa added in the 32 fouettes specifically for her.

Performed by the Black Swan, Odile, the spellbinding turn sequence effectively demonstrates the power and drama of the dark side of the Odette/Odile dual role. Legnani’s legendary performance of the fouette sequence as the Swan Queen set the standard for ballerinas to come.

It's surprising to learn that some great ballerinas who avoided doing them: Anna Pavlova, Alexandra Danilova, Alicia Markova, Maya Plisetskaya did alternative steps. Margot Fonteyn, who delivered them for over 34 years in Swan Lake, laughed in her memoirs about how an American critic described her wandering path during them as her “Cook’s tours of the stage."

 Let's be clear performing 32 fouettes in a row represents the incredible skill, technique, and control of a prima ballerina. The step requires strength and stamina that can only be gained through years of dedicated ballet training. Even more than a century after Legnani’s balletic feat, the Swan Queen’s 32 fouettes continue to captivate audiences in productions of Swan Lake worldwide.

But I will whisper it quietly that I agree with one ballerina friend of mine at the Paris Opera Ballet that it can be boring to watch. Not the technique but the spectacle. The rare artist is not the one who does the most turns but the one who makes them interesting and, above all, musical.

Amandine Albisson, Danseuse étoile de l’opéra de Paris, dances as Odile in the Opera Paris production of Swan Lake.

[canyouhearthelight]

Machine is Perfect, but Flesh is Free Intermission

This chapter is longer than either of the previous two, and if I am correct, it is possibly longer than both combined. So hopefully that helps make up for the amount of technical things around dance that appear. For anyone who wants full context of what is going on: 1) the MC is dancing a deliberately more difficult variation of the Yuka Fukuda solo of Esmeralda.... which is already difficult enough. Every step happens on a beat, and there is not a lot of music for the piece and NO room for error, because the dancer has to kick a tambourine. Our MC is doing these kicks over their head rather than above it, which I think I have seen one dancer do only for the first portion. You can just search "Yuka Fukuda Esmeralda" to see the real one. 2) "The Fouettes" (fweh-tehs) refers to the Odette solo from Swan Lake. It is notoriously one of the most difficult passages to dance in ballet, and is also referred to as "The Thirty Two Fouettes". Spin spin spin, identically... it's exhausting, and it hurts. But if you have bionic legs and feel no pain when performing, you can imagine how boring it sounds. I swear I'm not disparaging the passage, but our MC experiences none of the things that make it hard. 3) There are two main versions of the fouette (the spin, not the passage), Italian and Russian. It actually takes less time to look up a video than listen to an explanation, and people have BIG opinions about which one is better.

All that said, thanks to @baelpenrose for making it through all these explanations the first time when I was writing it. On with the show!

For several weeks following my interrupted performance, I lived in the rehearsal studio with next to no contact from anyone except Urus and the doctor. Even M. Russo was banished from his place of power, and from the shouting I was barely able to hear through the door, he was incredibly displeased about the situation.  Urus grumbled about having to bring me meals and throughout the newly added watching me while I ate. No more solid foods, only some perfectly nutritious and perfectly flavorless concoction with a texture between porridge and puree.

Two weeks into my seclusion, my surly warden finally slipped, just a bit. “Food like that for every meal, I would dive in front of the next bullet,” he muttered.

I coughed, startling him.  Waving him off, I shook my head. “Bullet?” I gasped, trying to clear my throat.

He handed me a cup of water. “What about a bullet?”

The bowl of nutrients was set on my lap so I could turn my head and scowl at him. “The doctor said the bullet missed someone entirely the night I was brought here, and you just mentioned jumping in front of one now. I’m not deaf, no matter how much everyone likes to pretend I’m some windup doll. What bullet?”  It was the most words I had ever spoken directly to him, and from the look on his face, I had caught him off guard.

“Someone tried to shoot you while you were performing,” he explained slowly. “With a gun.” One hand dropped to his hip where he kept his holstered.

“Me?” I blurted out in shock. “Why? I’m not important, just a toy. Not even a pet.” I pitched my voice up as far as I could. “ ‘Wind up the little ballerina, let them dance’.”

That earned a more familiar sneer. “Poor little pet, to be kept so expensively and lavishly that you don’t even need to walk anywhere for fear of bruising your feet.”

“Yes, my pretty little golden cage.” I lifted the bowl and swallowed the contents as quickly as I could, wincing as I refused to let it come back up. Gasping as I finished, I held it out. “I’ve eaten. Your punishment is done for now.”

