From his first steps inside the Vaganova Academy to a brilliant duet with Diana Vishneva, Konstantin Zverev is a rare example of a triumphal – even unexpected – ascent into the challenging but magical world of Russian and world classical ballet. To find out more about his phenomenal path, his views on the profession, and how he skillfully combines his pedagogical vocation with everyday training with the magic of the stage, read below. For the Russian language version of this interview, please click here.
Слышала, что вы из балетной семьи? I heard you come from a ballet family?
My father danced with Leonid Jakobson’s company. Sasha Sergeev was in my class at the Vaganova Academy, his parents also danced with Jakobson. One year later Philipp Styopin came to study, and his parents are also from Jakobson’s troupe. So we as the children of “Jakobson’s group” underwent a lot in those years at the Academy. We were close to one another, although we didn’t know each other at the start.
Did your father ask if you wanted to dance?
There was no desire formed inside me to dance, probably because I didn’t have that sort of childhood that many have where their parents are in the ballet world, and as a child they spend time in the theatre, in the studios and backstage in the wings. I grew up a normal child and understood that my father danced, but unfortunately I didn’t see him on stage, because by the time I was 6 or 7 years old, he retired from the stage.
My father really wanted one of his children to dance and follow in his footsteps. There are three of us. My older brother tried to attend the Academy but they didn’t accept him. Then it was my turn. I was accepted and my younger sister sighed with relief because it was clear what a difficult path it would be. In 1995 I began the preparatory course at the Academy and in 1996 I joined the Academy as a full-time student.
The main part of my studies took place under Yury Ivanovich Umrikhin. But it so turned out that at graduation, I incurred an injury – I tore the muscles in my abdomen and due to that I missed the winter “Nutcrackers” where the graduating class usually performs. At the end of the school year when we graduated, the artistic director Altynai Asylmuratova suggested I stay one more year on an internship. I remains but only for the special classes – classical ballet, character dance, pas de deux, etc. That was an important year because I studied under Boris Yakovlevch Bregvadze and he gave me quite a lot. I ended up in the same class with Philipp Styopin.
What did they give you?
Boris Yakovlevich was a wonderful pedagogue. Everyone that remembers him and who studied under him will say that he was strict. Despite this strictness, I never felt scared near him. Quite the contrary, I always related to him with respect and admiration because I knew what a great master of his profession he was, and what a talented artist.
One day he approached me and said, “You studied with Umrikhin, write me a comparison of the classes of Bregvadze and Umrikhin.” And I immediately understood I was at a dead end. It was a very difficult situation for me because I had a lot of respect for both men and I couldn’t say that one of them was better than the other. I agreed to do it, but for a week I didn’t bring him the essay, hoping that Boris Yakovlevich would forget. However, a few weeks later he asked me, “Well where is it?” And I understood that I’d have to do it. I wrote a comparative analysis of their lessons and highlighted what each of them emphasized.
For eample, Yuri Ivanovich had more technical components and as I now recall he paid a lot of attention to the footwork. Boris Yakovlevich also had strong technical combinations but he tried to get the students to dance so that they were more prepared for theatre work. I wrote my report in this vein, and handed it to Boris Yakovlevich, who was always stingy with praise. But at that time he said a phrase that I still remember, “I thought you were stupider than this,” and for me that was a huge compliment, I was glad, and breathed a sigh of relief.
Maybe that was a seed planted for your future in pedagogy?
In those years I didn’t think about pedagogy at all, but still, something remains from those moments, although I don’t analyze it and don’t suspect it.
Was the atmosphere at the Academy competitive?
I can’t say there was severe competition, or that we set each other up to fail. Of course there was a desire to be and to dance better, but nothing reached a level of negativity.
Did you dream of dancing here at the Mariinsky, or did you want to be in the Jakobson company where your father had danced?
No, I didn’t consider Jakobson. The Mariinsky Theatre at that point was the dream of every student at the Academy. It was the top, the highest level, where everyone wanted to go. Now graduates have a big selection: Mariinsky, Bolshoi, Mikhailovsky. And until recently there were also theatres in Europe and America and so forth. But when I graduated, I don’t remember that anyone was looking anywhere else other than the Mariinsky Theatre. If you were accepted here, that was the best thing that could happen in your life at the start of your career.
When we graduate, we are scheduled to audition in various theatres: the Mariinsky, Mikhailovsky, Eifman Ballet. I was at the audition for Eifman, and they really wanted me to join their troupe, I think they saw some future prospects for me. I was pleased but it wasn’t part of my dream. A few days prior to the audition at the Mariinsky, Boris Bregvadze spoke with me about the Mikhailovsky. He says “Why do you need the Mariinsky. You’ll go there, what are you going to dance? You won’t become a soloist there.” He wanted to help me choose the best path, so that I would not be hurt from not reaching my full potential. He said, “Go to the Mikhailovsky, you’ll be a soloist there, you’ll dance everything.” He related well to me, treated me well. It seems to me that with this in mind he said that “You’ll be a soloist at the Mikhailovsky.” The auditions were scheduled for Eifman first, then the Mikhailovsky and last at the Mariinsky.
