Nadya Timofeyeva, the artistic director of the Jerusalem Ballet School and the Jerusalem Ballet Company (though, honestly, these formal titles do little justice to the essence of this remarkable person), once again shared her fascinating insights.

Photo by Masha Duhovny
A bit more from her official bio: Nadya Timofeyeva graduated from the Bolshoi Ballet Academy in Moscow, danced with the Kremlin Ballet, and in 2004, together with her mother—the legendary ballerina Nina Timofeeva—founded the Jerusalem Ballet Company and Ballet School. Today, the school bears Nina Timofeeva’s name, honoring her legacy while evolving into a contemporary format.
This format has recently embraced Martin Schoenberg, a grandnephew of the composer, who has taken on a pivotal role in the school. Born in South Africa, Schoenberg graduated from the Princess Grace Academy in Monaco, danced with the Royal Ballet of Flanders and Zurich Ballet, and later founded the South African Ballet Theatre in Johannesburg. He delighted audiences there until his repatriation to Israel in 2022. When asked about his preferred dance styles, he quips, "There are only two: good and bad."
L.G.: Nadya, last time we spoke, you mentioned that every ballet company has its unique look. What if someone wants to join the Jerusalem Ballet?
N.T.: For now, I prefer dancers of medium height—men, of course, a bit taller, as it’s easier for them to support their partners. But if an exceptional dancer of average height comes along, I certainly won’t turn them away. Much depends on coordination because our company isn’t purely classical; it’s neoclassical, which demands specific coordination. I expect solid pointe technique, but also the ability to glide across the floor and move fluidly.
There’s a term, "movering"—a dancer who moves brilliantly and has adaptable coordination. To achieve this, you also need to study modern dance. Classical-only training often leaves dancers stiff, lacking fluidity. Thankfully, those purely classical dancers are rare today because everyone understands: one day you’re dancing Swan Lake, and the next, Forsythe, Kylián, or Nacho Duato.
Dancers are becoming more versatile, even incorporating breakdance, tap, or hip-hop into ballet. That’s why my dancers need open minds and advanced coordination.
Photo by Leonid Khromchenko
L.G.: How long do students typically train with you?
N.T.: Until they’re 18. Many then join the Jerusalem Ballet as trainees. Do you remember what Agrippina Vaganova said? When you start your career in a theater, you’re not yet a full-fledged ballerina—you need two more years of classes to refine your skills. Back then, there were special advanced classes for graduates who had begun their careers.
My mother used to say that you remain a "child" on stage until your last performance. By the way, there’s a film about her, A Little More About Ballet, where she talks a lot about discipline, teaching, and more.
L.G.: I believe everyone, whether familiar with ballet or not, should watch it. It’s a deeply atmospheric, wise, and moving film that leaves a lasting impression—just like your performances. But we’ll discuss your productions another time. For now, let’s return to the school.
N.T.: Back to the school—our home. For students and trainees, Martin Schoenberg teaches floor work and Pilates, a specialized gymnastics routine for dancers, starting at 7 a.m. Then come classes, rehearsals, and so on. Trainees are here from 7 a.m. until 7 or 8 p.m.
Senior students and trainees participate in a special Dancer Training program led by Orian Yohanan, focusing on improvisation and developing individuality in contemporary dance. We also have a program for dancers 18+, designed for graduates of other schools who want to refine their craft, inspired by Vaganova’s advanced classes.

Photo by Leonid Khromchenko
L.G.: Orian Yohanan is truly remarkable. Her hands in Houdini, where she portrays Harry’s mother, are unforgettable. She reminds me of a young Plisetskaya. By the way, you have several performances of Houdini in February, so readers can see for themselves. Meanwhile, here’s an odd question: how does a dancer’s body differ from an ordinary one?
N.T.: In proprioception *. A dancer has a heightened sense of their body. They’re intimately familiar with it and control it differently. The brain-to-muscle connection is unique; what a dancer can feel, the average person cannot. Every art or sport develops its own proprioception, but ballet is an exceptionally intricate system.
It teaches the body a specific mechanics and the absolute value of the body as a material. The body is a delicate yet powerful instrument. You must respect it—push it, but also allow it rest and care for it wisely. Recklessness leads to injuries.
A dancer’s body is their tool, but it’s also their burden. They can’t afford risky sports like skiing or skating.
L.G.: Tennis is off-limits too, I suppose?
N.D.: Tennis disrupts the balance of the body; one side develops more than the other. You’re no longer symmetrical. For instance, if you’re right-handed, your right side becomes more developed. And the dancer’s body is both a physical and aesthetic asset. The smarter the dancer, the more refined and intelligently trained their body, the greater its value. We talk about how a dancer conveys extraordinary emotion on stage, but that doesn’t come from talent alone—it’s rooted in an insane sensitivity to one’s body, down to the millimeter. It’s as if you start thinking with your body; it becomes intelligent. Yet, each body is different. The system assumes people are symmetrical and healthy, but nowadays, that’s rare. Most children come to me with scoliosis, kyphosis, severe spinal curvature. Hip misalignment is common, and bodies are asymmetrical. Fortunately, ballet aligns the body like a physiotherapist—if practiced correctly. And once the body becomes “smart,” you can use this fine-tuned instrument to convey inspiration, emotion, and so forth.
Emotion doesn’t originate in the brain; it starts lower. I believe feelings and movement come from the lower abdomen—a primal sensation that radiates outward. The higher the dancer’s skill, the more interesting their movement potential.

