Karinn von AroldIngen: A Balanchine Disciple

There is an old family tradition in the ballet, that what is learned from the master or mistress is passed down by the principal dancers to the little ones. That tradition was brought from Russia to the United States by the late George Balanchine, the master choreographer of this century, and he encouraged his favorite dancers to keep it alive.

And so, endowed with his legacy, a dozen or so of his principal dancers have become disciples, teaching his style and preserving his ballets all over the world. A few, quite literally, were endowed; he left the rights to about 100 ballets he felt were worth something to a handful of friends.

"I am of the first Balanchine generation, the first generation after his death. It is an enormous, important responsibility," said Karin von Aroldingen, formerly a New York City Ballet principal dancer. She lives in Southampton and Manhattan, and was, at the end of Balanchine's life, the favorite among his favorites.

A Legacy

"I still want to dance sometimes but I owe something to the second generation, as do we all." She said she feels enormously grateful to see there is a strong second generation of Balanchine disciples.

Peter Martins, whom Balanchine named to replace him as Ballet Master-in-Chief, is, like Ms. von Aroldingen, of the first generation. Mr. Martins has a 30-year-old son, Nilas Martins, who, like his father, began dancing at the Royal Danish Ballet School in Copenhagen and became a principal dancer at New York City Ballet.

Ms. von Aroldingen inherited the rights to six ballets - "Serenade," his first American ballet and the most popular, as well as "Liebeslieder Walzer," "Stravinsky Violin Concerto," "Une Porte et Un Soupir," "Vienna Waltzes," and "Kammermusik No. 2" - and, as a trustee of the Balanchine Trust, travels all over the world staging his productions.

It was long before his death, though, that Balanchine coaxed her into preserving his legacy. When she was in her mid-20s, and still an active soloist, the ballet master convinced her to teach 8, 9, and 10-year-old girls in the School of American Ballet, which he founded in 1934.

Also A Painter

"I told him no. How could I teach? I was still dancing. And girls that small, they have no concentration. But he told me that is the way it was done in Russia."

Buried in Oakland Cemetery in Sag Harbor, Balanchine died in 1983. He lived for a short time in the Canterbury Mews in Southampton, having bought an apartment there across from Ms. von Aroldingen and her husband, Morton Gewirtz.

They now live off Flying Point Road, with an armoire in the foyer that Balanchine painted himself in brightly colored, whimsical Russian style and watercolors and pastels on the walls, equally vivid and colorful, painted by Ms. von Aroldingen.

"We dancers are not at all intellectual. We like color and music and beauty and excitement."

She said she studied during layoffs from dancing at the Art Students League and laughingly recalled how she once tried to paint a scene from the biblical story of the prodigal son, which had also been made into a ballet. Her teacher thought the better of it and suggested something on a lighter theme.

Her repertory of vibrant flowers and landscapes was shown last season at the Millennium Gallery in East Hampton.

Ironic Death

Forty-nine years after Balanchine founded the School of American Ballet, now one of the most prestigious in the world, he died, ironically, of a mysterious ailment that repeatedly tipped him off balance. It was not diagnosed as Jakob-Creutzfeldt, known these days as mad cow disease, until some time later.

Barbara Horgan, who was Balanchine's secretary for many years, encouraged him to write a will so the rights to his ballets would not revert to a brother still living in the then Soviet Union. Balanchine's style was anomalous there and, being the legacy of a defector in any case, could have even been banned as counter-revolutionary or confiscated by the Government.

After his death, Ms. Horgan created the Balanchine Foundation, an educational organization, and Ms. von Aroldingen became the ballet mistress and a trustee of the Balanchine Trust, which protects his name by acting as a clearinghouse for requests to stage his ballets.

A Strong Mentor

More than 800 productions have been staged worldwide since his death, overseen by a network of roughly 15 of his principal dancers. Ms. von Aroldingen herself has worked in mainland China, Korea, Africa, Australia, and across the United States.

"We have such a strong network that I know nothing will be lost in my lifetime. Balanchine was like Stravinsky. They said now is now, I don't care what's after me. But we care."

Her immense loyalty to his work stems from her regard for the work but also for him. He was her mentor, recognizing her talent, helping her to develop into an important dancer, then encouraging her to extend the dancer's all-too-brief career by teaching and staging ballets.

As she wrote in "I Remember Balanchine," a collection of memoirs written by dancers, friends, and other associates, he was also a substitute father - and a bit of a mother sometimes too.

A "Good Dictator"

They cooked grand feasts together, spent holidays together with her family here and with her mother, who lives now in the mountains outside Salzburg, Austria, and, according to biographers, it was she whom Balanchine called for in his last days.

"He was a dictator in a sense but in a good sense. He used to tell me, 'I could give you food and even chew it for you but you have to swallow.' He didn't like change. He made adjustments. He gave us artistic freedom to interpret; if I wasn't good at turning to the right we went to the left."

