This story may not mean much to you, but it does to me: in the midst of allegations of abuse, Peter Martins has retired from the directorship of the New York City Ballet, although he denies any wrongdoing.
Here’s more information on some of the allegations, which mostly seem to involve physical rather than sexual abuse.
In 1993, Jeffrey Edwards was a soloist with New York City Ballet when he did something radical, at least for the company: He accused Peter Martins, the powerful ballet master in chief, of verbal and physical abuse, and reported him.
“I brought a complaint to the general manager, company manager and the dancers’ union, describing Peter’s conduct in detail,” Mr. Edwards said in a recent statement to The New York Times.
The union, the American Guild of Musical Artists, confirmed that it had received the complaint. But to all appearances, nothing much happened. Mr. Martins continued in his role as leader of City Ballet and the School of American Ballet, and Mr. Edwards left the company shortly thereafter.
The next year, Victor Ostrovsky, a 12-year-old student at the ballet school, had his own run-in with Mr. Martins. During a dress rehearsal, Mr. Ostrovsky said he was horsing around onstage with other children when Mr. Martins became enraged and grabbed him by the back of the neck in what Mr. Ostrovsky called “a death lock.”
“He’s yanking me around to the left and to the right, he’s digging his left thumb and his middle finger ”” I felt like he was piercing my muscle,” Mr. Ostrovsky said in a telephone interview. “I started crying and sobbing profusely.”
I doubt any of this would have come out if Martins wasn’t already quite disliked by a lot of people.
I’ve already written about Martins and his flaws and strengths, as well as sexual harassment and other forms of abuse in the dance world, here. I’ll just add that although Martins—about whom the scuttlebutt in the dance world has been bad for at least forty years, when I first heard some of it—is not a widely-beloved figure (to say the least), his alleged behavior isn’t really so very unusual. Milder types of abuse are rampant in the dance world. A significant amount of dance training involves (or used to involve, when I was coming up) verbal abuse, although there also were many teachers who didn’t engage in it. But commenting on the body and its flaws (and in particular on overweight) was and perhaps still is so common as to be standard, and engaging in name-calling and insults certainly used to be a daily occurrence with a great many teachers.
Dancing also involves physical abuse, although most of it is self-inflicted with encouragement by some teachers and company directors and choreographers—forcing a turnout or extension, dancing on pointe till you bleed. Also, touching dancers and jerking them around harshly, sometimes enough to cause pain, is not unusual. It’s even happened to me, although fortunately not to the point of being injured. Have I ever seen anyone hit? I can’t recall, but I certainly saw treatment I’d call abusive.
Sex between directors and dancers most definitely exists, too, usually consensual although often influenced and encouraged by ambition on the part of the underling. I wrote about that before, too:
Ballet differs from other arts (and certainly from politics or broadcasting or even acting) in that the body is completely the instrument, the mechanism by which that art is expressed. There is nothing else, not even talk (as in acting). Not only that, but the way the body looks is nearly as important as the way it moves, or at least inextricably connected with it. It’s no exaggeration to say that virtually every dancer in the professional dance world is a physically beautiful person with an extraordinarily beautiful body. And even the older directors (such as, for example, Martins) have an aging version of the same, and often a personal magnetism and power that cannot be denied. It was part of the reason they were stars, although not all directors were once performers or stars…
What’s more, there’s often a lot of interaction and touching in the choreography and in the studio, even during class. Teachers touch their students all the time””that’s how they convey what’s needed””adjusting a hand, helping the dancer bend in the right direction by giving a little push, turning the head just so. Partners touch their partners all the time, and the communion between partners can be extraordinarily intimate. It can also lead to an actual romance (and of course sex) in real life””what little the dancers have of real life, that is, after the rigors of taking class and rehearsals and performances and shoe preparation and all the rest.
Company directors (the heterosexual ones, that is; I know less about the habits of the gay directors, but I’m assuming the story is not too different) often sleep with their dancers. They even sometimes marry them; Balanchine, for example, was famous for this, having married (and divorced) a whole series of them.
So the idea in ballet is not to eliminate the sex or the touching””I think that would be impossible””but to eliminate the harassment. How would “harassment” be defined in a world like that? Unwanted touching? Touching that goes beyond what’s required for the class or the choreography or the correction? Whether there is a quid pro quo for the sex: “sleep with me and I’ll make you a star”?
Some directors and some dance teachers are kind and gentle. But it’s not the least bit unusual for them not to be kind and gentle at all. And then there’s the strangeness (and intensity) of many dancers. I remember, for example, taking class in my early twenties at a large and famous dance studio (affiliated with a dance company) in Manhattan. The class was so large that we were squished together and had to turn diagonally away from the barre in order to be able to kick our legs upward. This is not an unusual practice, but it meant that at certain times—because the barres were portable, and they were pulled away from the walls so that dancers could hold onto them from both sides—I was practically nose-to-nose with perfect strangers sweating up a storm.
I recall in one particular class that the young woman opposite me started crying after getting a correction from the teacher, and didn’t stop crying for the entire barre. It was disconcerting. She wasn’t sobbing, but her tears were flowing all through the exercises (which last close to a half hour). I tried to whisper to her—although I didn’t know her—“Don’t let it bother you; it’s not worth it” or some such platitude. But other dancers near me, who knew her better than I did, shrugged and told me not to bother. “She does this practically all the time” they said.
And by the way, in the ballet world abusive behavior by directors and teachers is not limited to men. Ballet is in certain ways an equal opportunity endeavor.
[NOTE: Here’s a former New York City ballet dancer saying Martins was perfectly fine with her. I have little doubt that it’s true.
This woman also has written about George Balanchine. Her article has a glaring omission, however, and IMHO it’s one that makes the article unfair to Balanchine. She neglects to mention that at the time she visited Balanchine in the hospital and the events she relates took place, he was suffering from the disease that killed him not too long afterward, Creutzfeldt-Jakob, a brain disease that leads to (among other things) senility and personality changes. That said, before he got sick Balanchine certainly had a well-known history of sleeping with his dancers—he married quite a few of them, too.]

