"In life, as in art, the beautiful moves in curves"

Performing arts occupy a very special place in my soul, prompting the creation of paintings and drawings, exploring it in many different ways.

The quintessential place among those is taken by one discipline: the Ballet. I don't seem to have enough of it, and was never able to fully stop - sketching, thinking, admiring and painting, painting it again, no matter how many exhibitions I had on the subject. It doesn't come as a surprise then that I get asked a lot – by the press and viewers alike – what prompted that special interest? was I a ballerina myself? Where do I get all these scenes and inspirations? Will I be revisiting the subject again?...

Some answers to that are simpler than others. Starting from the end: yes, certainly, more will be coming (I don't seem to have any control over it, they just do!) The scenes and fascination came from as far in the past as I can remember – going every Saturday to the fairy-tale Opera Theatre in the big city where I lived; admiring the gold-leafed sculptured ceiling, the chandeliers, the red velvet of the seats and balconies, and then the magical music coming from the Orchestra pitch directed by the conductor – and then, finally, the fairy like half-people half-angels defining all the rules of physics and just flying in their magical moves on stage. I loved it. I didn't understand it – I just followed my heart, and it was saying that whatever I was seeing was very nice indeed.

Years passed. Nice memories of the childhood lived in my soul. And then, following my destiny, I joined the Republican Art School of Fine Art. It was a boarding school for gifted kids from all over the country, and a part of a 3-way institution based at the same campus: State schools of Fine Art, of Music, and of Ballet.

Life seemed very happy then. We knew only too well how fortunate we were to be chosen to study there, a small number of kids hand picked from all over the huge country for their ability by the unforgiving State which wanted to present itself in the grandest way and therefore supported all the best talents it could find. We didn't care about the politics of it all – we were young and happy, working hard at perfecting our skills, and never forgetting to find fun everywhere we looked. Part of life's little pleasures was running to the Ballet school on a break and stuffing ourselves with the most exquisite little desserts full of whipped cream and other yummy treasures, which the ballet students themselves were not allowed to have. They had to carry a little book of stamps, and only once a week or so were they allowed to trade a stamp for one of those wonderful desserts that their canteen had in such abundance. So, we thought their loss was certainly our gain – not that it did any harm to our own teenage bodies which were still fast growing – and so, the Ballet building of our campus was the favourite place to visit whenever we had a free minute (which, thankfully, was not that often).

And this is how a very different story, and a very different take on the Ballet began for me, and never let go. All three schools had the boarding facilities for out of town kids. But a lot of us with families in the capital were attending as day students, being picked up by parents at the end of the day. And so, while stuffing ourselves on those beautiful Pavlova and black forest cakes, we saw pictures that made our jaws drop. There were fathers carrying their little daughters – aged 8-11 or so - in their arms to the cars. The girls could not walk – their little feet were literally dribbling blood, big toes looking as if they have been through mincing machines - they were at an age when girls start moving to the hard cork point ballet shoes, and that was the price to pay for being able to carry all one's body weight on those. Ever seen professional ballerina with the open sandals on her feet? I don't think so. The truth of what years of dancing on points did to their toes would be too shocking, too unpleasant to beauty lovers who think they know much about Ballet. I believe by concealing those, they are saving us from the truth and the reality of it...I learned a lot about Ballet since then. The shocking truth and the sacrifice, not only the beauty.

And so, this is where my fascination comes from: not the girly pastel colours, the sparkles, the tutus and the magic of crystal chandelier-lit theatres. It comes from respect for men and women who create magic for us on stage in the profession that is listed as number 1 – and ahead of mining! - in the list of the most physically demanding jobs. To the ladies who fly in the air on stage in their jumps and in the hands of their dance partners. Who keep smiling up until they run into the curtains only to fall, half-conscious, into the hands of their support staff, sports physiotherapy specialists and sometimes even doctors, to be dropped on the floor there and then for those few precious minutes of the intervals between dance numbers; to be worked on by those specialists while hidden from view; To be sent back to the stage full of smiles and fairy-like moves, tears and sweat wiped and never revealed.

My respect is just as big for the men of this profession who don't have to wear the points, and got mocked so often for choosing the 'girly' trade – the men who can easily lift a grown woman above their head with one arm while still smiling to the audience, the ones who can jump as high as Olympic athletes and have more dry working muscles on themselves than most of the sports athletes we know. They do all that not when they feel ready – they do it to the precise beat of complex music pieces, now, ready or not. THIS IS where my respect is coming from. To the profession that takes so much courage that is hard to put in words. To the creation of such beauty through never revealed pain. To the strength of the human spirit, and love of perfect form. If they say that architecture is music frozen in stone, then ballet - to me – is the height of human spirit put in moves. Hats off to those who give it to us so selflessly. Bravo!... And heartfelt apologies for enjoying ourselves so much while watching all the beauty you create and blocking the thoughts of the price every one of you pays for creating this illusion.