Christopher Boatwright: transformed through dance - deaf dancer

Christopher Boatwright may have lost most of his hearing, but his matchless musicality remains. In fact, having been forced to find tempos and rhythms within himself, he has made his dancing increasingly profound. He has developed new sensibilities in the process of learning sign language and lipreading. These new accomplishments, combined with the technique, line, and ballon that made him a classical ballet star in Europe, have made his performances in the contemporary repertoire of Alonzo King's Lines Contemporary Ballet Company an amazing thing to behold. Audiences saw Boatwright's achievement when Lines performed in San Francisco's Center for the Arts (April 19-28), and New York City audiences will see him at the Joyce Theater (June 4-9).

"Chris is a master musician," says King, who brought him to Lines three years ago, "and as his love for dancing continues to grow, so does his ability to transform himself so thoroughly that he seems to disappear into his roles. Most dancers exhibit themselves first, but he makes the works visible. He is one of the great artists of his generation."

For a young African American from Brooklyn who excelled in football, tennis, and swimming, becoming a dancer seemed quite unlikely. Boatwright changed direction while a scholarship student at Fieldston, a New York City private school. He would be doing warm-up exercises in the gym while the girl students were taking modern dance class. Gradually he was drawn into another world. He had considered becoming a lawyer to please his family, but once he started studying with Merce Cunningham after school, there wasn't much chance of his doing anything else but dance.

Cunningham excited Boatwright, but the atmosphere of the School of American Ballet, which he attended for six weeks, was just too cold for him. A career in ballet did appeal to him, however, despite the fact that so few blacks were classical dancers. The outstanding exception was Arthur Mitchell, then dancing with New York City Ballet. To further complicate matters, Boatwright was seriously injured after graduating from high school.

He hurt his knee while auditioning for Harkness Ballet. X rays showed that he had splinters in his femur. After surgery and three weeks in the hospital, he needed extensive therapy. It took him three months to walk again. Once back on his feet, he auditioned for American Ballet Theatre's school and won a scholarship. After classes there, he'd study at the Alvin Ailey American Dance Center in the evening.

"What a wonderful time we had!" recalls Boatwright. "My friends and I were all flower children. We'd take classes all day and then go out all night together. I moved to Greenwich Village and became a part of the disco scene," he recalls. "But it took its toll. I hadn't learned the discipline required for ballet. There were too many distractions, and I wasn't taking care of my body. In late seventy-two, I began to look for a way out of New York. I knew I needed to be a monk in my work."

Stuttgart Ballet seemed like a good alternative. When Boatwright saw the company perform Eugene Onegin at the Metropolitan Opera House in 1973, he was inspired to audition--in part because Stuttgart had black dancers. "I thought maybe they'll be liberal enough to take me," he says. At the time, there were six black dancers in Stuttgart's sixty-two-member troupe, three times as many as in ABT and in NYCB combined.

Company director John Cranko noticed Boatwright at the audition and called him forward to do some especially difficult combinations. His performance was enough to make Cranko want him in his school in Germany. Boatwright explained that his family couldn't afford the cost. Undaunted, Cranko met with Boatwright's parents and suggested they all go to the Ford Foundation in Washington, D.C., to try to get scholarship money. Cranko's efforts paid off, and, at twenty-two, Boatwright became the first recipient of the John Cranko Scholarship.

Ron Alexander, a faculty member of the Alvin Ailey American Dance Center and former principal with Hamburg Ballet, has known Boatwright since those days. "From the beginning," he says, "Chris was an incredible classical dancer, with the qualities of an Erik Bruhn. He had--and still has--a magnificent presence; his gorgeous smile shines all the way to the back row of the theater."

"I was eager to go to Europe because I wanted to be where the classics originated," explains Boatwright, "and to understand the feeling of courtliness that infuses so many of them. It didn't disappoint me. This new world gave me everything I wanted--discipline and beautiful, beautiful ballets. I loved it.

"Every day was enthralling--being around Marcia Haydee and learning from John Cranko. I'd only known the choreography of Balanchine, Joffrey, and Ailey, and American dancers. Stuttgart had an international repertory and many French and English members."

The atmosphere outside the studio was as new to Boatwright as the activities inside. "In the United States, you're told you're a black American; in Europe I was a person, just someone from a different country. It took years for me to get used to the openness. So many races go through Europe that there is hardly any bias. The Germans were very sharing and giving, and very respectful. It felt more like home than being here in America." Boatwright flourished. For nine years he starred with Stuttgart Ballet, getting opportunities he probably would never have had in the United States. During this period he danced in many of Cranko's ballets, including Romeo and Juliet, Swan Lake, The Taming of the Shrew, and Jeu de Cartes.