Life in Motion: An Unlikely Ballerina (28 page)

PRINCE DISAPPEARED AGAIN FOR
maybe another year before suddenly calling me once more in the fall of 2011. He wanted to fly me to his home in Minnesota for a photo shoot and to discuss a new collaboration. I agreed, and just as before, I went to see him, not really knowing much about what he wanted.

He told me that he was planning to tour the States, something he hadn’t done in a very long time. The tour would be called Welcome to America and would kick off with a concert in New York City at Madison Square Garden. I was honored that he wanted me to be involved, especially in the tour’s beginning stages, when he was envisioning and charting the tour’s look and flow.

We did a photo shoot together, him with his guitar and me in the gown and pointe shoes I’d worn nearly two years earlier in the “Crimson and Clover” video. I
pirouetted
and posed around him while he focused solely on the camera. A couple of hours later, when we were done, I went to another room in his home to sit with some of his staff, who were ready to pick the pictures that we’d use. I did the choosing, selecting those that best showed my dancer’s lines since they didn’t have the eye for that uniquely balletic attribute. They accepted that I knew best and then printed the shots that would be used in the posters and programs that would be on sale during the shows.

Playtime, however, was over. There would be no more improvising onstage. This time, Prince wanted a choreographed and set piece.

WHEN I RETURNED TO
New York, ABT was in full swing preparing for our
Nutcracker
season at the Brooklyn Academy of Music. We were using a theater space in New Jersey for our daily rehearsals since the BAM facility would be occupied by another company until our premiere.

I would rehearse with ABT from about ten in the morning
until nine at night. Then, during my breaks, I had a choreographer meeting me at the theater to work on the number I would do during Prince’s concert. I would be dancing to “The Beautiful Ones” from Prince’s movie and album
Purple Rain.

After rehearsing all day and half the night with ABT, I was picked up from the theater in a limousine to go to the Izod Center in New Jersey, where I would then rehearse with Prince until about two in the morning. He was now very particular about what he wanted from me. But I was comfortable with that. This was the type of high-pressure environment I was used to as a ballerina, and while it had been fun to do what I’d wanted in the shows before, it was comforting to strive again for technical perfection and control. I was ready.

Prince would write pages of notes for me and the choreographer. He would have me listen to the “Beautiful Ones” over and over again until I knew every word and musical cue.

Baby, baby, baby,

What’s it gonna be?

Sometimes we would rehearse in his suite at the Ritz-Carlton in Manhattan, and he would blast the music as I danced on the dining room table, our substitute for the piano that I would whirl atop onstage during the concerts.

Working with Prince—experiencing his brilliance, his attention to detail, but also his belief in me—boosted my confidence immeasurably. Executing something that was his vision but based largely on my own, without the incremental coaching of my ballet mistresses, made me feel independent, as if I was truly a professional at last.

Up to that point, I’d still often felt like a student, the perennial latecomer to ballet. Working with Prince helped me to
become a whole artist, responsible for every step I danced from its conception to its execution, from its birth to its final flourish.

MY EMOTIONAL BREAKTHROUGHS—MEETING AND
falling in love with Olu, learning to cherish my new body, meeting my father for the first time—seemed to flow alongside technical breakthroughs in my dancing.

I remember the first time I performed George Balanchine’s
Tchaikovsky Pas de Deux
at the Met with Jared Matthews. It was in May 2009, and it was a significant turning point for me. Quick footwork, especially in Balanchine ballets, was always a challenge for me. I practiced relentlessly and performed well, a major accomplishment. And my technique improved each time I performed.

I have found that most of my progression and breakthroughs came when I was asked to perform outside of ABT. I think that was because in those outside shows, I was always the principal dancer, and I was able to perform major parts without the expectations and pressure I felt from ABT’s staff.

Sometimes the pressure existed solely in my own head. There was always the fear that if I had an off day, if I could not maintain the illusion of perfection that we dancers endlessly sought but could not attain, I would never be cast in that part again. But dancing outside of ABT, I felt as if there was less to lose. Worry and tension was replaced by pure, unfettered joy.

I didn’t just experience that burst of confidence and adrenaline dancing with other companies or choreographers. I felt the same freedom and electricity performing with Prince.

He was a perfectionist, like me, and he wanted to see certain elements in my performance. Still, I was the expert on ballet, and so it was up to me to choreograph, hone, and then perform my piece, all on my own.

He and I would stare at the mirror, figuring out poses that worked for me to do around him as he sang “The Beautiful Ones” on his U.S. tour. I would not be at every concert. Since ABT was in the midst of its season at the Brooklyn Academy of Music, I’d gotten permission to perform with Prince on our off nights, and Prince was fine with my coming and going according to my schedule with ABT, cutting my piece on the nights I was on at BAM.

