WINTER SEASON: A DANCER'S JOURNAL -- Excerpt 3

I am repeating myself, but I must. Suzanne Farrell just finished another “Diamonds,” and frankly I cannot put any words on paper to describe her magnificence, her giving. I watch her face and can only think of a love she has greater than I could ever contain. She is from God’s world – a direct disciple, I think. He has sent her down to brighten our lives and teach us of higher things. To me she is beauty itself – the word came after her presence. Each time she smiles, I can only cry, and I think of something I read about the sadness of beauty: just to find it is not so hard, but to bear it, that is impossible. If Suzanne were totally aware of the beauty she was creating, she would stop in awe of herself. She somehow makes life so much more than it is and then – well, I am absolutely at a loss.

I suppose the first reaction to such a sight and emotion is to define it. Isn’t that what critics do? By defining and trying to explain her we attempt, I’m sure, to submerge and put aside the sadness that her simple self evokes. She is not to be explained – she cannot be – but it is hard to bear such a sight. Surely any of our mortal words put down to explain her or describe her are absurd. She is, that is all; but how can we learn to bear it? Each time I finish “Rubies” and know that “Diamonds” is to follow, I wonder whether to subject myself to her or carry on my own little life in my own little world and do otherwise. But somehow I go back again and again for more – more and more sadness.

Someone pointed out to me the other day the incredible diamond décolleté of her costume – so many flashing rhinestones, they are blinding. I had never noticed. Her face, her smile, her eyes distract from the sparkle of her costume.