David Cronenberg Photographed by Christopher Sherman.

CRONENBERG: Humans can be very depressing, yeah. That’s why I really love babies, because they haven’t learned how to be destructive yet. [Laughs]

JARMUSCH: Now we’re getting a little negative. But when I get depressed by the state of the world, I try to appreciate the very strange phenomenon of having a consciousness. I think, “Life on earth is such a fragile, brief thing.” The fact that we’re even here talking to each other is remarkable, and therefore something to celebrate. My friend Joe Strummer from the Clash always used to say to people, “When you get really low, you only have to remember one thing: You’re alive!” So I try to hold that close. But lately, I don’t know.

Being alive takes physical form. It takes having a very crude, animate, raw, embarrassing, intimate, funny, painful physical form. And the best parts of us are expressed when we make something with our physical form. It’s why I sit and wait at that confluence where people who actually make things reveal themselves. It takes work. You have to read, go to museums, watch films, attend shows, take classes, fumble with your own makings, play with children, listen to conversations. In short, you have to show up as a curious person willing to learn, practice, be exasperated, repeat yourself. You have to prompt yourself and not a machine, so you can find yourself in happenstance when the currents merge for a moment. 

Two women merged recently.

This clip from Steven McRae: Dancing Back to the Light, of Leslie Collier coaching the principal dancer of The Royal Ballet as he recovers from a career-threatening Achilles tendon. The documentary was uneven but this piece stayed with me:

Do you know as we get older, we have unresponsive anything, and that is where artistry comes into it. I mean it’s hard to say that but where all your experience will come.

So I wouldn’t even..Just go where it is now, and build other things. You love building stories; build a story.

Leaving room for your heart

rather than closing, dropping,

and a little softness in the face.

The more you work it sincerely, the better chance you have of a longer life.

It was her very measured delivery that stood out in contrast to the frenetic anxiousness of the no longer younger artist dealing with physical limitations. It had weight and honesty to it. It’s learning that only comes from years of craft, of physical heft, of nuance.

A few weeks later, I found myself reading Once an Inspiration to Balanchine, Suzanne Farrell Now Shows the Way in the New York Times. Lesley and Suzanne’s move towards confluence had began decades ago. In the clip above, Lesley was coaching Steven through Rhapsody. It premiered in August 1980, at the Royal Opera House, with the two principal roles danced by Baryshnikov and Collier. In 1978, Baryshnikov joined the New York City Ballet, where he worked with George Balanchine. And since 1963, Balanchine had originated many of the lead roles at the New York Ballet for Suzanne Farrell.

Suzanne Farrell photographed by Vincent Tullo for The New York Times

Suzanne’s words formed a pas de deux with Lesley’s:

“Like a writer tries to find the best word for what they want to say, I try to give the dancers, my students, this philosophy: To give them a physical thesaurus of how to dance,” Farrell said. “When you’re young, you sort of masquerade behind the easy things, the legs, and the things that a young person would find impressive. But there’s so much more than just that.”

I don’t like that saying ‘less is more,’ because less is just less.”

She illustrated her point with a story: One day, when Balanchine was teaching class, he had the dancers perform a rond de jambe, or the circular movement of the leg. On the eighth count, he made them stay still. “People were uncomfortable that there was nothing happening,” she said. “And he said, ‘Silence is a beautiful thing.’ And it is, especially in this day and age. Silence has volume. Silence has a sound. It’s the absence of movement, but it’s the presence of everything else.”

I watched another staging of Woke Up Blind by Marco Goecke for Ballet BC this month. It’s contemporary, easy to say it’s removed from Balanchine’s neo-classical style. But it has its own precise sharpness and completely demanding physicality. It was also the last performance for Emily Chessa, in her 12th and final season for the company. I have had the good fortune to have watched Emily in her first season and in ten overall. I saw her first iteration of Woke Up Blind in 2022 and observed the changes in performance, of self, and command of craft. 

Her next role is as Rehearsal Director for Ballet BC in their 2025/2026 season. A third actor has joined the confluence.