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Essais / Esssays
Dans la même rubrique イヴォンヌ・カルチエの生涯 The life of Yvonne Cartier (1928-2014) オーギュスト・ヴェストリスとはどんな人だったのか The One and the Many - When the Many is One too Much Nicola Guerra (1865-1942) Enrico Cecchetti’s ’Days of the Week’ Piotr Frantsevitch Lesgaft (1837-1909) « Précipiter une nouvelle ère poétique » Qu’est-ce l’étirement ? How valuable is the Cecchetti Method in ballet training today? Qui était Auguste Vestris ? ’L’en-dehors dans le marbre’ (The Turnout, as it appears in Marble) Le Satyre dansant de Mazara del Vallo se pose au Louvre « Danseur noble » ou « danseur de demi-caractère » ? Kick-Ass, or Jackass?
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Spoken in Silence
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Elisabeth Maurin
vu par Edgar Degas en 1873 |
In very many respects, the ruling classes in certain powerful Western nations do now closely resemble that faction which, in the uproar attendant upon the 1917 Revolution, very nearly prevailed in Russia- a faction exulting in the spilling of blood, in unchecked power over one’s fellow man, and vandal, in its contempt for centuries of thought and labour.
Someone must stand up and say No.
Strength of resolution, dissolving into one fiery moment the course of a lifetime’s thoughts. That is Elisabeth Maurin, like Ulanova proof that man is not only bone, tissue, sinew, vein, and animal liquors, but a thinking feeling particle of universality. The sway she holds over the public, the unending ovation on June 29th 2005, was not a triumphant explosion, that final satisfaction that, on quitting the stage, one carries off like carrion to feed upon, but an understanding from heart to heart - Von Herzen - moege es wieder zu Herzen gehen, of what her entire career has been about.
I am sorry that I am not a poet to sing Maurin’s praise, but there are poets and so John Keats writes,
Knowledge enormous makes a God of me.
Names, deeds, grey legends, dire events, rebellions,
Majesties, sovran voices, agonies,
Creations and destroyings all at once
Pour into the wide hollows of my brain
And deify me, as if some blithe wine
Or bright elixir peerless I had drunk....
Hyperion, 1820