When air raid alarms bring the National Ballet of Ukraine to a halt in Kyiv – sending performers backstage and audience members underground – the dancers must worry about staying safe, but also about being ready to go back on stage.
The body cools down quickly, prima ballerina Natalia Matsak explains, and it needs to be warm to dance. So despite threats of incoming rockets or drones, dancers must keep their temperatures up, otherwise they won’t be able to pirouette at a moment’s notice. Such breaks can last up to 45 minutes, before a show is cancelled.
Since Russia’s full-scale invasion in 2022, warning sirens and attacks have routinely interrupted the ballet’s performances and rehearsals. It is tough emotionally, the 41-year-old Matsak says, preparing to perform, only to be stopped suddenly. Still, the shows go on – although rather than the 16 presentations a month that used to take place at the Taras Shevchenko National Opera House before the war, the number depends on the omnipresent conflict.
The company also continues to perform all over the world, and is in the midst of a 10-city Canadian tour. Nadiya Ukraine – “nadiya” means “hope” – features excerpts of celebrated ballets, including Le Corsaire and Don Quixote, along with traditional Ukrainian dances.
For the 23 performers in Canada, the shows are a way to share their culture, which is also under Russian attack, and support the war effort.
Dancing to these beautiful pieces is an emotional experience, Matsak told The Globe from Ottawa, where she was performing with her husband, principal dancer Sergii Kryvokon, 34. “It’s a juxtaposition of art and reality, evoking a mix of sorrow, resilience and a profound connection to the surrounding circumstances.”
Ihor Michalchyshyn, chief executive officer and executive director of the Canadian Ukrainian Congress, attended one of the ballet’s performances at the National Arts Centre in Ottawa. The part that was especially emotional, he said, featured destroyed buildings displayed on a screen, a bleak backdrop to the dancers’ beautiful movements.
“It’s clearly very powerful and to the point about the suffering of the Ukrainian people,” he said. “People were weeping. The whole show is very powerfully presented, very artistic, very high level. But that piece particularly was very moving.”
The National Ballet of Ukraine is considered one of the world’s top ballet companies – and its dancers strive to maintain that high standard despite their difficult circumstances and reduced numbers. (Before the war, it had 150 dancers; now there are around 100.)
Training back home can be challenging and exhausting, the pair of dancers said. One time they were rehearsing so intensely, Kryvokon recalled, that the dancers didn’t even hear an explosion. They looked out a window and saw people running.
With the onset of the war (and before that, the COVID-19 pandemic) they’ve had to adapt, including learning how to stay in shape at home. “I think the situation has made us stronger than before,” Matsak said. “It’s difficult. Sometimes it’s not possible really, because when you feel tired and you have very big stress, you can’t work normally.”
But, the pair added, they have no choice but to stay focused. In Ukraine, Matsak said, “there’s a responsibility to the audience who continues to attend our performances, as it provides them with a few hours of moral respite, filling them with the strength to live on in these dangerous and challenging conditions.”
Even when a recent barrage of 100 missiles struck Ukraine – with many landing in the capital – the dancers went to work the next day. “In our ballet chat, our director said, ‘Morning.’ … Not ‘Good morning,’ ” Matsak said, adding that the director asked: “Are you ready to work?”
The reality of just how tired they are often sinks in when they’re abroad and can finally sleep, she said. Still, that rest is often disrupted when their phones light up with air raid alarms warning of potential incoming attacks in Ukraine.
The international performances assist those back home, with donations and sponsors’ contributions going to two humanitarian organizations: the Olena Zelenska Foundation (named after its creator, the country’s First Lady) and HUMANITE.
They also contribute to the cause in a more indirect, but still critical way, Michalchyshyn said. “You have to remember the core reason Putin is doing this war is to destroy Ukraine and its people and its culture. … It’s really cultural diplomacy at a high level to show both resiliency, as they continue to perform and tour the world, but they’re also now on this mission of showing people that Ukraine is alive and needs help.”
The arts community has not been spared from the war’s brutalities.
Russian missiles have crashed into theatres and cultural houses across the country. Since Jan. 10, UNESCO has verified damage to 337 cultural sites, including buildings of historical or artistic interest, museums, monuments, religious sites and libraries.
Ukraine is also losing its artists. PEN Ukraine, a cultural and human rights non-governmental organization, estimates 95 have been killed as of December, 2023. Among them is Oleksandr Shapoval, one of the ballet company’s former principal dancers, who was hit by Russian mortar shelling on the front line in September, 2022.
Matsak considers sharing Ukrainian culture with the world her responsibility as an artist. “Because today our job and our culture, it’s like our front. And we have the opportunity to speak with audiences in another country and then they can understand the real situation in Ukraine.”
She is hopeful that Canadian audiences enjoy the show, and is grateful for the support. “We want to live normal, like people in Canada and in other countries, because we have a very beautiful country and we don’t want to leave. We want to live there,” she said.
“With peace,” Kryvokon added.
Sign up for The Globe’s arts and lifestyle newsletters for more news, columns and advice in your inbox.