Well, I don't usually post translations on this blog, but since others have already translated this article, and the link has already been shared on the Mao Asada Fan Forum, I thought I would post my own translation here. ^_^
Why bother translating if someone already has? Well, I figure that everyone translates things differently, and I enjoy translating the articles by Naoko Utsunomiya because she is the one who has been writing the yearly books about Mao, and seems to understand her well. And most of all, she truly seems to love Mao.
So here it is! Enjoy!
************************************
My fate is mostly decided
Naoko Utsunomiya
Sports Graphic Number 769
Mao Asada tells the truth about her silver medal in Vancouver and her gold at the World Championships. The Olympics where her silver medal shone, and she lost her rival.
The World Championships where she stood on the center of the podium one month later.
On her dream stage, she carried the big expectations of Japan. She spoke about how she felt on the ice, and her thoughts about her medals.
“The Olympics have been my dream since I was small. That’s why, after it was decided that I would compete there, I felt like I had to try harder than I usually do.
At the very least, I didn’t want to think ‘I should have practiced this more,’ so I practiced until I was satisfied that I wouldn’t feel that way.
Before I left for Canada, I become quite nervous. But when I arrived, I was fine. In Vancouver, the whole city was caught up in the Olympics, and I thought, ‘it really is different from a normal competition.’
It seemed that everyone was enjoying the Olympics, so I was also excited. From that point on, I tried to enjoy my time there.”
In truth, Asada did enjoy that grandest stage. She was joyful. However, before she reached that point, her days were filled with all kinds of complications.
There was once a time when she was called both a “fairy” and an “angel.” However, in reality she was very much human-like. There were times when she suffered, and when she worried.
Beyond her skating ability, another thing that I find extraordinary about her is her “ability to forget.” She forgets things that happen right away. To the point that it’s hard to believe. That’s why she is strong.
What I am recording from here are Mao Asada’s words. She spoke for a long time. Without faltering, without hesitating, without embellishing, she looked at herself with a strict eye.
“During the Olympic season, I wasn’t able to practice with Tatiana (Tarasova)-sensei very much. If I add it all up, it was probably 4 sessions of 10 days each.
She created a level 4 step sequence for me, and brought out a new side of me, so I’m grateful.
However, because we met so infrequently, so we couldn’t properly build a relationship of trust.
To stay in Russia full time was impossible for me. I love Japan, and I didn’t have that kind of courage.
In Japan, Zhanna-sensei (Tarasova’s assistant) looked after me. While we practiced, Mama would always interrupt, so we even got into arguments. ‘I’ll do it with Zhanna, so don’t interrupt’ I said. (Laughs)
I knew from the start of the season that my jumps were messed up. For a long time, I had been thinking that I wanted to fix them properly, but I knew that even if I tried to fix them before the Olympics, I absolutely wouldn’t make it in time.
So, for the Olympics, I decided to go with the best jump layout I could do. In other words, three triple axels.
I am often asked, didn’t you think of a back-up plan? But doesn’t thinking of a back-up plan in itself mean that you think, ‘I’ll fail at the axel; I won’t be able to do it”?
I thought, that’s something that I can’t really do.
At the Olympics, I will absolutely do three triple axels! That’s what I thought.”
A jump layout that depends on triple axels is probably somewhat reckless. However, for Asada as she was then, it was the very best layout. You could even say it was only way she could compete.
Furthermore, the challenge of the triple axels helped her maintain her motivation. After the 2009 Rostelecom Cup (Grand Prix Cup of Russia), she was exhausted, and she was starting to lose her desire to go to the Olympics.
“After [the competition in] Russia, if I had stayed in that state while training for Vancouver, I don’t think I would have been able to control my feelings or my body.
What changed my mindset was going to Korea for the Four Continents Championship. I ate yakiniku and ddobboki [spicy rice cakes] and became cheerful, so it was a good diversion for me.
I entered Canada on February 20.
This happens before every big competition, but for a few days before I set off, I am unable to eat anything. I become rock-bottom depressed. If this doesn’t happen, then things don’t go well—contrary to what you would think.
The same thing happened before I went to Vancouver, but I practiced to the point that I could say ‘I can’t do any more than this,’ so I didn’t feel nervous.
I started practicing in Vancouver on the day I arrived in Canada. Competing in the Olympics was my dream from when I was 10 years old, so because of that, you would think I’d have some kind of special thoughts, but when I stood on the rink, all I thought was, “Oh, it’s the Olympics!” It was super fun.
And then, I was happy that the food at the athletes’ village was delicious. My favorite was yogurt with maple syrup on top.
In addition, there were all kinds of foods like sushi and Italian and Chinese, and no matter how much you ate, it was all free. (Laughs)
Before the short program, Tarasova came, so I was glad. For me, it was my first Olympic appearance, but Sensei had experienced it many times before, so I could be strong.”
“My goal at the Olympics was to win and do my short and free programs perfectly. Especially the short program. I thought that winning would depend on the short program.
In reality, I did very well in the short program. Even I thought that I would get my season best score (73.78). The triple axel combination jump was good, and other than the steps, I got all level 4s, so I was very satisfied.
However, I was in second place, and between me and Yu-Na in first place, there was a pretty large point gap (4.72), and so I thought that even if I were to be at 100%, if she didn’t make any mistakes it would be hard for me to come from behind and win.
Yu-Na and I have been seen as rivals since we were young, but we’re the same age, and I think we were able to reach this point because we’ve motivated each other.
While practicing, there were times when I was conscious of thinking “Yu-Na must be trying hard.” With this in mind, I have been able to think, “I’ll work even harder.”
At the Olympics, I thought, “Ah, this is my biggest competition against Yu-Na.” That was it.
Other than that, I focused on myself. ‘Just bring out everything you can do—if you can do that, there will be no regrets.’ That’s what I thought.
On the day of the ladies’ free program, there were no empty seats. Even in the far-away reaches of the arena, there were Japanese flags in every direction, and many were being waved.
The competition went on without delay. And Kim did not make any mistakes. Her total score was 228.56. This score was one that you see in the men’s competition, which has different elements, and it was the highest ladies’ score in history.
“After the short program, of course I thought that it would be better to have a gold medal rather than a silver. (Laughs) But I did not feel pressure to medal. My desire to land the triple axels was stronger.”
Once the competition started, I was not conscious of Yu-Na at all. However, I was scheduled to skate right after Yu-Na, so I could hear the terrific cheering, and I thought, “Ah, it must have been an amazing performance.’
