Feijoo’s final steps at Ballet
After 18 years as principal dancer in S.F., Cuban ballerina moving on to new stages
The ballet studio door swings open and San Francisco Ballet principal dancer Lorena Feijoo, clutching two pairs of pointe shoes to her chest, sweeps into the room. A minute later, partner Jaime Garcia Castilla is lifting her to the ceiling. Arms flail. The action stops; a heated discussion (most of it in Spanish) erupts between the dancer and ballet master Felipe Diaz. “It’s too high,” Feijoo says about a lift. “I can’t bring myself to do anything so unnatural.”
Even as she prepares for her company farewell gala, the Havanaborn artist remains a highly critical observer of how — and what —
she dances. Feijoo arrived here 18 years ago, and her retirement is yet another indication that the San Francisco Ballet is evolving rather dramatically these days. Consider that Vanessa Zahorian and husband Davit Karapetyan are also leaving this spring, while at least a half-dozen other principals and soloists, for various reasons, are rumored to be packing their bags.
Last year’s retirement of three stellar males — Joan Boada, Pascal Molat, Gennadi Nedvigin — has left a gap. The generational shift, inevitable but sad in ballet, is almost complete. By next January’s opening, many of the company’s dancers will be strangers to audiences.
As she settles into a long conversation in an office in the Chris Hellman Center for Dance, Feijoo acknowledges the inevitability of retirement, but she wonders if she is ready to move on.
“I am happy with my career,” she says. “I was rarely injured; and in San Francisco, I danced every role I wanted, except two, Juliet and Tatiana in ‘Onegin.’ I was so depressed when I was passed over for ‘Onegin’ the second time, I decided to get pregnant.” (Her seven-year marriage to principal dancer Vitor Luiz ended in divorce. They have a daughter, Luciana, 4.)
Feijoo is a product of the National Ballet of Cuba School, which she entered at 9. “When you are 18, you graduate both as a dancer and a teacher, completely prepared,” says Feijoo. “We started school at 7 a.m. and learned piano, acting, folk dance, everything for a career onstage.”
But after a year in the corps, Feijoo left Havana and found work in Monterrey, Mexico; Chicago’s Joffrey Ballet; and the Royal Ballet of Flanders in Belgium. She attracted favorable press attention in Europe, and San Francisco Ballet Artistic Director Helgi Tomasson hired her on a principal dancer contract in 1999.
“I was so happy to be in San Francisco, I would have come here as a soloist,” says Feijoo. She recalls her first performance with the company, outdoors in the rain on tour in Nervi, Italy. Indoors, she prospered. “I got to dance eclectic repertoire I never would have done. At the time, the company had such wonderful dancers, like Evelyn Cisneros, Joanna Berman and Tina LeBlanc. I felt inspired by them and loved how Helgi had transformed the company.”
From the beginning, Feijoo staked out a unique niche for herself on the growing roster. In classical fare, her Cuban pedigree, she notes, radiated through her performance. She remains a passionate performer for whom emotional inflections matter as much as technical dexterity.
“Giselle” is Feijoo’s favorite part. It matters because National Ballet of Cuba chief Alicia Alonso won international success dancing the title role. And it means something personal for Feijoo. “I studied it for many years in Cuba. It was the first ballet that made me who I am. It was about understanding this fragile, beautiful girl, so different from the other peasants. It was about her pure love returning from the grave to save her lover’s life. In my country, it was important to understand every character in the ballet.”
She also cites “Don Quixote” as a career highlight. “It was such a treat dancing Kitri with fellow Cuban Joan Boada, who knows everything about partnering. Out of this world, which you can’t always say about this ballet.”
Of American choreographers, Feijoo mentions Jerome Robbins. “I know that he wasn’t always pleasant to people, but he was impeccably musical. He could translate notes into steps. And I love John Cranko, who was so good at imbuing gesture with meaning.” Of the younger generation of choreographers, Feijoo also cites Liam Scarlett, whose “Hummingbird” she adores: “Liam’s process is fascinating.”
Two San Francisco Ballet choreographers stir special memories. In his dancing days, Yuri Possokhov squired Feijoo with a compassion that took you to very special places; their “Giselle” lingers in the mind. In his post-performing phase as resident choreographer, Possokhov has cast Feijoo in at least nine of his San Francisco Ballet pieces, most of them created on her.
Val Caniparoli is also a certified Feijoo fan. It was she who succeeded Cisneros when Caniparoli revived his immensely popular “Lambarena,” and he thought of Feijoo as Hedda Gabler for his “Ibsen’s House.”
Caniparoli notes that he “was drawn to Feijoo’s dancing and larger-than-life personality from the beginning. She possesses energy, commitment and dedication that are unmatched. I choreograph most of my works for her for these very reasons, not to mention her versatility and ability to collaborate in the choreographic process.”
Versatility means much to Feijoo. “A principal dancer should be capable of executing many roles. Of course, in certain ballets you will be more in your element than others, but you must be able in all cases to get the steps out.” These seem wise words from a dancer who could plumb the tragic depths of “Giselle” one night and fizz her way through Paul Taylor’s “Rum and Coca-Cola” the next.
Feijoo may be leaving the Ballet, but she will not be missing from local stages. The San Francisco Opera has engaged her to dance at Flora’s party in “La Traviata” in September and to perform as Lola Montes in the world premiere production of the John Adams-Peter Sellars opera “Girls of the Golden West” in November. There will be teaching and coaching, too, in this “challenging year.” Feijoo, one feels, will make out just fine.
Possokhov agrees. “Lorena,” he writes, “exemplifies a special rank not spoken of in ballet; she is a true Ballerina with a capital B.”