by Jack Walker An Interview with
by Jack Walker
Farouk Ruzimatov is regarded by many as one of the premier principal dancers in the world today. Since April of 1995, he is also Assistant Artistic Director and in a position to influence the future of the Kirov Company.
He sits just three feet away on a hard, straight chair. His back is stiff like a mirror, and he stares at me. His eyes are dark fire, like black diamonds. He is absolutely motionless while energy storms inside him. It seems he might explode into a flash of lightening.
We are far from the cold St. Petersburg winter, well past the stern and tough security guards, deep in the bowels of the Mariinsky Theatre. Ruzimatov shares this office with his friend and Kirov company manager, Makharbeq Vasiev.
This building is not modern. It reminds me, though it's much older, of one of those big American high schools built in the 1920s -- plain and sturdy, very responsible.
"Mr. Ruzimatov...," I begin. He interrupts and tells me he prefers to be called Farouk. But he is cold, as if he were in a ready-state for attack. From head-to-toe he is dressed in black. He always and only wears black and has for years. His hair is slick, combed straight back, almost plastered on top. But an hour earlier I had gotten a different glimpse of him:
When I first arrived I had interrupted a large meeting inside the office. People had to squish about so that Farouk could squirm past and get out to the hall. He warmly greeted me with a huge smile, and he apologized for making me wait. His hair was loose, and he wore multi-colored rehearsal clothes. "Do you know where the cafe is?" he asked. I shook my head that I didn't. "Follow me," he said, and off he went.
We ran through a doorway, up some stairs, then down a long, long hall that twisted back and forth. We passed ballerinas, singers, and administrators wandering about on their business. Suddenly, as if he had not been moving a step, Farouk was stopped. "Here it is," he said. "I won't be long. I'll send someone up to get you." He grinned and instantaneously he was running through the hall to go back.
Now it's interview time, and Farouk seems cold. I knew that another American had met with him a few days earlier. Politics had been a subject Farouk did not want to discuss, but the American would ask about nothing else. This American became pushy, obnoxious, and a bore.
Now Farouk is wary of me. But when I ask him about ballet, he focuses and loosens up....
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Copyright © 1996 Jack Walker. All rights reserved.
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