Other than that, I was completely in my own world. While warming up, I checked the feel of the ice. The ice was not bad. I had a good feel for it. If I think about it now, I was calm, I think.
In my free program as well, the beginning was good. I landed the triple axels, and I thought, “If I can keep going like this, I can give my best performance of the season.” No mistakes, perfect, 100%.
However, that was only the 2 minutes of the first half. Before the flip, my body became stiff. Once I thought about the score, my body changed. It wasn’t natural. And then, I underrotated the jump.
As for the toe loop which I singled—that was because I got stuck in a divot (a hole in the ice rink). It’s a jump I can do anytime, but at that time, my foot got pretty stuck, so it was impossible.
It was extremely vexing. Even if I recall it now, it’s upsetting.
Right after I finished skating, I didn’t care about anything, not even my placement. All I could think was that I didn’t give a good performance and was upset.
Before my score (205.50) came out , I already knew, ‘it’s over (I can’t win).’ Once I messed up my jumps, I thought that.
In the end, I was second. Even so, it’s really vexing. If I had done my performance properly and ended up second, I probably would have been satisfied, but I wasn’t able to do that.
In the kiss and cry, I didn’t cry, but in the interview after that, I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t clear my head at all.
That’s why, even though I was asked, ‘How do you feel now?’, I wasn’t able to answer anything. All that came out was ‘Aah.’ In my heart, I felt, ‘The Olympics just finished.’
When was it that I recovered, I wonder…During the medals ceremony, in the beginning it was painful, but when I received my medal, and when the ‘Hi no maru’ [Japanese flag] was raised, my joy was pretty amazing.
The Olympics really were special. I was really moved. That, and, at the medals ceremony, I strongly felt like I was a representative of Japan.
After all, the Olympics are a competition between nations, aren’t they? The result was a silver medal, but I thought, I’m glad I was able to win a medal. When I went around the rink holding the Japanese flag, I was really happy.
Leaving behind a pleasant, exulted feeling, Mao Asada’s first Olympics ended.
And then, after the Olympics, the season moved to Torino, Italy.
“After I returned from Canada, I rested for about two days, and then I returned to my previous routine. I did think, ‘I wish I could rest more,’ but Torino [Worlds] was approaching, so I tried not to lose focus.
But truthfully, it was really difficult. I probably felt a little bit of burnout. But then, I changed my mindset. ‘I’ll do what I can do!’
For the Olympics, I practiced a lot, so if I gave as much effort as I usually do, I figured that I’d be fine at Worlds too. Before I went to Torino, I didn’t get depressed. It was like I had become free, unshackled.”
At the World Championships, the Vancouver gold medalist, Yu-Na Kim, among other talented skaters were gathered, and a gorgeous stage was prepared.
“My goal was to skate perfectly—only that. In the short program, my triple axel was downgraded, but I thought I did a good job.
After the short program, there was a lot of time until the free program, so I ate gelato. The milk flavor was delicious.
Before Vancouver, I tried my best very stoically. That’s why Torino was so fun. My mood was completely forward-looking, and I completely believed in myself.
In the free program, I was determined to do the flip and toe loop that I messed up at the Olympics, no matter what.
And, the results [I wanted] came. Both axels were counted as underrotated, but other than that, I thought my performance was really good.
In terms of the short program, my Olympic performance was the best. But, for the free program, my performance at Torino was the best. Just because of that, I was happy, and then because I won, I was really happy. My mood became more and more fun.
My total score (Torino—197.58) was lower than at the Olympics, but I felt strongly that I brought out the results I wanted.
The competitions always have different judges, and depending on the competition, the scoring is completely different. So I don’t really pay attention to the scores, or let them bother me.
For me, the most important thing is doing all the elements I’m supposed to do properly, then #2 is the placement I get, and #3 is the score.
If I had been able to give the free program performance I gave in Torino at the Vancouver Olympics, then I don’t think it would have been so vexing, and I don’t think I would have cried. That was how satisfied I felt at the World Championships.
However, I was able to do that because I made mistakes at the Olympics. In the end, I guess you have to let things happen as they happen.
Fate—it’s mostly decided, isn’t it? If you work hard, then the future is already decided. That’s how I feel.
When I received my medal on the podium, I thought, ‘A gold medal really is great.’ I don’t compare it to my medal from Vancouver, but I definitely thought that gold is good.
My gold medal from Torino is proof that I challenged myself with the most difficult elements and performed my programs properly. That makes me the most happy, and I’m glad I was able to do that.”
However, the most precious medal to Mao Asada is her Vancouver silver medal. While she was speaking, she said over and over again that ‘the Olympics are special.’ With a joyful smile, she said this. That was her 2009-2010 season.
December 2010. Asada was practicing in Yokohama.
This season, her condition has been terrible. Especially her jumps. She keeps making mistakes. However, the people around her are not as depressed as you would think. They seem cheerful.
“I guess it has been the most painful time for me. But, I’ve been wanting to change my jumps for a long time, and if I’m going to change them, I have to do it this season. That’s why, I’m okay with it.
There is one week until the All-Japan National Championships. Depending on how much I can do in the next week, I will be able to see the results. I think it’s a very important time for me.
Nationals will determine whether I maintain my winning streak and go to Worlds, but I’m only thinking about doing the things I have to do. I will do all six types of jumps. I don’t plan to leave any out.
I want to give a performance that will make the people who are worried for me think, ‘she did well,’ and I will try my best to meet their expectations.”
Asada is an unwieldy/clumsy competitor. She can’t go on without forever challenging herself.
And even now, she will keep challenging herself.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Happy Belated Birthday, Mao-chan!!
Last week Saturday, September 25, was Mao's 20th birthday!!
She's officially an adult in Japan!
Here she is celebrating at Chuukyou University ice rink with her new coach, Nobuo Sato, her sister Mai, and Takahiko Kozuka (another of Sato-sensei's pupils and a fellow Chuukyo Univ. student)!
Champagne! Yummy! ^_^
As with many members of the Mao Asada Fan Forum, I wrote a short message for Mao to be included on a DVD for her.
You can watch the English version here:
And here is the Japanese version:
Here is the text of my messages to Mao:
And the Japanese version (which I translated myself, so it might not be 100% accurate)...
Here's to a happy, healthy year! GOO MAO!!
