Richardson, here in Sylvia, says, “Accepting who I am as a dancer helped me be comfortable, even in company class.” PC Rosalie O’Connor, Courtesy ABT
The luminous Rachel Richardson has it all: long legs, articulate feet and a sparkling smile that makes her prodigious technique seem all the more natural. She was a standout in American Ballet Theatre’s Studio Company, where she danced—with particular generosity and expansiveness—a memorable Medora in Le Corsaire, but during ABT’s Metropolitan Opera season last spring, she held the stage as both the Fairy Miettes qui tombent, or Breadcrumb, and the Gold Fairy in Alexei Ratmansky’s The Sleeping Beauty. Though she’s only been a member of the corps de ballet since 2015, one thing is clear: Richardson is in remarkable possession of ballerina aplomb.
Company: American Ballet Theatre
Training: Oregon Ballet Academy, Eugene Ballet Academy and The Rock School for Dance Education
Accolades: Youth America Grand Prix silver medal, senior division
How the ballet bug bit her:When she started dancing at age 8, Richardson was deep into soccer and avoided all things girly. “My older sister danced,” she says. “Her teacher saw my feet and thought that I should try a class. I didn’t want to do it originally because I sort of thought it was nothing, like really easy. After my first class I totally loved it. I was always up for a challenge.”
Insider tip:“I went to The Rock for one year and then my parents asked me to come back to Eugene for my sister’s senior year.” That coincided with an illuminating year of training at Eugene Ballet Academy. “It’s tempting to think, If I can’t take from this one teacher or at this one school, then my life is ruined!” Richardson says. “But it’s important to see the bigger picture and that there’s a lot to gain from different people.”
On dancing in the corps: Richardson says it comes down to being gracious. “I’m learning about the unselfish aspect of dancing, which I’m realizing more and more is what being an artist is really about. If you’re too much in your head, it takes away from your ability to give.”
Breakthrough moment: “The Sleeping Beauty. Ratmansky has so much he wants. It’s the best way to work toward anything because you have a sense of how far you want to try to go, even if you can’t get there in that rehearsal—or in the next five. He works you hard, but I like coming out of a rehearsal super-sweaty.”
What Kate Lydon says: “I like the precision of her technique,” says Lydon, who directs ABT’s Studio Company. “Not many people have that ability. But I also like the honesty of her characterizations, plus her vulnerability and her steel will. She’s tiny, but she’s mighty.”
It never ends: Attaining perfection is impossible, but Richardson relishes the challenge. “I definitely always am working on improving my jump. Footwork. Strength in my feet. Dancing with my whole body as opposed to just dancing with limbs. But that’s why I started dancing and why I still love it. Literally every single thing can always be better.”
Tony Testa leads a rehearsal during his USC New Movement Residency. Photo by Mary Mallaney/Courtesy USC
The massive scale of choreographing an Olympic opening ceremony really has no equivalent. The hundreds of performers, the deeply historic rituals and the worldwide audience and significance make it a project like no other.
Just consider the timeline: For most live TV events like award shows, choreographers usually take a month or two to put everything together. For the Olympics, the process can take up to four years.
But this kind of challenge is exactly what Los Angeles choreographer Tony Testa is looking for. He's currently creating a submission to throw his hat in the ring to choreograph for Beijing's 2022 Winter Games.
In a studio high above Lincoln Center, Taylor Stanley is rehearsing a solo from Jerome Robbins' Opus 19/The Dreamer. As the pianist plays Prokofiev's plangent melody, Stanley begins to move, his arms forming crisp, clean lines while his upper body twists and melts from one position to the next.
All you see is intention and arrival, without a residue of superfluous movement. The ballet seems to depict a man searching for something, struggling against forces within himself. Stanley doesn't oversell the struggle—in fact he's quite low-key—but the clarity with which he executes the choreography draws you in.