Photo by Leonid Khromchenko
L.G.: Sounds like Eastern practices, like wushu, where the abdomen is the body’s center and energy core—it guides the body and carries the head.
N.D.: Exactly. Balance, for example, is sensed from below. You’re constantly working against gravity—especially when landing from a jump. When you take off, it’s 50 kilograms; when you land, it’s 500! The lightness we see in professional landings comes from a masterful control of the body and defying gravity.
And standing on one leg, balancing on a tiny point—you have to train the dancer so thoroughly that the body thinks for them. All concentration goes into feeling balance and the vibrations traveling upward. Balance isn’t static; it’s a vibration. Since we’re breathing, the positioning of the body and lungs is always shifting. The tip of the foot senses these vibrations. The finer the dancer’s proprioception, the better they can sense their body’s breathing. It may appear as if they’re completely still, but the body is constantly adjusting.
L.G.: And the naked eye can’t catch that?
N.D.: Almost never—people don’t know where to look. In the Bolshoi Theater during my mother’s time, there was a specific audience who didn’t just come for the performance—they came to watch specific dancers. It was a generation of balletomanes who understood the craft and could appreciate the ballerina’s skill. If she wavered but didn’t fall and managed to recover, they noticed.
Interestingly, unemotional dancers—yes, they exist—find it much easier to master turns because emotions destabilize them. But an emotional dancer is far more valued; they project a powerful energy to the audience, affecting them with their emotional field. However, it’s much harder for them to handle the technical side. I teach children this balance, too. I’ve had highly emotional students who lost parents and couldn’t even stand upright, but I managed to guide them to age 18. Others are so closed off it’s impossible to ignite them—teaching them even to smile takes immense energy. Some are terrified of the stage; others live for it.

L.G.: Can you help overcome stage fright?
N.D.: Absolutely, the earlier you introduce a child to the stage, the easier it is. But again, it’s individual. For example, my daughter quit ballet despite having talent because she’s so emotional that she’d have breakdowns before performances. I explain how to manage this, what stress-reduction techniques to use. Everything matters: your thoughts, your breathing, how you act the day before and on performance day. These skills are invaluable for life, not just the stage.
L.G.: Is it the same with competitions?
N.D.: Preparing for a competition takes months, yet on stage, you have just 50 seconds, sometimes a minute and twenty. In that time, you must condense and showcase all your knowledge, feelings, and skills. It’s like the Olympics—your entire future can hinge on a few moments.
L.G.: Luck certainly plays a role here.
N.D.: Absolutely. In our profession, chance can determine so much. Stepping in for a sick ballerina, for instance, can change your destiny. You always have to be ready to replace anyone and know every part. That makes you invaluable.
L.G.: Speaking of gravity, Doris Humphrey’s theory of releasing the body’s weight as a foundational movement principle comes to mind—how weight interacts with gravity, and rhythm is regulated by breath. Doris, as we know, studied her moving body in the mirror, exploring the dynamics of fall and recovery. And I recall you once mentioning visual training for students…

N.D.: Everything reaches the brain through the eyes. I beg parents to watch beautiful ballet productions from Covent Garden or the Grand Opéra with their kids at least once a week, even in fragments. Watch different variations performed by the best ballerinas and explain the differences. By age seven, because my mother took me to the theater from infancy, I already knew the entire ballet repertoire and could distinguish Maya Plisetskaya from Ekaterina Maximova.
That’s training the eye. Then, you look at yourself in the mirror with a mental template of how it should look and realize how far you are from ideal. Girls come to my masterclasses from other schools, where they train far fewer hours, and it’s often a shock. My students train six days a week, five hours a day; these girls trained twice a week for an hour and a half. Ballet requires six days a week because muscles need that frequency.
L.G.: Is rest possible, though?
N.D.: I give young children a month or a month and a half off. The older they get, the shorter the break. When I was a student, we had one-and-a-half-month breaks until the senior years—it allowed the body to recover, which is essential. From a young age, children need to learn discipline to avoid stress later.
L.G.: Does ballet improve mood?
N.D.: Yes, especially when everything clicks.
* Proprioception (from Latin proprius – “one’s own” and receptor – “receiver”), also known as kinesthesia, refers to the sense of the relative position and movement of one’s body parts in space.
All the photos provided by Nadya Timofeyeva and Jerusalem Ballet |