I was exhausted and exhilarated. I’ve performed all over the world, from the Metropolitan Opera to the Karl Marx Theatre in Havana and the Cultural Centre in Hong Kong, but performing with Prince was something I could never have prepared for.

The first show was at Madison Square Garden, and I felt a bit more pressure than usual. The audience was filled with celebrities, and the air was crackling with intensity.

During the show, I sneaked under the stage, where Prince had a small changing room. He would perform a couple of songs before coming to join me. When he came downstairs, we were quiet. Then we hugged.

“Let’s do it,” he said.

Then he stepped onto a small square platform that rose from beneath the stage. He walked to the piano and started playing.

The platform was supposed to lower again for me to step on, rise, and take my place alongside Prince.

But the stage wouldn’t lower.

I began to panic.
Oh no,
I thought.
That’s my cue! I’m supposed to be onstage!

It seemed to take minutes, but after a few seconds, the platform dropped to meet me.

I gracefully walked to the piano and picked up where I needed to. Prince’s relentless drills to make sure that I knew every lyric, every chord, helped me find my place without missing a beat. I felt ebullient.

I was about to have my solo when Prince stopped singing.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Misty Copeland!” My heart started pounding. He’d never done that in any rehearsals. I always saw myself as the backup dancer, twirling in the background. Now he’d introduced me to his audience, as if I were his equal, his partner. I was floating.

To be truthful, I don’t believe that I was able really to showcase what I was capable of as a ballerina. The gown—the same one I’d worn years before in the “Crimson and Clover” video and that Prince insisted I wear during his concerts—was a size four. I was barely a size zero. And its train was too heavy and long to allow me to execute jumps or intricate turns. Even the stage wasn’t quite right, with flooring that wasn’t appropriate for dancing in pointe shoes.

For the most part, I walked around in a very sultry way, doing
piqué
turn after
piqué
turn, going into a string of
chaînés
until I could no longer keep from becoming dizzy with the added weight of my dress’s long train. Still, it was nothing too technically difficult. My greatest balancing act was making sure I didn’t slip off as I spun on top of the piano.

Still, I’ll never, ever forget it. I was performing in concert
arenas, giving a taste of ballet to many who had never seen one. Prince and I would do several more shows together at Madison Square Garden, and at the Forum in Los Angeles, and it was an experience that is incomparable.

Prince loved watching the ballet, and came to ABT to see my performances often. He gave me confidence I hadn’t felt since I was a young dancer. One of the things I most value about our friendship was that he helped me realize my worth at ABT. I didn’t need to be so humble all the time, he said, just as Mr. Mitchell tried to tell me. You are a queen, a diva in the best way, he’d say. I felt like a different person onstage knowing that someone as talented as he is had confidence in me. As fleeting as his presence in my life was, I know I will be forever grateful for it.

It was also incredible that ABT was so generous, allowing me to take advantage of these other opportunities when there were times they could definitely have said no. And of course, they would express great support for my work inside the company, which was the most affirming of all.

I realized that support was there from the beginning. I frequently recalled those heady days during the first two summers I danced with ABT. I remember when Elaine Kudo, the wonderful dancer who had been the first to dance with Baryshnikov in Twyla Tharp’s
Push Comes to Shove,
approached me one day. She had seen me perform the year before in a contemporary piece created by Kirk Peterson called
Eyes That Gently Touch,
and she wanted to tell me how beautiful she thought my performance had been. She said that she had seen two other professional companies perform the same piece, and mine was by far the best she had seen. I was honored beyond words.

I also recall David Richardson, ABT’s then assistant artistic director, coming up to me one day and telling me that John Meehan had mentioned me the day before.

“I’m very excited about this coming season,” David said John told him.

“Why?” David asked.

“Because there’s going to be a Misty Copeland and a David Hallberg,” John was quoted as saying, speaking of pieces featuring me and the brilliant young dancer who eventually became a principal with ABT. David said that John told him that I was very talented. I felt so validated, so appreciated, I could have achieved
ballon
and never come down.

Chapter 12

THE TECHNICAL BREAKTHROUGHS, THE
chances to dance with other companies and performers like Prince, and the words and demonstrations of support from Kevin McKenzie and others helped me to believe in my talent and to speak up for myself, not just about dance, culture, and art—but about race.

Knowing the footsteps of other black ballerinas who had come before also helped me to find my voice.

My introduction to Raven Wilkinson came while watching a documentary on the Ballet Russe. It was the first time I’d ever heard of her, which made me angry and happy at the same time. I was enraged that neither I, a young ballerina, nor many of my peers, had ever heard of Raven, yet I was overjoyed that I had finally found her.