“I want my students to feel like they made art”

Edition 24: An interview with Melissa Bierstock, Director of Ballet School of Kingston

Melissa Bierstock in the studio at Ballet School of Kingston (image by AJ Lee)

Over the winter of 2006 into 2007 — the winter when former FSB agent Alexander Litvinenko was fatally poisoned while sipping tea in a London hotel, and activist journalist Anna Politkovskaya was shot dead in the elevator of her Russian apartment building — I was living in Moscow. It was a wild time: 23 years old, hailing down random Lada’s to bar hop through the night; partying at the British Embassy below priceless paintings; knocking back vodkas at ‘Diaghilev’, the hottest club in the city — with a full size catwalk running down the center — that burned to the ground a few years later. отлично!

On rare nights when my roommate Claire and I were taking a break from Putin-era hedonism, we headed to the iconic Bolshoi Theatre to see the ballet. It was exquisite. The historic building and sumptuous red, symmetrical staircases. White tutus quivering across the stage, muscled legs leaping with beautiful precision, arms held in graceful curves. Audiences hushed and then roaring with gratitude, throwing endless clusters of roses at the feet of dancers who could conjure magic with their movements.   

Years later, I read a New Yorker article detailing the savage jealousies being played out behind the scenes at that same theater, resulting in dancers maiming each other with sulphuric acid. To me, this story seemed to encapsulate one of the abiding dichotomies of ballet: how can something so beautiful be so destructive? 

Happily, this question was not on my mind when I settled in to watch my daughter take part in the annual Ballet School of Kingston’s end of year performance earlier this summer. As I sat in the High School auditorium, awaiting the hopping on of “the bunnies” accompanied by Alice in Wonderland, all I felt was wonder and joy. For this was not a normal recital — it was a piece of collective art, involving kids aged 4 to 18 years old, each performing stories in handmade costumes, each feeling part of something bigger. Somehow, my spirited (ahem, stubborn) little girl was willing to put on her white outfit, bunny ears and all, wait patiently for her turn to jump and twirl in time with the music, and proudly take pictures with her bouquet and big brother post-performance. The whole endeavor was a feat of vision and organization — not just that night, but in the months leading up to it — and clearly could not have been achieved without a driving force willing it into being.  

That force is Melissa Bierstock, now the owner and Director of the Ballet School of Kingston. Herself a trained ballet dancer, Melissa has experienced first hand the intense highs and lows of this centuries old performing art. She too started at four years old, taking lessons at the same school she now runs and owns. “I found my thing. I was floating around the house, I was always jumping and spinning and dancing, never walking,” she told me, as if ballet were a calling, not a choice. 

The front entrance to Ballet School of Kingston (image by AJ Lee)

Back then, the school was the Anne Hebard School of Ballet, run by its namesake (a name that you still see on the sign outside the door.) Anne was Melissa’s mentor and Melissa remains dedicated to the Royal Academy style of classical ballet that Anne had brought with her from the UK: “It’s very pure. Dancers can go on to do anything. It’s less forceful, we were taught to teach the feeling first.” 

Inspired and encouraged after many years dancing in the Hudson Valley and traveling back and forth to the city for performances and extra training, Melissa began her journey towards professional dancing. That journey would take her to North Carolina, New York City, California, Canada, and eventually back to Kingston, NY. Despite experiences that lead her now to describe parts of the ballet experience as “toxic”, at times even “evil”, she remains in love with its transcendent physicality. 

Perhaps more miraculous than any performance, Melissa appears to have taken control of her ballet narrative, turning pain from the negative experiences — including what she alludes to as “me too” related — into a positive drive to create “a space for children to learn this beautiful discipline and let it blossom in them.” For while she does indeed believe in the importance of discipline (the students are given dress requirements even for practice; no dangly jewelry allowed), she seems determined to shed the destruction of ballet and focus on sharing the beauty: by challenging centuries-old norms of body shaming and aggressively forced technique, and fostering a place where people can find themselves in the art.  