She's officially an adult in Japan!
Here she is celebrating at Chuukyou University ice rink with her new coach, Nobuo Sato, her sister Mai, and Takahiko Kozuka (another of Sato-sensei's pupils and a fellow Chuukyo Univ. student)!
Champagne! Yummy! ^_^
As with many members of the Mao Asada Fan Forum, I wrote a short message for Mao to be included on a DVD for her.
You can watch the English version here:
And here is the Japanese version:
Here is the text of my messages to Mao:
Dear Mao,
Happy Birthday!
It has been almost 5 years since I first saw you skate at the 2005 Grand Prix Final on TV and became your fan.
I was impressed by the beauty of your skating, and the lightness of your jumps, but most of all, I was enchanted by the joy you brought to your skating and your smile. I know that you "don't like to lose," but to me, you have always been a skater who skates not for medals, but because you love it.
Please don't forget your love of skating. I think you are the best skater in the world, and I would be so happy if you won every competition, but most of all, I want to see your beautiful smile.
Surely there will be more challenges and hard times in the seasons to come, but in the end, I believe you will triumph. Because in the end, you always overcome.
I’m looking forward to seeing you smile at the World Championships in Japan next year.
Good luck!
-Your loyal fan
And the Japanese version (which I translated myself, so it might not be 100% accurate)...
真央ちゃんへ
お誕生日おめでとう！
真央ちゃんの2005 Grand Prix Finalの演技を見て、大ファンになってからもう五年間たちました。
その時、真央ちゃんの美しいスパイラルや軽やかなジャンプや滑らかなスケーティングが印象的でしたが、一番魅力的だったのは真央ちゃんの笑顔でした。あの演技に真央ちゃんの喜びと興奮が溢れていたそうです。真央ちゃんは「負けず嫌い」といっても、私の意見では、メダルのためじゃなくて、フィギュアスケートが大好きだから滑ります。
スケートの楽しさを絶対に忘れないでください。真央ちゃんはスケーターの中で、一番素晴らしくて、最高の選手だと思うので、全部の大会で金メダルをとってほしいですが、それよりも、真央ちゃんの眩しい笑顔を見たいです！
これから、きっと不調な時も辛い時も来ると思いますが、最後に真央ちゃんは絶対に成功すると信じます。真央ちゃんはいつも乗り越えますから。
来年の世界選手権で、真央ちゃんの最高の笑顔を楽しみにしています！
攻める気持ちで頑張ってください！
Here's to a happy, healthy year! GOO MAO!!
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Ballerina on Ice
As I’m sure many of you know, Mao Asada announced her music choices for the 2010-11 season a few weeks ago. I was thrilled to learn that Mao would finally be skating to Liszt’s “Liebestraum,” a song that seems to fit her perfectly, and I was very excited to see what she does with one of Alfred Schnittke’s tangos.
But what nearly caused me to fall out of my chair, was Mao’s choice for her exhibition: Chopin’s “Ballade No. 1 in G Minor.”
Because I have been obsessing over that song ever since I saw it used in the ballet “Lady of the Camellias” a month ago. John Neumeier, the choreographer, uses it for the final, passion-filled pas de deux, and with the phenomenal Diana Vishneva and Marcelo Gomes playing the leads, it was absolutely devastating.
(Click here to see part of the pas de deux, as danced by the legendary Alessandra Ferri and the “Italian stallion,” Roberto Bolle.)
This past weekend, we got to see Mao Asada perform her new exhibition for the first time, at the 2010 Dreams on Ice show. She revealed that the story for the exhibition is that of a ballerina practicing, and everything, from the simple white dress and her slicked-back hair, was chosen to give that image.
I have always thought of Mao as a ballerina on ice, and it has been a dream of mine to see her skate in a white costume. So to see her portray a ballerina all in white AND skate to my favorite Chopin piece of all time was like three dreams come true for me.
Mao Asada’s 2010-11 Exhibition
“Ballade No. 1 in G Minor” by Frederick Chopin
(Click on the YouTube icon to watch it in HD--it's worth it!)
After seeing Mao skate, though, I had to wonder, has Tatiana Tarasova, the choreographer, seen the ballet “Lady of the Camellias”?!! Could it be that she saw the Act III pas de deux and was just as moved as I was?!! Was that her inspiration?!
The costume looks awfully similar to Mao’s, don’t you think? Hmmm...
Mao’s new exhibition is already a dream come true for me. But if it turns out that it was indeed inspired by the “Lady of the Camellias” ballet, it would be even more incredible, because it would be the perfect intersection of all the things I love.
But what nearly caused me to fall out of my chair, was Mao’s choice for her exhibition: Chopin’s “Ballade No. 1 in G Minor.”
Because I have been obsessing over that song ever since I saw it used in the ballet “Lady of the Camellias” a month ago. John Neumeier, the choreographer, uses it for the final, passion-filled pas de deux, and with the phenomenal Diana Vishneva and Marcelo Gomes playing the leads, it was absolutely devastating.
(Click here to see part of the pas de deux, as danced by the legendary Alessandra Ferri and the “Italian stallion,” Roberto Bolle.)
This past weekend, we got to see Mao Asada perform her new exhibition for the first time, at the 2010 Dreams on Ice show. She revealed that the story for the exhibition is that of a ballerina practicing, and everything, from the simple white dress and her slicked-back hair, was chosen to give that image.
Ballerina on Ice
I have always thought of Mao as a ballerina on ice, and it has been a dream of mine to see her skate in a white costume. So to see her portray a ballerina all in white AND skate to my favorite Chopin piece of all time was like three dreams come true for me.
Mao Asada’s 2010-11 Exhibition
“Ballade No. 1 in G Minor” by Frederick Chopin
(Click on the YouTube icon to watch it in HD--it's worth it!)
After seeing Mao skate, though, I had to wonder, has Tatiana Tarasova, the choreographer, seen the ballet “Lady of the Camellias”?!! Could it be that she saw the Act III pas de deux and was just as moved as I was?!! Was that her inspiration?!
Here’s a picture of Lucia Lacarra in the final scene of the ballet:
(From the Teatro Alla Scala website)
The costume looks awfully similar to Mao’s, don’t you think? Hmmm...