But the night before, he called me and suddenly said, “That’s it, don’t go to the Mikhailovsky. You’ll join the Mariinsky.” At the last second! And thank God! He of course was an authority on the matter for me, and I for course listened to his opinion. At as a result I didn’t go to the Mikhailovsky to audition, I went to the Mariinsky. And they accepted me.
What was the atmosphere like for you, that first season in the Mariinsky?
The theatre was completely different. Since then, the company has changed almost 100%. Few dancers remain who were there then, you can count them literally on one hand. And we looked up to them with great respect. I remember how I went into the shared dressing room for the corps de ballet and I was afraid of accidentally taking someone’s place. At despite that all the dancers were friendly to us younger ones. Yes, you needed to be particularly attentive, quickly learn the order of the roles, so that they didn’t stop a rehearsal or repeat something because of you. And if that happened and they had to interrupt the process several times, then you could easily receive a reprimand from the more experienced dancers, and then it became even clearer how important it is to know the order of the steps (choreography) better prior to the rehearsal and to come to the studio prepared. It seems to me the troupe then was very close-knit. We’d gather together while on tour to celebrate someone’s birthday, both the elders and younger dancers together, colleagues who were 15 years older than you. We became closer due to this. Recalling those initial years: there were fewer people and there were no age barriers.
You worked with Igor Yurievich Petrov, he was your pedagogue from the start of your time in the theatre. What did he give you?
There’s a phrase in Russian, it translates roughly to “If we don’t preserve what we have, we cry when we lose it.” [Editor’s note: in English we often say, “Value what you have before it’s too late”]. In this case I can understand how valuable a person he was for the theatre. In particular, I lost a wonderful pedagogue [when he passed away], because we were very close and worked together for many years. All of my main roles I worked on with him. When I became a pedagogue recently and received my teaching workload, I understood that the volume of work that he took on, likely no one today can handle that workload. Maybe someone could do it for a month at that pace, as he did, but he did it for years on end. He had a huge work load: [rehearsing] the corps de ballet, solo parts, he had to rehearse everyone and then in the evening watch the performance. He was in the theatre for entire days on end. I cannot imagine how he endured that workload. And in addition to that, he often gave morning company class. Each morning he’d enter the 
studio with an unbelievably positive energy. How he did it, I just can’t imagine. He’d leave after “Sleeping Beauty” at almost midnight and the next morning energize everyone in class. He had these famous phrases, which we all remember with warmth now, “Good morning dear actors!” or “Have a good working day!” He always spoke so cheerfully, energetically, positively, that everyone woke up immediately. One other very important quality that Igor Petrovich had as a pedagogue was that he didn’t fear taking on any young dancer and preparing them, working with them. For example, maybe a dancer didn’t have strong physical traits, or wasn’t a great actor. He would draw that out of them to the maximum. I remember how there were dancers and you’d think, “He’s probably going to be in the corps de ballet and not more than that.” And after a time, that dancer would go out and dance a solo part and you’d be amazed how the person had grown. That is a great deal of work for a pedagogue. Igor Yurievich could rehearse at any time, late in the evening or on weekends. If you needed to at 10 p.m. and on days off, he had that amazing capability to work. I think the phrase “no one is irreplaceable” does not fit Igor Yurievich Petrov. He was a unique man.
In 2010 Ratmansky set “Anna Karenina” at the Mariinsky, and Diana Vishneva chose you as her partner. How did you approach that psychologically?
When I try to look back in time, and comprehend that period, it’s difficult to unequivocally answer the question of “why me?” Speaking about Diana Vishneva as a ballerina, I hold the deepest admiration for her. Although I’m more often inspired by male dancers, their dancing and the specifics of it, which is logical, their mastery. But Diana is one of a few ballerinas whose talent amazed me. Even standing in the corps de ballet, I wouldn’t’ take my eyes off of her dancing, I was amazed at the perfect technique and highest level of performance. And when our work together began, it was unexpected. I was in Moscow at the time, when I received a message about a rehearsal for “Anna Karenina” with Diana Vishneva and Alexey Ratmansky on the next day. No one explained what role I would dance. I thought probably I would dance some sort of secondary character. I arrived by a night train to Petersburg, went into the rehearsal, and was surprised that only Diana Vishneva and the choreographer were there. Again there were no explains, just “Let’s begin.” We start to rehearse a duet, and that was when I understood, I’m rehearsing Vronsky! A quiet sense of shock began to grow inside me, because there are many other talented, more experienced dancers. Yes, I showed some promise but not as much as it seemed to me to immediately pair up with Diana Vishneva. It was a real challenge. I understood that such an opportunity comes once in a lifetime and even then, not for everyone. Diana had always had her own, proven partners – Vladimir Malakhov, Marcelo Gomez. Of course it was a huge risk, to be paired with me, and I’m sure Diana was uncomfortable because of my inexperience, she had to teach me a lot. It was a unique experience and I’m immensely grateful to her for it.
