Little Wooden Mannequin #13 is footless, because I refuse.


Does she look sad? Maybe because her feet are going the wrong way and I drew them exactly like they were and then erased them and then cheated them and then erased them and then just was annoyed. I’m mad at her. She’s not my favorite. I like her dress though. Maybe she is conjuring up some better feet through THE POWER OF DANCE.

The Little Wooden Mannequin Project is a collaboration between Adult Beginner and her two year old son. He sets the pose, she draws.

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Little Wooden Manneq—wait a minute…

Can you see what’s wrong with the little wooden mannequin?
Took The Adult Beginner a stupid long time to see. Was all like, “Ooh, what an interesting pose! Wait, something’s….not right….somewhere….??? Guhhhhh….whuh????”
Don’tcha worry though, there’s another cheap, poorly jointed wooden mannequin right here, just waiting to bask in the unusual circumstance of actually being used as a drawing guide.

The Little Wooden Mannequin Project is a collaboration between Adult Beginner and her two year old son. He sets the pose and sometimes removes stuff, she draws.

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Don’t let go of the barre, though, you might float away.

At the barre, at that delirious moment where you’re doing battements and it’s the last barre exercise and you’re covered in sweat and your legs are trembling and you start employing some Mind Tricks to get through,
I started imaging that my leg is at rest up there at the highest point of the battement.
Like that’s where it belongs, resting up there on air.
The working leg floats up to it’s resting spot, hangs out there, and then the hard work of the grande battement is pulling it back down to earth.
Who knows what it looked like from the outside but from the inside, at least this one time, it totally fooled me.

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Like summer camp, but leotards instead of friendship bracelets and ghosts stories.

Summer is over.
But instead of feeling sad and thinking back to your summer camp days of long ago, read these posts from Rori Roars about The Boston Ballet School Adult Summer Dance Program.
Start with this post and read on from there.

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Comparing apples to The Best Oranges Ever.

And now I’m discouraged about pointe all over again.
This class, Gentle Reader. It’s just way too much in the center. I think. What do you think?
I think I’m not ready to be out there, and looking around with my Judging Eyes, neither is the entire rest of the class.
Except for Best Girl. She belongs in center. She is lovely. She is the good example I look to when I want to go blaming all my equipment, starting from the floor up.
“It’s my shoes, they’re too soft. Wait, no, Best Girl is wearing her old dead pair and she can rise up into an arabesque in center en pointe unassisted. Harrumph.”
“It’s my shoes, they’re too hard. Wait, no, Best Girl is wearing brand new shoes today. They’re hard as glue-soaked wood, and yet her feet look petite and flexible and like the shoe is a smoothly-fitted continuation of her line, while the rest of us are standing around on bricks. Harrumph.”
Side note regarding harrumph: this is a harrumph of annoyance at having no comforting excuse, not a harrumph at Best Girl, who is the nicest.
Side note regarding Best Girl’s feet: there was this one time we were waiting for instructions, and she was standing with one foot flat and the other pointed, just in regular flat ballet slippers, and I looked and was thinking, ‘uh uh girl, you are totally forcing your arch against the floor, that mess can’t be real,’ and then as if she could hear my thoughts she lifted her foot off the floor and her point did not loose a even a micron of pointedness.
I’m not compare myself to her, obviously that would be like comparing apples to The Best Oranges Ever, I’m just saying Best Girl belongs out there in scary center doing pretty things while I should be getting drilled in the basics.
And I mean the really basic basics. While a classmate was making a brave attempt at across the floor, Best Girl quietly explained to me how instead of jumping onto my toes it’s more of a really fast roll-up and scoot the toe under. When she explained it I was just like ‘Gaaaaaah, why am I even here?????? I need to be in the class where we face the wall and practice rolling and scooting for a solid twenty five minutes, then reverénce and done, not this class where twenty minutes are spent in center after loosing five minutes of barre to general ribbon fussery and never being told that Spring Up doesn’t mean jump!’
Speaking of brave attempts and rising to unassisted arabesques on pointe, there was a moment where we were supposed to do something awful across the floor, then come down in fifth, then kinda brush forward up into an arabesque on pointe, and I was like Oh Hell No and Lé Assistant stood in front of me and was like, “I’ll catch you! Hold my hand, I’ll support you!” and I was so touched by the courage of this woman, I mean the only end I could foresee to this scenario was her getting crushed, but she seemed to think I could actually do it, or at any rate she was smiling in the face of certain death by crushination.
I didn’t crush her.
I got up into arabesque and slooooowly fell over onto her until it just seemed the polite thing to do was to get off.
Gentle Reader, do you take or teach pointe? Is it supposed to be like this? Like beginners out there in the center feeling scared? I feel like pointe class is supposed to be even slower and more deliberate than regular ballet class, but maybe I just want that because I’m a big coward.
If I’m a big coward you can totally tell me. Say it to my face, Gentle Reader!

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Little Wooden Mannequin Project #12


This one started out looking like a difficult one, but ended up being a quick draw.
Must’ve been that crazy moiré on the reference photo, spinning faster faster faster.

The Little Wooden Mannequin Project is a collaboration between Adult Beginner and her two year old son. He sets the pose; she draws.

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Little Wooden Mannequin Project #11. She hates bow pose as much as I do!!!


The Little Wooden Mannequin Project is a collaboration between Adult Beginner and her almost two-year-old son. He sets the pose, she draws it.

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