Wednesday, May 1, 2013

"[…] he danced his own disintegration"

"Vaslav Nijinsky was almost immobile at the last moment of his real life. Only his expressive hands moved, turning magazine pages as he waited outside the office of a pioneer psychiatrist at a Zurich asylum. After a consultation the doctor privately announced to Nijinsky's wife, the incorrigible Romola de Pulszky, that her husband was incurably mad.[…]
     Fini. Just like that. Page 213, within days of Nijinsky's 30th birthday in 1919, and the biography is almost all over but for a coda on a fading legend. Half his short life had been in training, first as the infant-phenomenon son of dancers scrabbling around the Russian provincial entertainment circuit – here the boy begged a tap lesson from a black American duo, there he fell into a circus animal act, or taught himself piano. [...]"
— Veronica Horwell, The Guardian
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