Were you nervous during the working process?
I didn’t have time to be nervous. The rehearsals come back to mind – three hours in the morning and again in the evening with the same inexorable timing. The schedule was exhausting but I tried to maintain the utmost concentration, giving my best. Apparently that left no room for worrying.
You look as if you stepped off of the pages of a fairytale about a prince – stately, with noble features. Do you feel confined to that emploi? And do you have a preference in terms of roles, do you lean more toward the classics or neoclassical?
Honestly, I wouldn’t want to chain myself to a specific emploi. Due to my appearance and mannerisms, it’s truly easier for me to depict a prince, but I can’t say that it’s interesting, because it’s simple.
It’s interesting for me to dig into complex characters. So when I look at my repertoire, I see a wide range of parts: princes, negative characters, and comic ones. Maybe paradoxically, but I remember my first lessons of acting at the Academy. It was very hard for me, I was very shy. Pulling some sort of acting out of yourself back then was prohibitively difficult. That I really enjoy searching for the colors inside a character, and discovering them more deeply now is surprising, since at one point I couldn’t cross over that threshold and open up.
As for style, neoclassical is closest to me.
Is there a role that you haven’t yet danced but want to?
I have danced almost everything at the Mariinsky that I’ve wanted to. And of the roles I didn’t manage to dance and most likely won’t manage to due to my age, that would be Solor in “La Bayadere”. I’d also like to dance Crassus in Grigorovich’s Spartacus, or his “Ivan the Terrible.”
You became an “Honored Artist of Russia” last year (October 2025). Did that change anything in your work or your life?
During the first week afterwards, all of the theatre employees said, “ooh, Honored Artist!” What changed for me? I understand that now, when the viewer comes to the theatre, opens the program and sees “Honored Artist of Russia”, they expect even more of you. Of course there are audience members who already know me well and love me, and I’m grateful to them. Inside, I have the feeling that I have more responsibility now. I have to pull even more of the maximum out of myself.
For three years now you’ve been both performing and coaching as a pedagogue simultaneously. Is this connected with the loss of Igor Yurievich?
I see a direct link between the events, because he passed away 20 August 2022. We were on vacation and received this horrific news. And when we returned for the new season, Yuri Valerievich Fateev called me in and suggested I take a few dancers and work with them. He asked if I can also rehearse and teach class. I agreed to everything. It was interesting for me to try all of it.
Had you taught class prior to that?
I’d given master classes in various places, but not classes to the company. The basis of my classes are Igor Petrov’s lessons. For me it’s the foundation on which I stand, developing it in some directions. Periodically I give combinations from Igor Yurievich, and I see only plusses in that. Everyone loved his classes. But what I cannot replicate is his energy and atmosphere. That’s unrealistic. I feel that in terms of structuring a lesson, Igor Yurievich gave me a lot.
Do you give class every day?
No, it all depends on how many performances I have, on average 2 or 3 times a week.
That’s a lot.
It is a lot, and I can say that it isn’t easy.
Do you give the class and take it at the same time, doing the exercises yourself?
Yes. I give the combination, talking while I do, giving general notes to everyone. But it turns out that I am doing it, speaking, I lost my breath, and when everyone else is resting, I am giving the next combination. Then I stand up and again give corrections. Of course after these classes I need a short break, I can’t immediately go rehearse, I need at least half an hour to recover. It’s not easy, but I can’t just remain silent during the class, to me that’s just not right.
Is teaching a talent or a skill?
It’s both. But still, there must be an internal requisite, some sort of gift. I’m absolutely convinced that great dancers are not necessarily excellent teachers. And often a dancer may not reach superior heights in ballet, but will be an excellent teacher. And skills are acquired over time. For you [at the start of teaching], everything is new, you don’t know how to work correctly or how to tell a given dancer something because each one is unique. For each dancer the same movement may incur different corrections, taking into account their physiology and so forth. The pedagogue must be a psychologist because they need to understand and find a path to each dancer, and during each rehearsal they will be a completely different person. Today the dancer may be tired, tomorrow something happens in his personal life and he starts working in a different way, and you have to take these things into account and structure the rehearsal so that it’s productive, and so the dancer won’t get injured if their head is not in the right spot. And of course, to motivate, to set the dancers up for the role so that they believe in themselves. I believe this is a very important point in pedagogical work.