He ignored me for several minutes, until my arm was burning and shaking. I refused to beg or acknowledge our standoff until the bowl was removed from my hand.  As soon as I heard the door lock behind him, I let out a deep breath. Inhaling again and bracing myself, I slowly flexed my feet.  Pain spiked up through me, but I grit my teeth and focused on breathing with every movement.  The most recent treatments from Master Arik made it impossible for sweat to bead on my forehead, but my eyes and mouth felt feverish when I stopped for the water that was always within arms reach.

The memory of dancing - leaping, kicking, flying - warred with how quickly I was brought to exhaustion by the pain from something as simple as flexing my ankles and feet.  Since M. Russo was not allowed in the studio while I was being kept here, there were no rehearsals and therefore no need for nerve blocks, leaving me in full pain with every movement of my legs.  After another drink of water, my anger was burning hotter than my body. “Kick,” I commanded my legs. But only so fast, my teacher’s voice echoed in my mind as I strained against my own body to lift one leg, and to resist the urge to drop it.

“Again.” Breathe. My body could do this - had done this. Again and again. Only so fast, only so high, I reminded myself. Limits. When my eyes and mouth were hot again, I stopped for more water and to cool down. Another limit. 

In the ten winters I could remember being here, I had been very aware of my situation, but Urus’s comments today had been the first time I realized that perhaps I was the only one other than Master Arik who was aware. Clearly, Urus thought I was a pampered thing - what if he did not realize what the injections were?

I worked persistently at my own mobility, and it seemed that every small success woke my mind even further.  Where I had surrendered, been complacent to my existence of agony with brief rewards of relief when I behaved, now I was suspicious and curious of everything.  I was increasingly aware of how long it was taking to secure my personal quarters, where the studio had taken only a day or so.  Plots and accusations lurked in every corner of my mind that suddenly had light shining in them - why did the serving people never speak when they attended me before? Why was Urus assigned to me and me alone?  Surely Arik had other trophies - why had I never seen or heard of them?

Instead of keeping time by the things done to me - baths, meals, rehearsals I was led to and from - I began marking time by what I could do. I could slowly kick my legs five hundred times in a row each before needing to stop for water.  I could hold both feet in front of me for fifteen minutes at a time without assistance, ignoring the sharp electric razors spiking through them without a headache.

By the time I was released from my isolation in the studio, I could hold my knees to my chest with only the muscles in my legs and stomach  for an astonishing five minutes.  I had not dared to stand, but was contemplating the attempt when the locks on the entrance slammed open and Master Arik entered, accompanied by Urus and three other guards.  My back was to the door and viewing glasses, but I still dropped my feet quickly to their rests in my chair before even his brisk step could come around to face me.

“It is a good day,” he started without preamble. “Full of good news.  The man who tried to kill you has been executed, and your new quarters are finally ready.”

“Kill me?” I asked stupidly.

He waved my concern away. “Someone sent to hurt me by stealing you, once your value became known.  Thankfully, you were not injured, but measures had to be taken.”

Was I so valuable that someone would kill me to hurt him? I doubted it, but he seemed quite certain, so I nodded along. “And new rooms?”

“And a new insurance policy,” he assured. “To reflect your new value.”

Urus nodded towards my bedding and personal effects before grabbing my chair. Mechanically, I followed the script that was ingrained in me. “And my parents?”

“Compensated to reflect your rising stock,” Arik responded. Where before I had only been concerned that my family was not starving, now I was suspicious that the answer was equally rote and mechanical to my question.

With that, our accustomed exchange had ended, and Master Arik was supervising my removal from the studio space, ignoring me again.  I focused on keeping my features slack and dull, but this time I paid as close attention as possible to what was being said around me.  I learned I was being taken to the second floor, not the third - apparently my quarters had been on the third floor.  The studio, I found out, was on the fourth.  Instead of the sloped corridors, I was to be taken by elevator, which was a luxury I had never been afforded, but was apparently more secure.

Despite my new rooms being further away, the journey was far shorter.  The doors, like the ones on the rehearsal space, were keyed to the genetic pattern Master Arik’s doctors had placed in me.  Only he, Urus, and the doctor could enter without an escort - and myself, obviously, but it was left unsaid that the idea of my leaving under my own power was laughable.  The poor paper dancer could not walk, after all.

Once we entered, Arik turned with his arms extended, a smile on his face. “The walls have been reinforced, the windows filled and shuddered on the exterior with plates. To ensure your safety, obviously.” Leaning over, eyes cold, he flicked the end of my nose, his false grin never budging. “No need for cameras anymore. Any and all items and persons to enter and leave will be checked and accompanied by security.”

No windows. No more birds. No more clouds. A more secure cage than ever.

My face must have betrayed nothing that concerned him, as he stood and clapped his hands once. “Sleep tonight, and tomorrow you will perform.”