Mao’s new exhibition is already a dream come true for me. But if it turns out that it was indeed inspired by the “Lady of the Camellias” ballet, it would be even more incredible, because it would be the perfect intersection of all the things I love.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Musings on artistry (Part 3)—Being “in the moment”
When reflecting on artistry and expression, I recall a lesson I learned in ballet class about a month ago. My ballet teacher—who once worked with legendary choreographers, danced in the original Broadway production of “West Side Story,” and rubbed shoulders with movie stars—was emphasizing the importance of being “in the moment.”
She had us do a simple port de bras: with the arms rounded and held down in front of the hips (like a pair of parentheses), you raise them up, preserving the roundness, to mid-torso level, and then open the arms wide. While you do this, you are supposed to follow the movement of your hand with your eyes and head.
Now, in my less-than-humble opinion, I do lovely port de bras, with flowy wrists and soft fingers. However, my teacher took one look at me, and said, “No, no no. You’re not seeing your hand.” And it was true; I was inclining my eyes in the direction of my hands, but I was really half-admiring my reflection in the mirror.
“You have to see your hands!” she commanded. So I did it again, but this time I actually focused on my hands. I genuinely watched them move through space.
My teacher’s response: “There, that’s so much better!”
***
This experience was a sort of epiphany for me. Because “looking” without “seeing” is precisely what I see when I watch Yu-Na Kim perform.
In my opinion, Yu-Na Kim does all the choreographed movements perfectly; she gets all the facial expressions correct, but I feel like she is merely “doing” it without “feeling” it. It doesn’t seem genuine to me.
Akiko Suzuki, on the other hand, is also called an expressive skater, but everything she does seems genuine to me. That’s real fire in her tango, and real joy in her “West Side Story” routine.
And this, I realize, is why I can love both gentle Mao Asada and fiery Diana Vishneva—because both seem to be honest in their performances, no matter how wildly different they may be.
Personally, I’d rather see Mao Asada genuinely caught up in her own performance, completely forgetting about the audience, than the “Look! I'm emoting!!” style favored by Yu-Na Kim.
The same goes for ballerinas—I love Vishneva and all her over-the-top drama because I’m convinced that she’s absolutely crazy—about ballet. This is the artist who rehearsed the mere act of opening the door in “Giselle” five-hundred times (five hundred!) to make it perfect. This is the performer who crashed into a scenery piece while exiting the stage but returned to finish the ballet, bloody knee and all. This is the ballerina I can see dancing until she drops dead onstage. So while other people may find Vishneva too wild, too passionate, I love it—she’s 100% convincing to me.
In contrast, Natalia Osipova, the Bolshoi ballerina known for her gravity-defying leaps and speedy turns, left me cold when I saw her perform in “La Sylphide” last summer. Like the people sitting around me, I was amazed by her technique, but while they swooned, I cringed at every artificial expression that seemed to say, “here’s my cute face,” and “here’s my sad face,” and “Look-now I’m dying!”
Unsurprisingly, honesty in performance is another quality dancers admire about my other favorite ballerina, Julie Kent. ABT soloist Cory Stearns said, “I feel when Julie Kent dances, she finds something so deep inside of herself and brings it out.” Miami City Ballet principal Jennifer Carylnn Korneberg echoes, “I'd have to say that the ballerina I admire most from this generation though is Julie Kent. She has such an honesty, purity and selflessness about her dancing that takes my breath away.”
So it seems that the quality of “being in the moment” rather than “showing me the moment”—the ability to not only portray a certain emotion but also to find something inside oneself to make it true—THIS is what I value most in terms of performing.
Truth and beauty. That’s all I ask for.
She had us do a simple port de bras: with the arms rounded and held down in front of the hips (like a pair of parentheses), you raise them up, preserving the roundness, to mid-torso level, and then open the arms wide. While you do this, you are supposed to follow the movement of your hand with your eyes and head.
Now, in my less-than-humble opinion, I do lovely port de bras, with flowy wrists and soft fingers. However, my teacher took one look at me, and said, “No, no no. You’re not seeing your hand.” And it was true; I was inclining my eyes in the direction of my hands, but I was really half-admiring my reflection in the mirror.
“You have to see your hands!” she commanded. So I did it again, but this time I actually focused on my hands. I genuinely watched them move through space.
My teacher’s response: “There, that’s so much better!”
***
This experience was a sort of epiphany for me. Because “looking” without “seeing” is precisely what I see when I watch Yu-Na Kim perform.
In my opinion, Yu-Na Kim does all the choreographed movements perfectly; she gets all the facial expressions correct, but I feel like she is merely “doing” it without “feeling” it. It doesn’t seem genuine to me.
Akiko Suzuki, on the other hand, is also called an expressive skater, but everything she does seems genuine to me. That’s real fire in her tango, and real joy in her “West Side Story” routine.
And this, I realize, is why I can love both gentle Mao Asada and fiery Diana Vishneva—because both seem to be honest in their performances, no matter how wildly different they may be.
Personally, I’d rather see Mao Asada genuinely caught up in her own performance, completely forgetting about the audience, than the “Look! I'm emoting!!” style favored by Yu-Na Kim.
The same goes for ballerinas—I love Vishneva and all her over-the-top drama because I’m convinced that she’s absolutely crazy—about ballet. This is the artist who rehearsed the mere act of opening the door in “Giselle” five-hundred times (five hundred!) to make it perfect. This is the performer who crashed into a scenery piece while exiting the stage but returned to finish the ballet, bloody knee and all. This is the ballerina I can see dancing until she drops dead onstage. So while other people may find Vishneva too wild, too passionate, I love it—she’s 100% convincing to me.
In contrast, Natalia Osipova, the Bolshoi ballerina known for her gravity-defying leaps and speedy turns, left me cold when I saw her perform in “La Sylphide” last summer. Like the people sitting around me, I was amazed by her technique, but while they swooned, I cringed at every artificial expression that seemed to say, “here’s my cute face,” and “here’s my sad face,” and “Look-now I’m dying!”
Unsurprisingly, honesty in performance is another quality dancers admire about my other favorite ballerina, Julie Kent. ABT soloist Cory Stearns said, “I feel when Julie Kent dances, she finds something so deep inside of herself and brings it out.” Miami City Ballet principal Jennifer Carylnn Korneberg echoes, “I'd have to say that the ballerina I admire most from this generation though is Julie Kent. She has such an honesty, purity and selflessness about her dancing that takes my breath away.”
So it seems that the quality of “being in the moment” rather than “showing me the moment”—the ability to not only portray a certain emotion but also to find something inside oneself to make it true—THIS is what I value most in terms of performing.