And, they were both emigrees. Her family, originally from Berlin, was evacuated during the war to Griez, in former East Germany. She was born there in 1941, the second of three daughters. Toward the end of the war, her father, a scientist, went to meet a group of professors in Czechoslovakia. He never returned, and his disappearance remains a mystery, she said.

Only To Dance

After the war, her mother one by one brought her three daughters back to West Berlin and they lived there, in rather somber circumstances, with relatives. Ms. von Aroldingen recalled hearing music that made her want to dance when she was 9 years old.

"I never played with dolls. I always wanted only to dance," she said, adding there was no money for ballet classes after her father's disappearance.

So, she auditioned at a private ballet school and was awarded an eight-year scholarship. At 10, she was chosen from among 200 girls to dance the title role in "The Little Match Girl," a film that continues to be shown in Europe around Christmastime.

Trained in the classical Russian tradition, but also in modern and folk dancing, she passed her state exams in dance theory and history at 16 and joined the corps of the modest American Festival Ballet for an eight-month run.

With Lenya

At the same time, Tatjana Gsovsky, who ran the Frankfurt Opera Ballet and was the wife of Victor Gsovsky, a respected ballet master and choreographer, also attempted to hire the teenager.

"I was so young, it was such an honor, but I had to tell her I already had an engagement. She thought I was snotty," shrugged Ms. von Aroldingen.

Madame Gsovsky persisted, though, hiring her a few years later to share the lead role in a stage production of Kurt Weill's "Seven Deadly Sins" with Lotte Lenya. The voluptuous redhead, known for her throaty cabaret style, sang the part of Anna and Ms. von Aroldingen danced it, the two of them emerging on stage under the same black cape.

It was an honor for the 17-year-old newcomer; Ms. Lenya was a major star in those days and was singing Anna for the third time - she first sang it in the original, groundbreaking production in 1933 and, later, in 1958 in New York, with Allegra Kent, the prima ballerina.

To New York

Two years later, the singer ar ranged Ms. von Aroldingen's first meeting with Balanchine, an audition in Hamburg in 1962.

"I was absolutely terrified. I fell off pointe. I was shaking. But Balanchine said later he had X-ray eyes and could see through the nerves."

Two weeks later, she received a letter inviting her to tour the U.S. with the New York City Ballet. She accepted, wiggling out of her Frankfurt contract with a fabricated elopement.

"I didn't speak English. I found it very hard to communicate when I got to New York. But, after all, dance is the universal language," she said.

Still, her training in the Russian style - muscular, strong, and firmly grounded - conflicted with the highly refined and highly musical Balanchine style. She had to learn technique all over again but her long, slim physique, which would have been considered an unathletic anomaly by the old school, fit perfectly the swan-necked, swift, and hyper-extended profile of the Balanchine ballerina.

Last Performance

"There was a saying about Balanchine, that he could see music. The steps, the dancers, the costumes, the sets - everything was the music."

Her first appearance was as a monster in Stravinsky's "Firebird," and her second as a demi-soloist in Bizet's "Symphony in C."

"I did demi-solo parts but I was not technically a soloist for five years. The parts and the titles did not matter to me in any case. I only wanted to dance."

In 1972, she was named a principal dancer, for whom Balanchine especially created 18 roles. The first was the female lead in an abstract ballet set to Stravinsky's "Violin Concerto," where she danced "an incredibly acrobatic" pas de deux with Jean-Pierre Bonnefous.

"Violin Concerto," which she danced many times and was bequeathed to her, was her favorite, and it was to become the piece she requested for her final performance; she retired from dancing in 1984, a year after her teacher and mentor died.

Choreography

"He knew us better than we knew ourselves," said Ms. von Aroldingen, adding that the roles he created for her - in, among others, "Who Cares?" "Vienna Waltzes," "Kammermusik No. 2," and "Une Porte et Un Soupir" - and the 50-odd other roles for which he chose her were versatile, deceptively difficult, and often highly romanticized.

Many of them also involved waltz music, and she recalled one critic who labeled her "the empress of the waltz."

In addition to coaxing her to teach, Balanchine asked her in 1976 to stage a ballet for him. Again she protested that she was not ready to do anything other than dance. Again Balanchine prevailed.

"He said, 'No dear, you have eyes and a body!' " She chose "Liebeslieder Walzer," Brahms's love songs (and, of course, waltzes) played by four piano voices - soprano, mezzo-soprano, bass, and tenor - and completed the choreography in just three weeks.

On The Road

"It was hard. The waltz needs two people, and I had to learn how to dance the boy part. I used a little girl small enough to lift as a stand-in for the girl part. But Balanchine knew I could do it. He put me there . . . but he never complimented much."

She eventually had to stop teaching altogether; his ballets are in such demand that she is constantly flying from one production to another. The Star caught her between Birmingham, England, and Salt Lake City, where Ballet West will perform "Violin Concerto."

"It is characteristic of Balanchine that his works look so easy to perform but, technically, they really are very, very hard. I sometimes have to suggest that a young company pick an easier ballet," she smiled, adding later that "I could just say no but I never do. Balanchine belongs to the world."