After we had finished our interview and I was taking photographs in the studio, Melissa reflected on her career and particularly the hardships of getting through the last two years, juggling pandemic requirements and striving to keep creative dreams alive among her students. She seemed resolved: “This is me. This is what I believe in. If you don’t like it, that’s fine. But this is what I want ballet to be.”

The path may not be what she imagined or hoped as a little girl, but the calling remains as strong as ever. And I am grateful that my tiny dancer can follow in such strong footsteps. 

Here’s more from my conversation with Melissa. 

Photographs from many years of performances by the Ballet School of Kingston (image by AJ Lee)

AJ Lee: Melissa, thank you for taking the time to talk to me (a small window before your next lesson.) Let’s start at the beginning: when did you fall in love with ballet?
Melissa Bierstock: I started when I was your daughter’s age. I was living in Rhinebeck and came to this school. I found my thing. I was floating around the house, I was always jumping and spinning and dancing, never walking. In my baby book, every year my mom would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up. There was one year when I was nine when I wrote ‘artist’ — every other year it was ‘ballet dancer.’

I am a physical body person. I am a musician that can’t play music. My body knew how to interpret music — music comes first for me; and I didn’t have a way to express what I heard. And then I had ballet and it was love.

AJL: That childhood love turned into a lifelong career. Tell me more about your journey to becoming a professional dancer.
MB: I spent my teenage years at different programs during summer. Now you can do college or ballet, but in the ‘90s you had to choose. If you went to college you missed the window. I was a ‘strict classical ballet or nothing’ person so there were only four ballet schools in the country that I thought I could go to.  

I went to the North Carolina School of Arts but it was very toxic — the body stuff, the abuse of power. The ballet world probably should have been the first people to jump on the “me too” movement; the relationship between some of the teachers and students was ucky (sic.)

I was pretty depressed so I stopped auditioning and took classes here in Kingston. Then I went to Bard and studied Dance History, Philosophy and Religion.  I was trying to work out in my head that dance was the most beautiful thing in the world, but the world of it was so evil; I was trying to resolve that. How could it be so disciplined, so finite, so hard… and still have it be the beautiful thing that it is?

I was stuck on classical ballet, and I thought that there were only four companies that were good enough; that was a mistake. I went to Manhattan for a month then said ‘no,’ it was all too cruel, I felt like cattle. Why does someone else tell me if I get to dance or not?

So then I moved to Toronto and was there for 15 years. I did series of little shows for two years. Then I decided I just want to teach, and I let the performing for myself all go. I decided: I can’t reconcile it but I can teach it.

Melissa (R) as a younger dancer taking part in a performance at the Ballet School (image by AJ Lee)

AJL: I’m so sorry you had to go through that — thank you for sharing so honestly. You mentioned being focused on classical ballet versus other types. How do they differ and what style do you adhere to?
MB: Anne Hebard is from England and trained with the Royal Academy of Dance. She also credited her time at Harkness in NY with informing her kinetic teaching style and so those are the methods I am immersed in. Royal Academy style was created as a combination of the others — Russian, Italian, Danish, French. I find it very pure — detailed, progressive. Dancers trained in this method can go on to do anything. There is less emphasis on getting your leg as high as you can: it’s less forceful, we were taught to teach the feeling first and "the form will follow."

AJL: Ballet is such an age-old art form. Aside from the occasional movie like Black Swan, it can sometimes seem out of touch with contemporary life. How do you reconcile that? 
MB: I am a classicist; I love it and I don’t want to see it die. I saw the Paris Opera Ballet before the pandemic — I saw Gisele. All these mostly white women in these white outfits, so old and outdated — then this woman did this thing that was so exquisite the whole audience gasped, and tears were streaming down my face, and I thought, ‘this still matters’: finding that level of human ascension that inspires.