Truth and beauty. That’s all I ask for.
Musings on artistry (Part 2)—“Beauty in motion”
After considerable self-reflection, I have realized that there are three things I look for in terms of artistry: beauty, musicality, and expression.
“Beauty” stems from the skater or dancer’s technical prowess/physical ability—does she have beautiful lines and positions? Does she carry herself gracefully? Is she flexible; does she turn out? If I took a snapshot of this position, would it be beautiful? Is her execution flawless? Does she make the steps seem effortless?
I love both Mao and Vishneva because they are—to borrow the title of Vishneva’s solo show—“beauty in motion.” Vishneva herself said, “When you turn your technique into lightness, that’s what is worthwhile.”
And that is what I see when I see both Mao and Vishneva perform—an uncanny ability to appear lighter than air, like impossibly ethereal beings. They make even the most difficult, complex steps look effortless and beautiful.
These qualities appear to be the very ones that ballet dancers themselves admire. Two of the ABT corps de ballet members picked my other favorite, Julie Kent, as the dancer they most admire for these reasons. Melanie Hamrick said, “She is the essence of a ballerina and beauty; even if she’s doing something that is so hard, she looks weightless and effortless.” And Hee Seo echoed, “I think the most important thing—and it took me years to come to this conclusion—is that you have to be beautiful. Julie Kent is the most beautiful dancer in ABT. She’s not doing large, big pirouettes, but she is so beautiful.”
Julie Kent and Roberto Bolle in MacMillan’s “Romeo and Juliet”
Perhaps it is because of my ballet training, and perhaps because of my extreme attention to detail, but I value beauty in dancing and in skating very highly. And since I am very flexible despite sitting in an office all day long, I am extremely critical of the lady skaters who lack flexibility (which seem to be the majority). I instinctively look for beautiful body lines and extension, and I can’t help but cringe when I see awkward, ungainly positions.
And this is why I can be perfectly content watching top-class dancers or skaters practice even the simplest steps. There might be no music, they might be completely unaware of my presence and making no effort to perform, but the sheer beauty and apparent effortlessness of their movement is enough to keep me fascinated.
***
Beyond the exceptionally pretty technique, there is the innate musicality of Mao and Vishneva that I admire. Other dancers and skaters may seem to respond well to the music, they may seem to express it well, but in the case of Mao and Vishneva, I feel as if the music is flowing through them.
A friend of Rudolf Nureyev once exclaimed, “You are a Stradivarius,” while watching him dance on the grass without any music other than the beat of his own heart. “Inside you are singing, and the steps are coming.” This is what I feel when I watch Vishneva and Mao: their bodies seem to be the very instruments producing the sound.
To me, they are able to do this because they use their entire bodies—not just the arms and the face, but the entire torso and back—to express the music. I am used to watching ballet from the back of the balcony. I can barely see the performer’s face, but if she carries the music in her body—in the curve of her back, the tension her shoulder blades—then I can feel the emotion. Expression through the body is extremely important to me.
Mao Asada dancing to the music in her heart
(This is from the 'making of' video for Mao's 2009 Asience CM.)
But what about “performing”?
“Beauty” stems from the skater or dancer’s technical prowess/physical ability—does she have beautiful lines and positions? Does she carry herself gracefully? Is she flexible; does she turn out? If I took a snapshot of this position, would it be beautiful? Is her execution flawless? Does she make the steps seem effortless?
I love both Mao and Vishneva because they are—to borrow the title of Vishneva’s solo show—“beauty in motion.” Vishneva herself said, “When you turn your technique into lightness, that’s what is worthwhile.”
And that is what I see when I see both Mao and Vishneva perform—an uncanny ability to appear lighter than air, like impossibly ethereal beings. They make even the most difficult, complex steps look effortless and beautiful.
These qualities appear to be the very ones that ballet dancers themselves admire. Two of the ABT corps de ballet members picked my other favorite, Julie Kent, as the dancer they most admire for these reasons. Melanie Hamrick said, “She is the essence of a ballerina and beauty; even if she’s doing something that is so hard, she looks weightless and effortless.” And Hee Seo echoed, “I think the most important thing—and it took me years to come to this conclusion—is that you have to be beautiful. Julie Kent is the most beautiful dancer in ABT. She’s not doing large, big pirouettes, but she is so beautiful.”
Julie Kent and Roberto Bolle in MacMillan’s “Romeo and Juliet”
Perhaps it is because of my ballet training, and perhaps because of my extreme attention to detail, but I value beauty in dancing and in skating very highly. And since I am very flexible despite sitting in an office all day long, I am extremely critical of the lady skaters who lack flexibility (which seem to be the majority). I instinctively look for beautiful body lines and extension, and I can’t help but cringe when I see awkward, ungainly positions.
And this is why I can be perfectly content watching top-class dancers or skaters practice even the simplest steps. There might be no music, they might be completely unaware of my presence and making no effort to perform, but the sheer beauty and apparent effortlessness of their movement is enough to keep me fascinated.
***
Beyond the exceptionally pretty technique, there is the innate musicality of Mao and Vishneva that I admire. Other dancers and skaters may seem to respond well to the music, they may seem to express it well, but in the case of Mao and Vishneva, I feel as if the music is flowing through them.
A friend of Rudolf Nureyev once exclaimed, “You are a Stradivarius,” while watching him dance on the grass without any music other than the beat of his own heart. “Inside you are singing, and the steps are coming.” This is what I feel when I watch Vishneva and Mao: their bodies seem to be the very instruments producing the sound.
To me, they are able to do this because they use their entire bodies—not just the arms and the face, but the entire torso and back—to express the music. I am used to watching ballet from the back of the balcony. I can barely see the performer’s face, but if she carries the music in her body—in the curve of her back, the tension her shoulder blades—then I can feel the emotion. Expression through the body is extremely important to me.
Mao Asada dancing to the music in her heart
(This is from the 'making of' video for Mao's 2009 Asience CM.)
But what about “performing”?
Musings on artistry (Part 1)—My conundrum
I know I haven't posted about Mao's journey for awhile, and I do intend to get back to that eventually, but in the meantime, here are some of my thoughts on artistry--this is something I've thought a lot about recently...
****
For me, summer means ballet, and last year’s season gave me fresh fodder for determining what exactly I consider to be superior “artistry” and “expression.”
