Skip to main contentNot since Mary's Club introduced jalapeño poppers along with its flesh feasts has such an enticing combination of dance and nosh been conceived. Yes, amid the torpid lunchtime crowds that trod downtown in August's heat, Oregon Ballet Theatre is once again pitching its tent for the perennial two-week, open-air dance bash, OBT Exposed!
A Portland dance staple since 1995, OBT Artistic Director James Canfield strips his company down to its lovely bare bones and moves his entire choreographic operation to a revival-sized tent in the South Park Blocks and opens rehearsal to the public. Without wings or lighting, and with a stage nearly atop the crowd, this is one raw dance experience that gives West Hills suits and West Burnside sots an equal peek at an oft-off-putting dance idiom.
WW spoke with three of OBT's prime movers: Anne Mueller, Vanessa Thiessen and Katarina Svetlova, a trio of veteran ballerinas who have traded in their austere stagebound grace for chattering banter about rehearsal hazards, fast food, the belief that ballerinas are "snotty" and, of course, Canfield.
"Most of the time when you talk to people about dance they immediately say, 'I don't like ballet,'" says Mueller, who's been with OBT since 1996. "It's something they've decided they dislike without ever going. But with this program you're giving them an opportunity to see what it's really like behind the scenes." Come Monday, they and their esteemed cohorts will have all the potential converts they can handle on the grassy square behind the Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall.
Whether it's the studied ease of the movement itself or the peripheral stageside antics of the dancers that spark the spontaneous audience's curiosity, the guerrilla-dance mentality has paid off for the company. More than 20,000 people paid a visit to the en plein air show last year, and the new streetcar will probably dump even more gawkers and stalkers this time around. Just don't expect tutus and sets--this is strictly rehearsal time. With company class from 11 am to 12:30 pm, followed by rehearsal until 4 pm, the beauty of the event is precisely its unfinished nature. Caught in the act of creation itself, the company breezes through an entire pas de deux only to spend hours on one tediously specific step.
The logistics of the tent expedition make the OBT Exposed! dancers more fit for boot camp than toe shoes: The company members alternately freeze and swelter during the long practices. As for audience crimes, a mumble of agreement from the dancers targets smoking, swearing and fast food. "Just don't sit in the front row and eat McDonald's," says Thiessen. Adds Svetlova, "Bento is OK because it smells better. But it does make you want to go eat." Since the 11 am-4 pm schedule is technically termed part-time, these hard-working terpsichoreans don't get a lunch break. "Yeah," says Thiessen, "by 4, I'm ready to chew the tent."
And that snotty attitude? Thiessen insists that their blank stares during rehearsal are born of concentration, not condescension. "The way we work requires so much focus, especially learning new work, we tend to shut everything else out," says Mueller. The ever-graceful Svetlova sums it up: "If you wave to us, we're not going to wave back."
Though the demystification of ballet is a worthy aside, the dancers are just as excited to dive into their newest ballet, Canfield's female-gaze Dracula work, Lady Lucille and the Count, which doesn't gear up until the company hits the Park Blocks. "We never really know anything about the piece until we get to the tent," says Thiessen. "Actually, we never really know anything for sure until we're up on stage doing it."
The frenetic whirl of rehearsal is often a surprise for stage ballet connoisseurs, especially when Canfield throws new material at his dancers. "You'll see 17 different interpretations of the same step, and then you can watch [Canfield] actually pick a certain style out and then everybody will form to that," says Thiessen. "It's pretty cool."
Even cooler is how the event so easily replaces the fantasy perception of a corps of marble-cold beauties with the reality of talented individuals--who come complete with furrowed brows and sweaty faces. People you'd proudly share your bento with, even if they are kind of snotty.
South Park Blocks, Southwest Park Avenue and Salmon Street, 222-5538. 11 am-4 pm daily, Aug. 20-Sept. 2
WWeek 2015