In memory of a great choreographer
On May 9, Yuri Grigorovich, one of the outstanding choreographers of our time, died in Moscow at the age of 98. A cult figure in the world of art, he lived a long, rich and brilliant life, a privilege granted only to the chosen few. His creative legacy is a wonderful gift to humanity.
Yuri Nikolayevich brought joy to everyone who saw his ballets. He shared his talent generously and showed audiences the full force of feeling and passion. His works carried the power of the human spirit and of proud creation, and reached the most hidden depths of the soul. The scale of the maestro is simply astonishing.
His talent was of a special kind. It did not blaze up overnight but took shape and unfolded over decades. Grigorovich can rightly be called the creator of a new ballet galaxy. He cultivated the highest human values in himself and still remained free of clichés. His inner world combined intellect, emotion and beauty.
Some called him a tyrant and a despot. Others admired his energy, his capacity for hard work, his creativity and his ability to turn ideas into reality. As Omar Khayyam said: “One cannot tell what a rose smells of; another will draw honey from bitter herbs.”
Tchaikovsky called ballet the most moral of the arts. And indeed, only a person with very high inner standards can create a masterpiece in this field. Grigorovich began staging ballets at age of twenty and never stopped surprising both audiences and professionals. He created choreographic phrases, movements, pantomime: the whole fabric of a performance. Prima ballerinas embodied his ideas, and he inspired and guided them.
I am friends with the Mariinsky Theatre company for many years, so I count myself among the “ballet-adjacent” people. In the summer of 2016, Yuri Nikolayevich came to St. Petersburg to revive his ballet The Stone Flower. He ran the rehearsals himself, in his famously tough but brilliant manner. The dancers told me that every remark he made had clarity, meaning and logic. At 89, he knew the entire choreographic text by heart and even demonstrated the steps as easily as if he were forty.
That summer I had the luck of an unexpected meeting. Outsiders were not allowed into rehearsals, but a friend of mine from the ballet management offered to make up for my disappointment. Together we went to the Astoria Hotel, where the maestro was staying.
When we came in, Grigorovich has greeted us warmly in a quiet, soft voice. He looked younger than his years, slight in build, with small features and a short buzz cut. Nothing about him matched the image of a tyrant. He was pleased that I was not ballerina. As it turned out, he was tired of endless requests from people in the profession. Simple human conversation was a real pleasure for him.
My companion soon left, and I stayed alone with Grigorovich. He invited me to have breakfast with him. And what a breakfast it was: two sandwiches with sturgeon and black caviar on Borodinsky rye bread, nuts, cheese, Guryev porridge, tea and a carafe of expensive cognac. He ordered this same breakfast in every hotel around the world. Seeing my surprise at the cognac, he explained that among ballet people it is considered normal to drink it in the morning, of all times.
I followed the gastronomic order he suggested. He enjoyed every part of the meal. At that moment I felt that in front of me was a man who imitates no one, is not afraid of conventions and always stays himself. Breakfast with the creator of a ballet galaxy: it was an unheard-of piece of luck.
Few years later, during the pandemic, I got a call from the Mariinsky ballet office. “Greetings from Yuri Nikolayevich,” they told me. “He asks: how is Marina with the long hair doing? Let her call.” I was stunned. He remembered me. I called. He was over ninety, but he still remembered about our breakfast, our conversation, the atmosphere. This will stay in my heart forever.
In the day of his funeral, May 23, I lit a candle and remembered the great choreographer with a smoked sturgeon sandwich and a shot of cognac. On the ninth day, I made Guryev porridge, the way he liked it.
The name of Yuri Grigorovich will forever stand on the pedestal of world choreography. He has gained immortality. Eternal memory…
Marina Kochetova