"Hello darlings!" It’s Emma here, back from another whirlwind adventure through time! I simply had to visit the exciting world of 1942, the very year my darling grandmother, Beatrice, was born. Can you believe it? Imagine, she was just a wee tot when the world was consumed by war! This month I'm writing about the year 1942 - the second year of World War II. And what a journey it has been, through smoky London streets and shimmering American dance studios, right into the heart of wartime ballet!
Time travel is always a bit unpredictable, but let me tell you, riding Magic Meg, my shimmering pink Shire horse, into the heart of the Blitz was no mean feat! The air was thick with a smoky haze, the streets littered with rubble, and yet amidst all that hardship, I felt a surge of resilience and courage that made my heart soar. Just like the ballet dancers I encountered!
It’s hard to imagine living with constant bombing raids and shortages. You know, those pesky rations! You’d think it would bring ballet to a standstill. Oh, how wrong I was! It was even more magical than usual, actually. It was as if ballet became a beacon of light in a very dark world.
That was the heart of the story – ballet had become an escape, a chance for people to forget the horrors around them, even if just for a short time. The air was thick with a different kind of energy: excitement, hope, and the yearning for beauty amidst the rubble. And my darling pink tutu twirled effortlessly in the smoky London air. It truly became a symbol of that yearning, and a testament to the enduring power of artistry, even in the direst of circumstances.
In London , theatres had been damaged, but ballet was far from abandoned. The Royal Ballet Company (known as Sadler's Wells Ballet at the time), under the leadership of the fabulous Ninette de Valois, found new spaces, even performing in makeshift studios and bomb shelters.
I visited the Royal Opera House, which stood relatively untouched despite the bombing, a true symbol of defiance and determination. Can you imagine, performing with such grit amidst such fear? The performers had an unbelievable commitment and spirit, so admirable.
Just when I thought it couldn’t get more extraordinary, I had the joy of watching a ballet performance by Alicia Markova, the legendary British ballerina, in a theatre that was used for military drill sessions just moments before! It was absolutely awe-inspiring! Alicia Markova embodied grace and strength in such an impactful way, reminding everyone that beauty could exist even in the midst of chaos.
Across the Atlantic, ballet thrived, too. I whisked off to America on my faithful Magic Meg. Did you know, there was an abundance of performances in American theatres? There, in a swathe of bright, glamorous New York, ballet was booming. My beloved pink tutu spun joyously through the vibrant, electric, exciting, creative world of New York in 1942. It was an exciting scene, brimming with a passion for artistry, especially from Lincoln Kirstein, who introduced modern choreography by dancers such as Martha Graham to America.
Imagine, dancers dancing away while air-raid sirens screamed through the streets, wearing what you would call "everyday" clothes! The fashion I saw was absolutely delightful: women wore elegant hats, sleek dresses, and delicate shoes. But they didn’t abandon their stylish charm just because they were facing such challenging times! That’s where my darling pink tutu came in, sending a strong message of resilience and grace through the air!
* I always loved finding a bit of beauty, even in tough times. *
The War did make the ballet scene unique, as dancers left for the armed forces, there was a noticeable scarcity of male dancers. Some wonderful choreographers then started creating innovative work, making use of a smaller number of dancers and finding new and different ways of interpreting classical ballets! And the result? New ideas, unique creativity and some extraordinary dance styles! It felt as if every performance, every gesture, carried an extra depth and intensity, a sense of beauty born from adversity.
It's these little details, the stories whispered behind the dance steps, the lives they lived, and the world they inhabited – these are the treasures I fill my rucksack with, my collection of stories, photos, programs, even little bits of fashion that capture the ballet spirit of 1942. Every piece tells a tale. Every tutu embodies a dream.
As I travelled back to Derbyshire , I carried a renewed admiration for the enduring power of dance, how it could lift spirits and bring hope during a time of crisis. And it made me realize just how deeply woven into the fabric of humanity, even through turbulent times.
The pink tutu truly stood for the strength of dance – that it was a beacon of hope, a place of beauty and artistry that could transcend all kinds of hardships. And that's exactly what I hope you take away from my travels this month, darling.
*Until next month! Love, Emma xx *
Remember, every pink tutu in the world is a magical reminder that the ballet spirit lives on, even when the world around us seems a bit… challenging.