I shook my head, confused. “Perform? Not rehearse?”

He clucked his tongue. “You still need to complete your performance as Esmeralda.  It will be in the studio, and only myself and M. Russo will be in attendance, but you will be recorded so that your stock can be valued.  It is not ideal, but it will have to suffice.  Currently, your value is contingent.”

“I understand, Master Arik,” I muttered numbly.  I understood nothing, except that I had no say in the matter.

Striding to the door, he turned to Urus, who followed at his elbow. “Have dinner brought and have them bathed properly. They will be dressed here in the morning and brought to the studio for exhibition.”

—-

After a nearly sleepless night, I was roused from a fitful half-sleep by the lights in my quarters being turned on - no dawn noises, no slivers of sunrise, just a sudden bright pain stabbing through my eyelids.  Groggily, I allowed myself to be washed again, shoved into my costume, makeup slathered on my face.  My nerve blocks were not applied until after I heard the thud of the studio doors securing behind me, M. Russo pointing to my mark with his baton.  Rather than listening for the warm ups of the orchestra, a recorded track was played as it had been in any rehearsal, although this time without M. Russo counting me off.  Nonetheless, I stepped and kicked as intricately as I had intended to when it had been a theater of people watching rather than my teacher, my master, and who knew how many cameras. Each motion as controlled and flawless up close as it would have appeared from a balcony, each sounding of the tambourine measured and equal to the rest.

I finished, face impassive, without any applause.  Instead, Master Arik drummed his fingers on his seat, head tipped to the side. “It is a beautiful and dangerous interpretation,” he frowned.

“It is a traditional one,” M. Russo responded carefully. “A difficult one, to demonstrate their skill.”

“A kick like that could kill a man.”

A gruff laugh followed. “Only by breaking his heart. The feet are too fragile for anything more. They can hardly walk without your permission.”

Arik nodded, but seemed distracted. “I will have the footage released for valuation. Uncut, I think.”

“To cut it is to imply imperfection. Release all of it. There are no flaws to hide.”

“We shall see.” Standing, Arik nodded again. “Russo. The fouettes next, I believe.”  WIth that, he left.

No sooner had the door shut again than I was peeling out of my costume, inspecting my feet. M. Russo did not even pretend to look away - he made no secret that his interest in my body was perfunctory at best. “No blisters,” I reported, disgruntled.

“Mme Boulvais is much more careful than her predecessor,” he agreed. “And the softer shank made a difference.  But shorter in the right shoe for the next performance, I think. You were barely over the box.”

“Those toes are shorter,” I agreed. “And the ankle bends further. But the fouettes?” I pinched my face.

M. Russo seemed to agree, tossing his hands in the air. “You can leap like a cat, you can kick as though you have no bones, but he wants you to twirl in place for heavens only know how long.”

“I can do them Russian,” I suggested, feeling more mischievous than I could recall feeling in my entire life.

He gripped his baton like a sword. “I will cane you from the top of your head to the soles of your feet if you do even a dozen Russian fouettes before my eyes.  And then I will ask Master Arik to gouge them from my head so I may never see such a travesty again.”

I smiled softly, stretching deeply and grabbing my toes. “He said my Esmeralda was dangerous. That the kicks could kill a man.”

From behind, I heard my teacher scoff. “I would agree if you did not need medical magic to merely walk. A kick like that could break a man’s jaw at least, snap his neck at worst. But as you would never kick me like that, and cannot even stand to attempt it when you are elsewhere, it is a vain fear.”

I hummed, hoping he would take it in agreement.  It seemed he had, as by the time I stood again, he had resumed his teaching posture. “Go ahead. Show me your fouette. Ten to the left, then ten to the right.”

Automatically and without music, I started. Traditionally, the passage Master Arik was requesting used identical turns to the right, but we rehearsed with both to err on the side of caution.  Arik was known to add or change something at any time if he felt it was something new.  By the end of the day, both of my calves stung from being struck to correct their height or how soon I did nor did not whip my leg out - M. Russo had not been joking about his insistence on Italian over Russian.  As the weeks progressed, more and more turns were added, along with various surfaces for me to balance on for precision.  A strange tool was brought to ensure that my legs were at exactly ninety degrees, a position I had to hold for as long as ten minutes at a time.

By nights, I was standing under my own trembling power for just as long.

Unlike in the past, rehearsals went on for nearly half a year.  Increasing levels of difficulty were added, in theory to explain the time it was taking.  In reality, I overheard my security discussing the increased measures to make Master Arik’s keep more and more secure, to make the performance hall doubly so.  The idea made me feel melancholic rather than secure, and I avoided analyzing the feeling too hard with my newfound inquisitiveness.  Most importantly, the next performance was intended to be ‘exclusive’ as an excuse to limit any chance at another incident, and all staff were undergoing intensive background screening and medical analysis.  My own medical exams went on the same schedule as before.

