For a decade at Ballet Adora, certain roles transcend mere performance; they become transformative experiences. Among these, portraying Peter Pevensie from C.S. Lewis’s timeless classic, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, stands out as a pivotal chapter in my personal and artistic development. This wasn’t just about ballet; it was about embodying leadership, courage, and the journey of becoming.
The path to bringing Narnia to life on stage was filled with both anticipation and challenges, beginning with the daunting audition process. Unlike our previous productions where roles were assigned, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe demanded we audition for our desired characters. The air crackled with nervous energy; everyone yearned to become a Pevensie sibling. For me, it was Peter. The eldest, the responsible one, the High King – the role resonated deeply even before the official announcement. Years of whispered predictions among classmates about who would embody each Narnian character added to the tension, yet reality proved our forecasts surprisingly inaccurate.
Audition day arrived, amplifying the pressure with the presence of a guest teacher, a fresh perspective to assess our abilities. The studio atmosphere was thick with anxiety, so palpable you could hear a pin drop. Our instructors, sensing our tension, skillfully lightened the mood, helping us regain composure and dance with more freedom. In the aftermath, a sense of calm settled over me. Regardless of my perceived performance, I realized the role I was meant to play would find me, even if it wasn’t Peter. The agonizing wait for the cast list ended with elation: I was Peter Pevensie.
The spring of 2020 was slated for our Narnia debut, but fate, in the form of the Covid-19 pandemic, intervened. Progress ground to a halt as classes transitioned online. Compounding the disruption, my family faced a temporary relocation to an old farmhouse due to home renovations. The farmhouse, with its uneven, creaky floors, became an unlikely rehearsal space, each plié a negotiation with the aged wood beneath my feet.
As lockdown restrictions eased, in-person classes resumed, necessitating a shift in performance priorities. A full Narnia production within a few months became unrealistic. We pivoted to a summer recital, postponing Narnia to January, reimagining it as a magical Christmas show. This change allowed us more preparation time and positioned the performance perfectly for a festive audience.
My personal timeline, however, presented a bittersweet conflict. Accepted into Ballet Magnificat’s summer dance intensive in Mississippi, I would miss the rescheduled July recital. Returning from the intensive on recital day, I arrived just in time to witness my peers perform the choreography I had been immersed in for months. Observing from the audience provided a transformative perspective. It illuminated the gap between a dancer’s internal experience and the audience’s visual perception, a realization that profoundly shaped my future performances.
Ballet Magnificat exposed me to new dance techniques and performance nuances. Serendipitously, I discovered a roommate who had recently performed The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe with her studio in Georgia. Comparing our studios’ approaches to the same narrative deepened my understanding of the story and its choreographic possibilities.
Returning to Ballet Adora, Narnia rehearsals resumed, fostering deeper connections with my fellow dancers. As one of the elder students, my role as Peter, the protective older brother, blurred into a genuine sense of camaraderie, especially with my “bro” Edmund. This bond, forged through shared artistic endeavor, remains a cherished friendship.
A highlight of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe was Peter’s solo, a piece set after he rescues his sisters from Maugrim. This dance encapsulated Peter’s internal conflict: the weight of safeguarding his siblings and the daunting mantle of High King, demanding leadership in battle. He grapples with the impossible choice of abandoning Narnia or risking his family. Inhabiting this emotional turmoil during the solo, I transcended mere steps; I became Peter. The protective instincts I naturally feel for my own siblings, coupled with a sense of responsibility to those around me, fueled a profound emotional resonance. Wielding the sword in that dance was not just choreography; it was a symbolic act of shielding loved ones from harm, a vow of unwavering resolve.
This solo was particularly meaningful as it emerged from a creative block experienced by Ms. Abigail, our choreographer. Yet, this dance became the most impactful I have ever performed, a testament to the idea that even in moments of creative struggle, art can emerge with profound power.
Now, transitioning from student to teacher at Ballet Adora, I observe a new generation embarking on their own artistic journeys with The Sound of Music. Witnessing these young dancers embrace their talents and glorify God through dance echoes my own transformative experience as Peter Pevensie. The lessons learned embodying the High King – courage, responsibility, and the power of stepping into a role fully – continue to guide me, both on and off the stage.
