JOY KRAHNKE
The courtyard of the Chateau de Versailles, where ballet was born under Louis XIV in the mid 17th century.
Joy Krahnke was introduced to ballet at Heart to Toe Studios under her mother. She went on to train at Stroia Ballet and Central Minnesota Music School in St. Cloud, MN. She considers a handful of private lessons given her by close friend Elizabeth Basham, who was studying at Belhaven School of Dance, to be among the most valuable lessons she ever received.
But even with this training, she considers the book Intro to Ballet Technique to be what truly made her as a teacher. She finds that students respond better to the stringent disciplines of ballet if they know the why, which that book explains like no teacher ever did. She gives lessons on anatomy as a part of her curriculum, explaining to students why they must pay close attention to the boring parts of ballet or they will never achieve the soaring heights and continual twirls to which they all aspire.
Joy remembers the difficulty of staying focused on ballet training as a 12-year-old, of how she quit ballet twice because it was “too much work.” But the older she got, the more she was drawn to the strict archetypes of classical ballet, the harsh rules which created gorgeous lines, and the way a simple adjustment to posture could completely change the story she was telling. Even the perfectionistic nature of ballet took hold over time, as the idea of never reaching ballet perfection allowed her to settle into class with patience and serenity.
Joy strives to inspire students to this same appreciation for discipline, which creates clean lines, which creates clear stories, which can impact the audience in a powerful way. She believes that in a world where instant gratification is the normal, patiently studying ballet is counter-cultural.
MY HEART FOR BALLET
Perfect ballet cannot be achieved. It is strict unceasingly. And yet it is beautiful even in its most unpolished forms. It asks all and then takes what you have. It demands impossibilities and then smiles on your efforts. It's about obeying the rules and following the principles, not achieving an end. There is no “success” and “failure.” It's just “down the road” and “down the road further.” Anyone can do it, no one can perfect it.
I find ballet's structure comforting. It gives me security when I dance. I always know what I'm going for. There is a right answer, and not anything goes. It tells you when you're doing it right, and when you're not achieving balance, extension, or gracefulness, there is always a logical reason why. It is always there, waiting patiently for those who want to work hard enough to achieve it. It requires more than one talent. Memory, coordination, strength, and flexibility are all pushed and challenged. To the audience it looks like flying, to the new student it appears like quantum physics, and to the experienced dancer it breaks down into two plus two plus dedication. I never cease to enjoy pulling back the curtain for students, revealing the WHY which ballet unfailingly provides. All of ballet's structures serve a purpose, mirroring to me the body of Christ and each of our vital capabilities. Without turnout, we would have no extension. Without alignment of the rib cage, no balance. And its guiding principle is the simple question, “Is it beautiful?” It's so practical and spoken from the heart of every human being. It isn't art for art's sake, it's art for beauty's sake.
Moreover, it is an art that is not satisfied with the ground. Just as the dancer always searches for greater extension, higher jumps, and longer balances, the art form itself never seems satisfied until it has left the ground, always lengthening through the spine, extending the arms, rising onto pointe. And yet students of ballet know that balance is DOWN. Lifting all parts of the body and spine mean you'll fall over instead of appear to momentarily fly. The lower spine lengthens downwards, and the pelvis becomes an anchor, mirroring the relationship between imagination and realism, between a red balloon and the paperweight that keeps it from sailing away only to get stuck in some tree.
Ballet is kind to the smallest student, and yet it doesn't protect anyone from the consequences of not adhering to its rules, like a good parent. Ballet creates the long, lean body I'm always looking for, and yet its simple tendus each week seem so small at the time, like little healthy habits do in life. Ballet is unpretentious. It doesn't let the proud get too proud. Every ballet class begins with plies and tendus, for the prima ballerina and the four year old at her first class. Every grande jete breaks down into a series of basic movements, every fouette requires nothing more and nothing less than the alignment which should be present in the simplest tendu. Ballet teaches me that even the smallest movements in life should be performed with the same excellence and skill as the large ones, and that if you do enough of the small ones the right way, the large ones will seem easy.
Ballet is the basis of all the basics, and yet it can take you to the top. As the hardest and strictest form of dance, its path can take you the farthest. Its precepts form the basis for several other forms of dance, and even sports like football look to ballet for the wisdom of its simple but powerful movements. In ballet, everything shifts slightly. Even standing in first position is a movement, because of the subtle action of a variety of muscles which prepare you for sudden movement in any direction. The only thing that doesn't shift is your shoulders. The only muscle that doesn't ever tense is your trapezius near the upper spine. Ballet wants your shoulders to be as they should always be, relaxed and poised, reflecting confidence and restfulness, even as you give your all to the art and the dance and the feeling of taking flight.