After all, I wasn’t staff - I was property.

[lemonsweet]

Angel: oh nimbo I just don't think I was meant to be

Nimbo: I can do a italian fouette

Angel: . for real ?

[meguu-mi]

italian fouettes

[uselessdancedata]

https://youtube.com/shorts/zdHud4BCQkQ?si=p_N70-mULUaGs3rM it's just one jump and no music but it could be from Queen of dryads?

I think that one is paquita from queen of the waters! they're structured pretty similarly (the sequence in the beginning, plus the ending italian fouettes) but you can tell that it's paquita by the last attitude devant before she gets interrupted. now that you've sent me this I remember that she performed that paquita variation at yagp finals in 2023 :)

she really does have good lift in her jumps!

[jacklyndougherty]

Italian Fouette Jacklyn Dougherty #italian #fouette @jacklyndougherty #balletterm.

[ballet-symphonie]

Aurora Act One was my first repertoire variation, and I’ve always considered it an easy one (I’ve only ever danced it on demi-pointe, though). I was wondering if you could break down the reason why you considered it one of the hardest? I agree with most of your list but would definitely add Queen of the Dryads (Italian fouettés are the bane of my existence)!

I think the variation is so challenging because it's so deceptively simple. There's nowhere to hide in that first. If you're not on your leg for all the pique arabesques, it looks clunky and awkward really quickly. The hops on pointe can also look heavy and painful, instead of light and floaty. If you don't finish your pirouettes exactly on the music, it looks immature.

As far as your Italian fouettes go, maybe check out the post I wrote on them and see if any of those ideas help!

[noconsenttobeanerd]

Lio Ballerina AU

[steebtiny]

agnes letestu being the best performer of the third shade variation from la bayadere in the history of ballet is a fact.

[ballet-symphonie]

Only some of these are nice. Illushkina has a weak devloppe, her leg has a heavy effect when being raised to ecarte. Her attitude position is not correct and she is hopping all over the place. The ecarte does not have correct epaulment or a consistent height.

Mativenko’s fouettes are...interesting. Because, although she has a strong devloppe, she is doing devloppe directly de côté and with no epaulment. However, she still does the port de bras like it was supposed to be ecarte so the step is unclear.

Shipulina’s supporting leg also travels a lot and here ecarte position varies a lot. She is also filmed at the worst angle of the videos here. The rest are good.

Maia Makhatelli has really great ones. Musical, strong leg positions, stable supporting leg and exclusive epaulment.

This should surprise exactly no one but Maria Alexandrova also has nice ones, at a very quick temp too!

Alina Somova’s are perhaps the smoothest. There is no ugly jerk to transition from the attitude back to to écarte. Her relève is so stable and turned out. The only thing to nitpick is the improper right arm placement, her arm and leg should not be crossing in that port de bras.

Why does literally almost every ballerina mess up Italian fouettes (or are Italian fouettes ugly-looking in general). Like I think I've only seen two ballerinas dance this element well, ever.

I mean, I personally think they’re just ugly lol.  But the main issue most dancers have is staying on the music.  The arrival of the foot at the end of the grand battement and the attitude derrier is always off for all of them and it looks horrible.  Here are some beautiful executions of them:

Viktoria Tereshkina (obviously), Gamzatti: https://youtu.be/giAn0LMc_Xc?t=62

Maria Iliushkina, Queen of the Dryads: https://youtu.be/QIxeJnAJlI8?t=84

Anastasia Matvienko, Gamzatti: https://youtu.be/uvU7tAgimbU?t=807

Ekaterina Kondaurova, Queen of the Dryads: https://youtu.be/kZQ1O6AZK-g?t=77

Marianela Nunez, Gamzatti: https://youtu.be/-JJ21wrOQvg?t=753

Ekaterina Shipulina, Gamzatti: https://youtu.be/hXVTytOnv6o?t=1352

But yeah, other than that I’ve never seen good ones.  

[bladesofyuri]

19!

19. fallen down in class?

I royally wiped out in ballet once. It was only my second or third time to ever try Italian fouettes en pointe and I’d apparently not used enough rosin. Both legs just slipped right out from under me and I landed on my butt so hard I almost bounced.

My teacher almost wet her pants from laughing so hard. 

I’m sure there were plenty of other times, but that’s the one I really remember. It was a cartoon-level wipeout.

[countess-of-edessa]

keenan kampa wasn’t so bad you guys were just mean

[seokjins]

.