I love dancers like Marianela Núñez— one of the most superb ballet dancers I’ve ever seen in my life. My daughter and I go a lot to the city and really enjoy Isabella Boylston. But I also love the Nederlands Dans Theatre — very contemporary, their dancers are fierce. People like Crystal Pite, the choreographer, have taken ballet to a whole different place. Her work is a social statement — it’s not just beautiful; there’s a lot they are doing to make a statement with their bodies. 

AJL: You grew up in Rhinebeck. What drew you back to the Hudson Valley?
MB: I was in Toronto when 9/11 happened; I had a sister in Manhattan and one in DC, and I couldn’t get in touch with them. Plus, my daughter was three, and my then husband wanted another child, and I wanted to be closer to family. I needed help.

I had stayed in contact with Anne and would eventually take the school over. We spent another 10 years together, teaching and transitioning. The school became mine five years ago, and Anne’s last show as the Artistic Director was in December 2019 and I took over in January 2020. Anne was really happy it would stay in “the family.” 

I purposefully moved to Kingston. I like Ulster County, being on the other side of the river in terms of access to the mountains. There’s an interesting exchange of ideas here because we’re between upstate and down. From a ballet perspective, this is a great path to Manhattan and I encourage all my students to go see the live theater in the city. 

I have a bit of a love hate relationship with the area —  I never intended to come back here, but you can’t deny the river, mountains, the access to the city. In high school I felt “just get me out of here,” but having left and come back, I like what’s happening to the area: the new families, the coming together of ideas — to bring in art, theater, post-pandemic thoughts, the drive to make the world better for their children. It’s nice to be part of the change. 

Handmade leather masks Melissa had made for an end of year performance that sadly never saw the light of the stage due to the pandemic (image by AJ Lee)

AJL: Like so many vulnerable young women, you have been through a lot in the ballet world. How have those experiences shaped your vision for the ballet school today? 
MB: I really just want to provide a space for children to learn this beautiful discipline and let it blossom in them — to offer the best training in the most positive way that you can. It is a discipline and that’s important; and if they want to pursue a professional career I want to be able to do that for them.

I have super strong opinions about who I take on as teachers — I’m a pretty sensitive person, so I am sensitive to their state of mind. I want to hold a place for how hard this is to have your body be your instrument, especially for women. If your body becomes your enemy, it’s a problem. Being present for that process — it can’t be completely avoided; but I can try to make the most positive space possible, make sure my language is deliberate. We don’t talk about weight, we don’t weigh and measure. It’s language and subtleties — letting them know they are accepted. 

Part of it is not forcing technique. You look at Margot Fonteyn; she didn’t have what they expect of ballet bodies today; hers was proportionate to herself. I want students to see themselves as individuals.

Students taking part in the 2022 end of year performance: ‘Alice in Storyland’ (image by AJ Lee)

AJL: Last but by no means least, I was so inspired by the end of year performance that you created with the students. Something is clearly driving you to go beyond expectations. Tell me how you pulled it off.
MB: It is... a lot! I don’t like recitals. I don’t like pageantry: having kids paraded on stage to do three or four things; and I don’t like the families having to sit through that. I can’t choreograph like that because I like music. I need a storyline, or a theme. So I started doing Anne’s recitals a few years back — I said to her “I gotta have a theme.” One character through the whole thing. It ended up being more entertaining. I wanted an actual show.

I want to make the students feel like they made art, even when they are really young. You’re making a story with your body; not a three minute piece where you smile at parents. I don’t want it to be dinky — I want you to feel like you were part of creating something. 

AJL: Thank you, Melissa, for your openness and for all that you are doing to pave a more inclusive path for aspiring dancers.

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If you have an aspiring dancer in your family, do check out Ballet School of Kingston and performances by the Catskill Ballet Theatre Company. Other exciting developments: Upstate Taco has opened! Authentic Mexican food has arrived in Stone Ridge.