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The Museum's Ballet

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I’m standing on marble floor, in a familiar place. A place where I create stories through guidelines artists from Monet to Picasso have left me. This museum consists of a variety of art collections such as modernist photography, ancient Greek and Roman art, 20th-century American art, and contemporary art. There is nothing I enjoy more than getting lost in an exhibit or the garden of statues. The idea of seeing art made hundreds to thousands of years ago overwhelmes me. These are world treasures and part of everyone’s past. Even though, the museum is like a new world being discovered, there is one room and one room only that I can completely disconnect myself from reality and imagine a story behind the masterpiece. The early impressionism room.

The marble floor is white, the walls are white, and the space brings a coolness to the air. I’m standing in front of a wall not even making a single sound or movement. My body is frozen, except my eyes are wandering. In front of me stands memories of my childhood. I remember seeing it for the first time when I was 6. Another time when I was 10. And another time when I was 15. There it is. The Star by Edgar Degas. The piece of art that made me want to create art and protect art. It lays on the white wall, making it the most breathtaking wall in the world. It never moves, just stays there for years. Even though it’s position might not change, it changes the lifes of the observers by presenting it’s beauty for now and always.

I, the observer, locate the eyes of the dancer. The two eyes match mine. Her serious face begins to lighten as a smirk appears upon her face. As this happens, she has just landed her grand jeté and the crowd applauses her accomplishment. She begins to put her toes on pointe and takes the most graceful baby steps swiftly with her hands reaching for the sky. She breathes in and out to make sure her body is ready to continue. She points her eyes to the red curtain that is located in the stage’s wings. She must not let a single word and action distract her concentration. She takes one more breath and lifts her right leg up and spins it around her body. She does this with her left. Again with her right and the pattern of the shanay turn continues. She moves like nothing can touch her and that she has overcome gravity by appearing like she is gliding across the stage. She stops and her body isn’t dizzy as one expects. Her body is used to this. As the audience expects her to be unable to spin more, she begins her pirouettes. Her face turns sharply to the point of concentration, the red curtain in the wing. Her endurance captures the audience’s attention. Every eye is on her. People watch her like she is the only object in the room. They don’t notice the person in front of them, they don’t notice the vendor, they don’t notice the eye catching architecture in the theatre, they don’t even notice their lover. All attention is on her.

She knows her stage time is running out and her confidence is strong enough to do the grand finale. Another breath in and another breath out. One step at a time, she develops her speed. She builds the expectation of her leap and keeps forming her momentum. Then finally she lifts her feet off the ground and begins a grand allegro. Her face is lifted to the sky and she lets her memory do all the work. She lands it and the audience applauses. She knows her seconds of the spotlight are slowly fading away and she must keep them hypnotized. A cavalier comes on stage and it’s time for her to do the most difficult ballet move known, the Rose Adagio. Her arm shakes as the cavalier holds it and she goes into an arabesque. She slowly comes down from it and she looks into the eyes of the cavalier. Her performance was one of her best by the way his eyes are doing the talking. She smiles and gracefully tiptoes to the center of the stage and curtsies. Without thinking, the audience stands up and roars with applause. A shower of roses turns into a flurry around her. She looks at me just like she first did and smiles. She walks back to where she first stood when she just landed her grand jete. The roses disappear and the crowd sits down. It is like nothing happened and she looks at me again. She nods her head in a friendly way and smiles. Then, her face, the audience, and the scene freeze.
I came back to reality. Just me and a painting. As I regain my conscious, I realize all the time that has past. Before I begin to walk away, I take one more look and smile.





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fms888 said...
Dec. 13, 2011 at 5:19 am
Can't wait for the next one....  These are Awesome!
 
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