And after 2009 Worlds, when everyone was raving incessantly about Yu-Na Kim, I felt a need to analyze and articulate why I disliked her style so much. Although I had never been a fan of hers, I could readily acknowledge that she was very good: she has huge, powerful jumps, great speed and a discernable polish to her performances. Starting in the 2008-09 season, however, her style and expression really began to annoy me.
As I mentioned in one of my early posts, comparing Mao Asada and Yu-Na Kim is quite tricky. They lack the obvious physical differences that separate, say, gymnasts Nastia Liukin and Shawn Johnson. So by analyzing and articulating why I like Mao and why I don’t like Yu-Na, I have learned a lot about what I personally value in terms of aesthetics, expression and artistry.
***
I freely acknowledge (and have often seen) that other people will disagree with my opinions. I took ballet lessons from a very young age and played the violin; those experiences have definitely shaped my views on artistry. But I think that most people haven’t had the classical training I received, so they don’t look for ballet lines, and they focus primarily on facial expression instead of full-body expression.
I had long known that I loved Mao because she is a ballerina on ice—such flexibility, such gorgeous lines, such graceful lightness. On the other hand, Yu-Na lacks flexibility (though not as badly as others), and although she might be “dramatic,” she generally is not that graceful, and she does not emote through her whole body.
And up until summer 2009, I figured that I favored Mao, who was sometimes accused of lacking expression in her face, because facial expression doesn’t really matter to me.
Indeed, I had a clear history of picking the graceful, beautiful, subtle performers as my favorites—even though others called them “cold,” “expressionless,” or “boring.” During the 2008 Summer Olympics, I was a big fan of Nastia Liukin, with her gorgeous lines and balletic grace, but others called her “bitchy-looking” compared to the “effervescent” Shawn Johnson. And it was not until I saw the willowy, ethereal Julie Kent that I became obsessed with ballet, even though others found her “cold.” Even my favorite violinist, Julia Fischer, is notoriously anti-flashy, anti-celebrity; she uses her superlative technical talent to let the beauty of the music speak for itself.
Last summer, however, the legendary ballerina Diana Vishneva turned my world upside down. Here was a performer who is known as much for her force-of-nature on-stage persona as for her “exceptionally pretty technique.”
Here was an artist who demands attention and so fully captivates viewers that the New York Times dance critic Alastair Macauley once wrote, “The sheer luster of her presence is often startling; I know of no dancer today who so gloriously seems a source of light.”
Diana Vishneva in Don Quixote
After the Opening Night Gala where I saw her dance live for the first time, she became my absolute, uncontestable favorite.
But this development created quite a conundrum for me. How could I reconcile my adoration of the soft, subtle Mao Asada and my love for the fiery Vishneva? And how could I so turned off by Yu-Na Kim’s diva-ish performances but awed by Vishneva’s ability to own the stage? How could I make sense of these seemingly contradictory preferences?
****
For me, summer means ballet, and last year’s season gave me fresh fodder for determining what exactly I consider to be superior “artistry” and “expression.”
And after 2009 Worlds, when everyone was raving incessantly about Yu-Na Kim, I felt a need to analyze and articulate why I disliked her style so much. Although I had never been a fan of hers, I could readily acknowledge that she was very good: she has huge, powerful jumps, great speed and a discernable polish to her performances. Starting in the 2008-09 season, however, her style and expression really began to annoy me.
As I mentioned in one of my early posts, comparing Mao Asada and Yu-Na Kim is quite tricky. They lack the obvious physical differences that separate, say, gymnasts Nastia Liukin and Shawn Johnson. So by analyzing and articulating why I like Mao and why I don’t like Yu-Na, I have learned a lot about what I personally value in terms of aesthetics, expression and artistry.
***
I freely acknowledge (and have often seen) that other people will disagree with my opinions. I took ballet lessons from a very young age and played the violin; those experiences have definitely shaped my views on artistry. But I think that most people haven’t had the classical training I received, so they don’t look for ballet lines, and they focus primarily on facial expression instead of full-body expression.
Ballerina on ice
I had long known that I loved Mao because she is a ballerina on ice—such flexibility, such gorgeous lines, such graceful lightness. On the other hand, Yu-Na lacks flexibility (though not as badly as others), and although she might be “dramatic,” she generally is not that graceful, and she does not emote through her whole body.
And up until summer 2009, I figured that I favored Mao, who was sometimes accused of lacking expression in her face, because facial expression doesn’t really matter to me.
Indeed, I had a clear history of picking the graceful, beautiful, subtle performers as my favorites—even though others called them “cold,” “expressionless,” or “boring.” During the 2008 Summer Olympics, I was a big fan of Nastia Liukin, with her gorgeous lines and balletic grace, but others called her “bitchy-looking” compared to the “effervescent” Shawn Johnson. And it was not until I saw the willowy, ethereal Julie Kent that I became obsessed with ballet, even though others found her “cold.” Even my favorite violinist, Julia Fischer, is notoriously anti-flashy, anti-celebrity; she uses her superlative technical talent to let the beauty of the music speak for itself.
Last summer, however, the legendary ballerina Diana Vishneva turned my world upside down. Here was a performer who is known as much for her force-of-nature on-stage persona as for her “exceptionally pretty technique.”
Here was an artist who demands attention and so fully captivates viewers that the New York Times dance critic Alastair Macauley once wrote, “The sheer luster of her presence is often startling; I know of no dancer today who so gloriously seems a source of light.”
Diana Vishneva in Don Quixote
After the Opening Night Gala where I saw her dance live for the first time, she became my absolute, uncontestable favorite.
But this development created quite a conundrum for me. How could I reconcile my adoration of the soft, subtle Mao Asada and my love for the fiery Vishneva? And how could I so turned off by Yu-Na Kim’s diva-ish performances but awed by Vishneva’s ability to own the stage? How could I make sense of these seemingly contradictory preferences?
Sunday, April 4, 2010
World Championships 2010—So like 2008, and so unlike (2)
Going into the free program, I didn’t know what to expect. Would Yu-Na be able to pull herself together? If so, how would the judges score her? What about Mirai Nagasu? It’s clear the judges favor her; if she skates clean, would she win? And what about Mao herself—would she be able to pull off that perfect program she’d been aiming for?
I could have woken up early to watch the competition live, but since I was somewhat dreading the results, I decided to watch the free program a few hours after it was broadcast.
