The
history of
the Compañía
Nacional de Danza is firmly linked,
in turn, to Spain's
most recent history.
This affords us
the security that
this Company is
not some sort of
test tube baby,
enclosed in a hygienic
glass bell, isolated
from viruses and
germs of all sorts,
but rather in full
contact with society,
the very society
for which it works,
to which it belongs
and to which it
owes its existence,
both for good and for
ill, since that
is how life within
a community and
there is no escaping
it. Let’s
say that the Compañía
Nacional de Danza,
advancing in the adventure
of its consolidation, has
been moving like a pendulum,
in terms of style, in accordance
with its environment. Something
similar to what has happened
to Spanish society- in the
most widely differing fields-
in the learning and development associated
with the process of its
modernization.
Also, our
lack of ballet tradition,
except in the field of
ethnic dance - which, on
the other hand, has contributed
very significantly to dance
at world level- may have
promoted a prolonged state
of ambiguity: this led
to the Company being directed
by such
diverse people, although all
specifically qualified
for the post, as Víctor
Ullate, María
de Ávila,
Ray Barra and
Maya
Plisetskaya.
All
of them proved able to
endow
the Company with a fresh
and
promising air. It was
then
striving to achieve its
own
identity, despite the
trauma
of the lack of a ballet
tradition
on which to lay solid
foundations.
This
search for an identity was
inevitably affected by a polemical
debate, which now belongs
to the past, between classicists
and modernists, which lingered
on until the eighties. This
debate harshly confronted
the jealous custodians of classical
ballet orthodoxy, symbolised
by the sacred canons of the
five positions, the patriarch
Marius Petipa, the splendid
Russian School and its Diaghilevian offspring,
with those wanting a break
with tradition. The latter,
taking Isadora
Duncan's voluble lead,
followed the paths discovered
by Ruth Saint Denis, Ted
Shawn and Doris Humphrey
and culminated in Martha
Graham's overflowing garden
- and that of her European
counterpart, Mary Wigman.
In their very fertile lands,
Merce Cunningham, Paul
Taylor, Alwin Nikolaïs
and so many others subsequently
flourished. Nevertheless,
towards the end of the
decade, the debate which
separated the two sides
became increasingly
obsolete, thanks, basically,
to two factors:
The
first factor was the wide
appeal of the so-called neo-classical
ballet, which resulted from
the spell of that wizard of
choreography, Maurice Béjart.
He scuba-dived, so to speak-
with an equal dose of versatility
and success - in the stormy,
but in the long term so rewarding,
waters of synthesis. Béjart
wrote, basing himself on
the legitimacy conferred
by the unanimous applause
of his enormous audiences
that: "One
can mix into one traditional
classicism, post-Graham
American dance, folkloric
dance, and research on
movement and space. And
all this would be modern
or not. It is only a question
of inventiveness".
The
second factor refers directly
to the consecration of postmodernism
as the surpassing of the sanctification
of the conglomerate of attitudes
that, by being excessively bold,
may become uncouth. Once a creator
breaks free of the obligation
of being modern - a constraint
like all obligations - he or she
tends to feel extensively relived
and this brings a breath of fresh
air into his or her creativity
and stimulates his or her inventiveness.
