One of the Mariinsky Ballets First Soloists who often performs principal roles, Evgeny Konavalov is now an audience favorite. Vaganova Today discussed his career path and philosophy with him. The original Russian version of this interview can be found here.
You were born in Potsdam, Germany – do you have German roots?
No, my relatives are not German. We lived in Samara, my mom and dad went to work as a nurse in a maternity hospital in Germany, and I was born there. Some videos were left where I was already walking there with my dad holding my hand. We were there for about a year. Then she sent me to my grandmother in Samara and continued working in Germany. I lived with my grandmother for a year, then my mom came back and we stayed in Samara.
My parents were not from the ballet world. I don’t know what my dad did, he left us early. And mom worked in medicine all the time. I was an active child, and my mom decided to bring me up in the arts. She sent me first to gymnastics, then they said I should go to ballet because I was “capable”. So I went to the theatre in Samara, studied and performed there.
My grandmother supported me in this endeavor and for some reason thought she would watch me on TV (smiles). You know, there are singers and dancers, she constantly showed me what was being done on TV. She understood that ballet was unusual and beautiful.
At first I attended a regular academic school and travelled to the theatre downtown. They had music education, music history, and choreography-classical, and later on there was a history class. I spent 4 years there (from 9 to 13 years old), then Valentina Nikolayevna Ponamarenko, the director of our school, sent me to the Vaganova Academy. She said, “You need to move on and develop further,” to take a risk, so to speak. At first they scared me and even brought tears to my eyes, that it would be scary and very hard here in St. Petersburg, because I would be alone in the dormitories. They scared me so much that I didn’t want to go anywhere! Here I was, a boy with his mom and grandmother all the time, and now I’d have to leave them at age 13 to live alone. But then I got used to it.
They immediately took me into the 3rd grade (out of 7). Ludmila Ivanovna Komolova was my first teacher. There were 7 boys in our class in addition to me. They always say: “They demand a lot from those who are able”, and I didn’t believe it at first, at that age it was such a difficult period, I wanted freedom. But really, you were expected to do a lot. I felt alone, then independence appeared. We were all bad boys then, we’ve all been there. There’s no one around: no parents, no one to give you a smack to set you straight. I was not the most well-mannered boy, but I tried.
Did you miss your mom?
Very much, I constantly went home for autumn and spring holidays, even knowing it would only be 3 – 4 days, but I went because I missed my mother and my favorite cat ‘Mishka’. It was always nice to go see my grandmother too, in my childhood I spent most of my time at her place. Mom always worked. So I’d tram to my grandmother’s house with pleasure, because I knew my younger cousin was there, we’d always play football or hide-and-seek in the courtyard. I had a nice childhood.
After your first year in the Academy, who taught you?
My first year in the Academy was my only year with Ludmila Ivanova, then we studied under Almazbek Shamyraliev for two years, and then we had Gennady Naumovich Seliutsky for the final years (“courses”). He managed to be everywhere at once, in the theatre and at the Academy teaching us.
Seliutsky is famous in the world of Russian ballet as the best male teacher in Petersburg, he’s a legend who trained and cultivated stars like Farukh Ruzimatov and Leonid Sarafanov. What was he like for you?
First, he was an authority for me, a Man with a capital “M”. Under his tutelage, I had to pull myself together, turn on my brain, and grow up. I was afraid he’d leave us. It was very concerning. He was impressive in that he could come up with anything, pick movements that could really work for you. He was a man of improvisation. His lessons were strict, he didn’t like to repeat the same thing many times, he got tired of it. It’s hard for any teacher when he tries to get through to you and has to say the same thing for the tenth time and you make the same mistakes.
