Space of choreography in Leningrad; we came to recognise them in person. In 1984, I was given a room at the Philharmonic Society and my own ballet class. In the early 1990s, I prepared ‘Farewell to the 20th Century’, based on the passing century’s popular music. I drew on Jewish customs, as these traditions greatly influenced Belarusian culture. On demonstrating ‘Bobruisk Pictures’ in Moscow, Igor Moiseev was our special guest. How do Belarusian and Russian dance differ? When creating an ensemble, I aim to bring Belarusian choreography to the
its own drama and appearance. We told audiences about the life and traditions of Belarus through our dances. From where do you take original material? Do you make folklore expeditions? When I was working with my husband in Mogilev, we often visited weddings and festivals. I remember there was a concert at the opera theatre, with participation of a female band from a kolkhoz. Everyone went out for dinner, but these sat backstage to eat. One of the women suddenly went to dance and she used movements I’d never
explain to my artistes that they represent the whole nation. Previously, all who arrived in the West from the USSR were considered to be Russian. For foreigners, there was no difference between Belarusians and Uzbeks. However, when we entered the stage, everyone was surprised, saying that our performances greatly differed from the ‘Russian pattern’ of balalaikas, red shirts, crackers and prisyadka (a step in Slavic folk dancing in which the dancer squats on their haunches and kicks out each foot alternately). People wondered what Belarus
level seen in Russia and Ukraine — maybe even higher. In the 1970s, there were great groups, which really astonished me: Igor Moiseev’s Russian Ensemble, Iliko Sukhishvili and Nino Ramishvili Ensemble of the Georgian National Ballet and, of course, the Ukrainian National Folk Dance Ensemble (named after P. Virsky). In Belarus, their performances were merely restaged and resung in new ways. After arriving in Belarus (I was born in Russia), I immediately saw how wonderfully Belarusians dance and dress and how melodically they speak. This greatly differed from Russian and Ukrainian traditions. I began to set up an ensemble, reflecting national characteristics of the Belarusian nation, encompassing the Belarusian spirit. I noticed gestures and expressions of rural performers and used them to inspire my work. With its first programme, ‘Khoroshki’ toured Ukraine, proving a great success. Our programmes couldn’t be confused with others, since each dance was a mini performance, with
thought of before. It was enough for me… and this was only one example. I’ve seen a dozen similar small groups and have borrowed something from each; I have a photographic memory. What inspires your costumes? As soon as our first programme was launched, I began to think about costumes. I went to the Academy of Sciences and asked for documents on Belarusian costume but they had very little information. I then decided to apply to Leningrad’s Opera and Ballet Theatre and folk museum, studying piles of historical documents. For example, I couldn’t copy Ukrainian costumes, as this would have lacked authenticity. You’ve toured all over the West. How did people there perceive Khoroshki and Belarus? Since 1975, we’ve been touring abroad annually, as part of the Friendship Society. No one knew of Belarus before we arrived, but they praised our dancing. I told my dancers: ‘You should behave. We live in Europe, we are Europeans!’ I always
was all about. After 1986, we often visited Italy and earned money for the Chernobyl Foundation. Interestingly, people from all over Europe arrived to see ‘Khoroshki’. By Vitovt Pismenniy
2011 беларусь.belarus
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