Balance.

WITHIN A VERY FEW DAYS THIS SUMMER, AUDIENCES ATTENDING THE ROYAL BALLET IN BOSTON AND AMERICAN BALLET THEATRE IN NEW YORK CITY COULD SEE PRODUCTIONS OF THAT ENDURING FAVORITE, THE UR-CLASSIC OF OUR TIME, SWAN LAKE. The packed houses illustrated again our fond devotion to a handful of classics that represent in the eyes of many the essence of ballet. Those full-evening works--and we all know which ones they are--still fill our theaters, are the imagined answer to dreams of many young dancers and satisfy a substantial segment of the paying audience. The box-office receipts confirm that our classics sell. And yet, in many areas of dance today there are serious problems beyond the box office that have to do with balance.

Our Swan Lakes are not, in themselves, the only problem, but they can be symptomatic of an urge to satisfy short-term considerations at the expense of long-term issues of survival. This dilemma concerning short-term gains versus long-term goals is not unique to dance, of course; we see it everywhere--in the heated debate over environmental issues, for example, or tax rebates versus reduction of national debt. Dance, which mirrors contemporary life, is no exception.

Just to illustrate my point, let's look at the four elements that, in proportion make for a successful dance company in today's economy--a four-square pattern of survival. First, you have to have artistic direction that provides inspiration and vision balanced with savvy business acumen. Second, you need management that can oversee the dollars and cents responsibly while remaining sensitive to the artistic process. Third, you need an involved and educated--and do not underestimate the importance of that word educated--board of directors that supports the artistic director and helps generate the bucks. And fourth, you have to have an audience that has an appetite for what you are trying to do.

Most would agree, I'm fairly sure, that the audience is the most important part of balancing this equation. But there isn't just one audience; there can be many segments with different needs and expectations. While your ideal may be to present a program with works by Kylian, Ashton, Balanchine, and a new dance by Christopher Wheeldon, you might find that this combination is not as popular at the box office as another Giselle would have been (see "One Foot in Either Camp: Boise, Idaho, and Eugene, Oregon, Share a Ballet Company"). But while you still need the enthusiastic support of the Kylian/Ashton/Balanchine/Wheeldon segment--if for no other reason than to confirm your high standard within the larger artistic community--that audience alone may not be enough for healthy sustenance. Some of us would rather see the Ashton masterpiece La Fille mal gardee, but there are those who would prefer another Swan Lake. What do you do? (ABT will be doing them both, but that is an exception.) Where is the balance? Do you present what you believe is good for your audience in the long run, such as ABT's not particularly popular American choreographers' evenings in the recent New York spring season (see Reviews)? Or, as ABT has done so successfully, do you dare offer a surfeit of Swan Lakes, Giselles, Don Qs, along with the succession in seasons past of Auroras, Claras, Nikiyas, Swanildas, and Juliets? The delicate balance in this case is finding that right combination of what audiences want with what they could want. It's always been a risky business, that last part, telling anybody what they need; but it is a risk that has to be taken to ensure the quality and longevity of the art form. W. S. Gilbert in Trial by Jury put it this way: "You cannot eat breakfast all day, / Nor is it the act of a sinner, / When breakfast is taken away, / To turn your attention to dinner." Just see to it that the dinner you serve is nutritious and sustains life.

Good art satisfies in terms of entertainment, but it also balances entertainment with high standards of artistic integrity. If an organization's internal settings are not in balance--those four things: the artistic director's informed leadership, effective management, a supportive board, and a core audience that supports what you do--then chaos is not far behind.

One company most in the news these days in this regard is Boston Ballet where, in a seemingly short time, this once-regarded paradigm of dance-world success got into trouble rapidly (see Presstime News). Why? It lost its balance. How? The general director of the company upset the cart by usurping, with the board's nodding support, primary authority over the artistic director. This topsy-turvy condition resulted in an expensive and chaotic quest for new artistic direction. When that failed rather spectacularly, someone came up with a Byzantine system in which the company's very capable music director was elevated to a sort of stand-in director with broad artistic control, to be shared with visiting choreographers. The offending general director fled to academia, where one supposes the media heat is less opinionated. An exodus was already taking place in the company, which reportedly included as many as fifteen dancers, the public relations director, the human resources manager, an executive secretary, the principal of an important satellite school, and essential assistants. Oh yes, and the chairman of the board stepped down too. All gone.

Boston has become an extreme example, illustrating what can happen if the very delicate balance of power within an artistic organization is unreasonably challenged. I've talked in this column before about the organic structure of arts organizations and the need to maintain a healthy environment in which talent and respect are primary conditions. When that gets whomped out of balance, setting things right is far more costly than keeping them on track in the first place--and that includes building a team of loyal company members and regaining audience support. These tangles are avoidable, and I would hope that the sad outcomes are not the intention of anyone involved. But, then, we know about good intentions.

There is a certain sensed balance that seems to inform much of what we do, and just as we can tell when things are going in the right direction, we can also sense when they're heading south. And we ignore that instinct at our peril.

Richard Philp has been with Dance Magazine since 1970, first as managing editor and then for many years as editor in chief. He is a writer, editor, and speaker, known for his strong support of the arts. He can be reached at [e-mail].