He was always in different moods, on some days he could come alive with ideas. He needed to work something out, and he would start making us take turns teaching a lesson. I understood that he took this idea from his teacher, the famous Feya Balabina. We took turns giving each combination. Then he could give exercises, then ‘let’s go for a run’, then ‘guys, let’s sit down and talk’. He was soulful. But at some point he began to arrive to class tired, it was hard for him and we would tense up, the atmosphere would change, strictness would appear, and we thought if something went wrong, he’d get up and leave. Of course, that didn’t happen. There were times when he couldn’t come because of his work at the theatre, but he would warn us that he’d be late or that he wouldn’t be there, and we’d warm up on our own. But that was rare.
I am so grateful to him for accepting me into the theatre, because I was injured. I had reached the time of our graduation performance, but I didn’t pass my classical ballet exam because I tore my meniscus due to stupidity and fatigue and walked around with a cast for a month. Then I recovered. I didn’t have time to get in shape for the exam. I had to focus on the graduation performance. Ernest Latypov (Editor’s note: now a ballet soloist at the Mikhailovsky Theatre) and I danced “Le Corsaire” with our classmate. Then they observed us here in the theatre, I didn’t audition anywhere else, I hoped I would be accepted here. I was already so used to this theatre that I had no idea where else to go. Of course, I wanted to dance at the Grand Opera in Paris or in Covent Garden, I dreamt of being invited there in the future. But these are long-term dreams. I still hope maybe I will get there someday.
At the Mariinsky they accepted me straight into the main corps de ballet, I even worked in operas at first, at that time (Editor’s note: before the opening of the second stage in 2013) everyone who joined the company always had to stand and dance in operas during their first year. That’s why “Aida”, “Ruslan and Lyudmila” and “Prince Igor” are in my repertoire, I participated in them just as I did in the entire ballet repertoire.
Danila Korsuntsev is a pupil of Gennady Naumovich Seliutsky, your teacher. How does he help you?
For him, the main thing is the role and to understand who I’m playing and not just perform movements for the sake of movement, but for the sake of meaning. He makes sure my technique is clean, though not without difficulty. The main thing is to keep the audience interested. He’s tired of plotless ballets with just movement. “You’re not in gymnastics!” he’ll say. Gennady Naumovich probably wanted that from Danila, and now Danila wants that from me.
You have a huge range of roles in your repertoire. Do you believe in emploi?
I love any role. It’s always interesting to try something new. Nowadays everyone is given the opportunity to develop not only in “Swan Lake” and “Giselle”. I’m always in favor of trying something new, and in principle we have no problems with that as there are so many ballets in our repertoire here.
Do you prefer romantic roles?
Uliana Lopatkina once told me that I have a romantic way of moving. Sometimes you want to have fun, you want something comic. For example, I would love to dance “Vestris”. When Andrian Gurievich was not yet Artistic Director of the Mariinsky Ballet (Editor’s note – he took up his post in July 2024), and he was still working for the Jakobson Ballet Theatre, I asked him if it was possible. He said of course you can dance this with us, but there was a complication with the rights, and the timing didn’t work out.
Is there another role you’d like?
Ferkhad in “The Legend of Love” will always be the first on my list. That music and choreography!
What’s the hardest part of your job?
Fear of overworking and over-rehearsing. I have a limit when I feel I’ve had enough. I can get so saturated with rehearsals that I lose the desire to rehearse further. I know that every new role has to be rehearsed to the tips of your fingers, it always takes a lot of time, and it’s always difficult because there are a lot of nuances and requirements: new choreography, plasticity, and your body is used to one thing and you have to switch to another. For example, I prepared “La Bayadere” in four days. Before that, of course, I rehearsed with Danila [Korsuntsev], and we agreed that I would show this part to Yuri Fateev (Editor’s note – former Acting Director of the Mariinsky Ballet Company until July 2024). Then there was a trip, and I had no hopes for this part. Then one day it appeared. Many people thought I would refuse, because it’s only four days, well five if you count a weekend. But no, I’m going to take it, take a chance and go. My Nikiya for this debut was Renata Shakirova, and Gamzatti was Elena Evseeva.