As with the short program, the Universal Sports broadcast started with the second-to-last group. Miki Ando went out and skated a clean program. She may have lacked some confidence and emotion in the beginning, but by the end, Miki really got into the music. Her coach, Nikolai Morozov, looked very pleased. But I agreed with what Tara Lipinski said—Miki has the potential to be on the podium at every competition, but she just looks a little scared. I wonder why?
Right after Miki, Yu-Na Kim took the ice. Since the beginning of the season, I had thought her long program was rather boring; I much preferred her 2008-09 “Scheherazade” program. But I freely admit that she skated it perfectly at the Olympics, out-of-place Bond girl poses and all. Here at Worlds, however, when Yu-Na was struggling, the program was simply a snooze for me. Yu-Na looked shaken up when she fell on her triple salchow (a problematic jump for her), she popped the final double axel, and she generally seemed flat throughout her program.
But of course, with Yu-Na being the Olympic champion and undeniable judges’ favorite, she received a whopping 130.49 for her mess of a program. It was a ridiculous score, but it did leave the door open for Mao and Mirai. Given their leads after the short program, they only had to score about 122 or 120 to beat her, and those scores were definitely within their capabilities.
***
In the final group, home favorite Carolina Kostner skated first. In the long program at the 2009 World Championships, I was there in the Staples Center when she had a meltdown on the ice, turning almost all her jumps into singles. This year, however, she put out a generally clean performance, and the crowd rewarded her with a huge applause. When her score of 115.11 came out, however, they booed.
As Mao took the ice, I worried, thinking, “I hope the unruly crowd doesn’t ruin Mao’s focus!”
2010 World Championships FS (British EuroSport commentary)
“Prelude in C sharp minor, Op. 3, No. 2” by Sergei Rachmaninoff
When the ominous opening phrase of “Bells” played, I felt my throat constrict. Unlike the day before, I had no idea what would happen. Visions of Mao’s terrifying slip before her opening triple axel in her 2008 long program flashed before my eyes. Here it comes! And landed!! Not as huge as at the Olympics, and with a slight off-balance moment on the landing, but otherwise clean.
Now it was time for the triple axel/double toe loop combo—beautiful! Clean so far! I started to relax as Mao nailed the triple flip/double loop combo and then the triple loop.
But then it was time for the jumps that Mao missed at the Olympics. I tensed up as she launched the triple flip/double loop/double loop combo—but it was perfect. And then the triple toe loop (gulp!)—landed with determination. Finally, the double axel from the outside spread eagle. She did it!! Perfectly clean!!!
Now she could go out and KILL the step sequence!! I got a little worried when I saw some debris on the ice, but Mao easily avoided it, and at the very end, when she thrust her hands into the air, she could not hold back a smile. Yes! I did it, she thought, swinging her arms in front of her.
THAT was the program I wanted to see. And THAT was the joy and relief I had wanted to see on Mao’s face.
But then it was time for the scores. Mao looked so nervous—later she even said she was afraid to look at the scores.
The judges HAVE to give her a better score than Yu-Na Kim, I thought. That was perfect! It would be a travesty to score that below Kim, I thought!
Mao’s score—129.50. I couldn’t believe it. Or rather, I could believe it; I mean, I had known all along that the scoring would be hugely biased toward Yu-Na. But I didn’t think that the judging would be so egregiously unfair.
What kind of system is this, that the girl who falls on a jump, pops another one, and is generally lackluster, outscores the girl who went clean (to the naked eye), did TWO triple axels, and got the whole crowd on its feet?
What kind of system is this, that Mao can look so satisfied after she finished skating, knowing in her heart that she had done everything perfectly—but still have to sit in the kiss ‘n’ cry and worry about how low the judges will score her?
It was simply disgusting. For me, it no longer mattered if Mao went on to win the competition. The score was a clear slap in the face, in my opinion. And you could see it in Mao’s reaction. There were no tears of joy as there had been at 2008 Worlds. She looked disappointed.
***
Near the end of the competition, I found myself in the distinctly uncomfortable competition of having to root against Mirai Nagasu, whom I do really like. She had a clear shot at the gold, but she made mistakes on both of her triple lutzes and then fell on a double axel.
The gold was officially Mao’s, for the second time. She had become the first Japanese person to ever win two World golds, and she had helped bring Japan its first men’s/ladies’ duo gold. But I still felt hugely dissatisfied.
How could I go on watching skating if the judging is like this?
***
The following day, I started to feel better. Seeing Mao smile always makes me smile.
A gold, is a gold, after all, and I certainly hadn’t been expecting it. And Mao had gotten her wish—to beat Yu-Na Kim properly, one last time.
***
21-year old pianist Nobuyuki Tsujii, who won the prestigious Van Cliburn piano competition in 2009 despite being blind from birth, once said that he admires Mao Asada because “even if her condition is not good in the beginning, she always makes a comeback and wins.”
That is exactly what Mao had done here. She could walk away knowing that she had skated perfectly (to the naked eye); she done everything she could, and she won that gold medal fair and square.
And that is why I will go on watching figure skating. Because deep down inside, I do believe that Mao Asada can win back the judge’s favor, even if Yu-Na Kim were to continue competing.
Because no one else has that ethereal quality and lightness on the ice like Mao Asada. No other skater is so like a ballerina. No one else embodies the music—yes, not expresses but BECOMES the music—like Mao.
If Mao plays to those strengths, or if Mao brought out her sparkling personality in her programs like she does in her exhibition programs, then I believe that the judges and the fans will fall in love with her all over again.
Tracy Wilson, one of Yu-Na’s advisors, was critical of Mao’s programs during the competition, but even she could not help but be completely charmed by Mao’s “Caprice.”
2010 World Championship Exhibition Gala
“Caprice” by Niccolo Paganini
So I believe that if Mao does choose audience-pleasing music and programs, she WILL regain the judge’s favor and get those high scores she deserves.
But even if she doesn’t—even if Mao decides to use difficult music because she likes it, even if she chooses absurdly difficult programs because she wants to challenge herself, and even if the judges continue to bash her—I will forever be a fan.
Because behind that brilliant smile and sweet countenance, I can see the adamantine soul of a TRUE athlete, a TRUE champion—one who aims not to win, but to test the utmost limits of her potential, and that of her sport.
I could have woken up early to watch the competition live, but since I was somewhat dreading the results, I decided to watch the free program a few hours after it was broadcast.