“La Sylphide” (the role of James) I prepared in 10 days, and it was stressful. I also prepared some other parts in 5 days. So life sometimes pushes you to take risks. I like it better when you’re pressed for time than when you’re stretched out for a month and don’t know what to do.
Danila once told me that I’m person ruled by my moods. I can’t produce a stable result for ballet every day, I need a sudden change of scenery.
The most enjoyable part of your job?
When the performance is over (laughs).
You’re not the first person to say that! Why is that? Because your nerves are fried?
Yes, you realise you’ve given everything – a part of your soul, energy, strength, emotions, and you feel devastated. Not that the performance is over, but that it’s gone. Then a kind of emptiness appears. A feeling that you were a character that you showed to the audience. And then you turned into an ordinary person who went home. And that’s it. Emotionally it’s difficult because a lot of energy goes into it.
Your wife also dances in the main company. Is it good when spouses work together?
I don’t see anything wrong with it. My grandmother used to say, “Marry a ballerina.” She thought that this way we could help each other in our profession. It’s one thing to work in the same building, but if you dance with her, that’s another matter. And when you’re next to her and she’s present in the masses, you feel it. In general, support from everyone on stage is a big part of our work, and when you feel support from others on stage, it helps.
To what extent are physical characteristics responsible for the success of a ballet dancer?
Even if a dancer has beautiful legs, there are always some nuances. These beautiful legs have to be developed later on. It’s very difficult to go on stage relying only on your God-given physical traits. You have to take into account some weaknesses. And appearance always has an impact.
Do you work out at the gym?
No, but during Covid, when we were all separated, I did a lot of running and exercised at home. It’s hard to get out of shape. You always want to be toned.
Do you follow a diet?
Thanks to my wife and mother-in-law, I learnt to eat right. Nothing salty or fried. Now I try to keep my weight and shape. But I’m the kind of person who can weigh myself 4 or 5 times a day: “How much have I eaten? Ok, we don’t go beyond the limits!”
How do you spend your free time, if you have any?
It rarely happens, but if I do, a change of place helps me a lot both spiritually and physically. I try to go out of town all the time, to breathe fresh air and look at the scenery. And then back to work again.
Do you have any superstitions?
I don’t take photos before a performance. People usually ask for a photo afterwards, and I never do it before. I don’t know where it came from, probably from school. And I don’t care about everything else. If a black cat walks by, it’s no big deal, I’m cool with it.
Is there competition between soloists?
Yes, that component is present. One person has danced, and the next day another person dances the same role but tries to do it in his own way, more interesting, with the audience, using what he is good at.
Advice for young people?
You have to believe in yourself. Don’t be shy or despair if something doesn’t work out. You have to persevere to reach your goal. If you want to dance, you have to prove it, not to someone else, but to yourself that you really can.
Do you believe in fate? Destiny?
I’m not sure about that.
Dreams of the future?
I haven’t looked that far ahead, I guess I haven’t come to the realisation yet that I need to do something else. For now I am dancing, and I like it. I keep saying to myself, “Thank God that I am dancing and that there is such an opportunity”, and I need to hold onto it with my hands and feet as long as it is possible. Because our world is cruel in ballet, there’s always someone who would love to stand in my place and hold on to this opportunity with all their might. I’m constantly grateful – perhaps it’s fate, if it’s emphasised that way – for my push and my desire to prove that I can dance.
Fate is only a nudge, it’s all up to you. You have to have a huge desire and drive to do it.
Photographs (from top to bottom): Konovalov in “La Sylphide” by Mikhail Vilchuk (2021) © Mariinsky Theatre, in “Bronze Horseman” by Natasha Razina (2022) © Mariinsky Theatre, in “Don Quixote” by Natasha Razina (2024) © Mariinsky Theatre, in “La Spectre de la Rose” by Natasha Razina (2022) © Mariinsky Theatre, in “The Fountain of Bakchisarei” by Natasha Razina (2023) © Mariinsky Theatre, and again in “La Sylphide” by Mikhail Vilchuk (2021) © Mariinsky Theatre.