As with the short program, the Universal Sports broadcast started with the second-to-last group. Miki Ando went out and skated a clean program. She may have lacked some confidence and emotion in the beginning, but by the end, Miki really got into the music. Her coach, Nikolai Morozov, looked very pleased. But I agreed with what Tara Lipinski said—Miki has the potential to be on the podium at every competition, but she just looks a little scared. I wonder why?
Right after Miki, Yu-Na Kim took the ice. Since the beginning of the season, I had thought her long program was rather boring; I much preferred her 2008-09 “Scheherazade” program. But I freely admit that she skated it perfectly at the Olympics, out-of-place Bond girl poses and all. Here at Worlds, however, when Yu-Na was struggling, the program was simply a snooze for me. Yu-Na looked shaken up when she fell on her triple salchow (a problematic jump for her), she popped the final double axel, and she generally seemed flat throughout her program.
But of course, with Yu-Na being the Olympic champion and undeniable judges’ favorite, she received a whopping 130.49 for her mess of a program. It was a ridiculous score, but it did leave the door open for Mao and Mirai. Given their leads after the short program, they only had to score about 122 or 120 to beat her, and those scores were definitely within their capabilities.
***
In the final group, home favorite Carolina Kostner skated first. In the long program at the 2009 World Championships, I was there in the Staples Center when she had a meltdown on the ice, turning almost all her jumps into singles. This year, however, she put out a generally clean performance, and the crowd rewarded her with a huge applause. When her score of 115.11 came out, however, they booed.
As Mao took the ice, I worried, thinking, “I hope the unruly crowd doesn’t ruin Mao’s focus!”
2010 World Championships FS (British EuroSport commentary)
“Prelude in C sharp minor, Op. 3, No. 2” by Sergei Rachmaninoff
When the ominous opening phrase of “Bells” played, I felt my throat constrict. Unlike the day before, I had no idea what would happen. Visions of Mao’s terrifying slip before her opening triple axel in her 2008 long program flashed before my eyes. Here it comes! And landed!! Not as huge as at the Olympics, and with a slight off-balance moment on the landing, but otherwise clean.
Now it was time for the triple axel/double toe loop combo—beautiful! Clean so far! I started to relax as Mao nailed the triple flip/double loop combo and then the triple loop.
But then it was time for the jumps that Mao missed at the Olympics. I tensed up as she launched the triple flip/double loop/double loop combo—but it was perfect. And then the triple toe loop (gulp!)—landed with determination. Finally, the double axel from the outside spread eagle. She did it!! Perfectly clean!!!
Now she could go out and KILL the step sequence!! I got a little worried when I saw some debris on the ice, but Mao easily avoided it, and at the very end, when she thrust her hands into the air, she could not hold back a smile. Yes! I did it, she thought, swinging her arms in front of her.
THAT was the program I wanted to see. And THAT was the joy and relief I had wanted to see on Mao’s face.
But then it was time for the scores. Mao looked so nervous—later she even said she was afraid to look at the scores.
The judges HAVE to give her a better score than Yu-Na Kim, I thought. That was perfect! It would be a travesty to score that below Kim, I thought!
Mao’s score—129.50. I couldn’t believe it. Or rather, I could believe it; I mean, I had known all along that the scoring would be hugely biased toward Yu-Na. But I didn’t think that the judging would be so egregiously unfair.
What kind of system is this, that the girl who falls on a jump, pops another one, and is generally lackluster, outscores the girl who went clean (to the naked eye), did TWO triple axels, and got the whole crowd on its feet?
What kind of system is this, that Mao can look so satisfied after she finished skating, knowing in her heart that she had done everything perfectly—but still have to sit in the kiss ‘n’ cry and worry about how low the judges will score her?
It was simply disgusting. For me, it no longer mattered if Mao went on to win the competition. The score was a clear slap in the face, in my opinion. And you could see it in Mao’s reaction. There were no tears of joy as there had been at 2008 Worlds. She looked disappointed.
***
Near the end of the competition, I found myself in the distinctly uncomfortable competition of having to root against Mirai Nagasu, whom I do really like. She had a clear shot at the gold, but she made mistakes on both of her triple lutzes and then fell on a double axel.
The gold was officially Mao’s, for the second time. She had become the first Japanese person to ever win two World golds, and she had helped bring Japan its first men’s/ladies’ duo gold. But I still felt hugely dissatisfied.
How could I go on watching skating if the judging is like this?
***
The following day, I started to feel better. Seeing Mao smile always makes me smile.
(That’s Daisuke’s signature!)
A gold, is a gold, after all, and I certainly hadn’t been expecting it. And Mao had gotten her wish—to beat Yu-Na Kim properly, one last time.
2010 World Championships podium: Yu-Na Kim (Silver), Mao Asada (Gold), Laura Lepisto (Bronze)
***
21-year old pianist Nobuyuki Tsujii, who won the prestigious Van Cliburn piano competition in 2009 despite being blind from birth, once said that he admires Mao Asada because “even if her condition is not good in the beginning, she always makes a comeback and wins.”
That is exactly what Mao had done here. She could walk away knowing that she had skated perfectly (to the naked eye); she done everything she could, and she won that gold medal fair and square.
And that is why I will go on watching figure skating. Because deep down inside, I do believe that Mao Asada can win back the judge’s favor, even if Yu-Na Kim were to continue competing.
Because no one else has that ethereal quality and lightness on the ice like Mao Asada. No other skater is so like a ballerina. No one else embodies the music—yes, not expresses but BECOMES the music—like Mao.
If Mao plays to those strengths, or if Mao brought out her sparkling personality in her programs like she does in her exhibition programs, then I believe that the judges and the fans will fall in love with her all over again.
Tracy Wilson, one of Yu-Na’s advisors, was critical of Mao’s programs during the competition, but even she could not help but be completely charmed by Mao’s “Caprice.”
2010 World Championship Exhibition Gala
“Caprice” by Niccolo Paganini
So I believe that if Mao does choose audience-pleasing music and programs, she WILL regain the judge’s favor and get those high scores she deserves.
But even if she doesn’t—even if Mao decides to use difficult music because she likes it, even if she chooses absurdly difficult programs because she wants to challenge herself, and even if the judges continue to bash her—I will forever be a fan.
Because behind that brilliant smile and sweet countenance, I can see the adamantine soul of a TRUE athlete, a TRUE champion—one who aims not to win, but to test the utmost limits of her potential, and that of her sport.
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