What’s the hardest thing to teach to students?
Everything is individual, so it’s hard to say exactly, some have stronger technique, but they need to work on acting skills, others are the opposite. If the dancer can quickly accept and work through corrections on technique, then you can fix them in a short period of time. Working on the acting component as a rule requires more time. For two different dancers, for example, the same gesture may not be suitable. Working with the character is a very involved process because it forces not just the pedagogue but the student to delve deeply into the character and understand who he is, how he can move. But for me the most important task is teaching the students, the dancers, how to analyze. I can give several corrections about any sort of movement and the student does the movement taking the corrections into account. But the most important thing is not just hearing it and doing it, but analyzing, establishing in your head and receiving more valuable experience. The key to success and good growth is when the dancers can comprehensively work on the part and the character. Taking for example, Basilio, you can make it “wow” or you can simply dance it well.
How do you cope with injuries?
I always try, no matter what happens in life, to tell myself that everything will be fine. I had a serious injury, a rupture of the Achilles tendon. This is when the chances are 50/50 whether or not you will return to your profession. And given that I was already quite old for a dancer, 33 years old at the time, I naturally wondered if I’d be able to return. I always try to reassure myself that even if I couldn’t return to the stage, it means I would begin something else, for example, I’d have become a pedagogue sooner. And the main thing is not to lose heart in difficult situations and not to give up [Editor’s note: Zverev makes a play on words “not to throw up your hands”, adding “or legs”, meaning “not to give up in despair]. (laughs) … Insofar as is possible, everything can be corrected and built in your life, either on the same path or on a new one.
Do you believe in Fate?
Most likely yes. But I’d say that I believe in God and that everything is His Will, I think like that. Lots of things happen in life for a reason, even injuries make you think about a lot of things. The moment you get injured, you’re left alone with yourself and you wonder, “Why did this happen?” you begin to look at many things differently and this can probably be called Fate because such difficult moments which we face eventually make us, firstly, stronger, and secondly, they direct us where we need to go. Apparently, maybe, before that, I was going in the wrong direction.
What’s the hardest part of your profession?
The hardest part is the daily classes and rehearsals. The most unpleasant part as a dancer is waiting before the performance, the time prior to your entrance on stage. I hate that period, because you manage to think up a million different scenarios in that time, how something might not work out. But once you’re on stage, you don’t have those thoughts, you just dance, you’re focused, you in the moment. But everything “before” that – that’s not the most pleasant time.
What’s the best part?
The best part is being on stage.
Do you have a ritual before going on stage that helps you avoid being nervous?
I don’t have anything particular that I do. I know that before a performance I usually do everything the same way, but it’s not really a ritual. Many people have the rituals, they seem to be helpful to them, there’s nothing wrong with that. I’m simpler in that way. I tend to be more focused inside myself at that time, I don’t let my energy spill out, I’m less talkative.
Do you have any superstitions?
I’m not a superstitious person, since I believe in God. I understand that superstition isn’t right, and I shouldn’t believe in it, but some things “need to be” invented. The one thing is that I always enter the stage from the same side. And I sometimes ask myself “why I didn’t I enter from the other side? I could approach from the other side, it’s even more convenient.” But I don’t do it since for 10 years I’ve done it another way. It seems to me, sometimes things just occur automatically and you don’t think about it.
When you’re on stage is there a sensation that you’re part of something bigger?
I think more about the fact that God is helping me on stage. Many dancers prior to entering the stage cross themselves, and I also do that. And afterwards I thank God that everything went OK. I understand that He gives me strength. Most likely it’s like that.
Do you do other exercises, maybe going to the gym, or doing Yoga or Pilates, in addition to the workload in the theatre?
Yoga and Pilates – no, but periodically I add a workload in terms of fitness, for example, pumping iron for my upper body or my legs a little bit. But it is periodic because if I have a lot of performances, I don’t do anything extra, so that I can retain my energy for the performance. But yes, when I’m on vacation I force my wife and I to work out, she (Editor’s note: prima ballerina Nadezhda Batoeva) always says I don’t let her rest (he smiles). During vacation we will for example, rest for a week and then start to work out at the gym.
Do you cook at home?
Rarely, only if it’s on a day off. There’s just no time..
Do you follow a diet?
Prior to age 30 I didn’t watch what I ate at all, I could eat anything at all, burgers, sweets, sodas. But with the years your metabolism starts to change its tempo, and now I often stop myself otherwise extra kilograms will appear. I’ve got to watch my weight now, but you get used to it and it’s not hard to do. But I don’t count calories, it seems to me that’s difficult, nerve-wracking, and it breaks your psyche. You just need to try to eat correctly and then there are no problems.
Does a partner’s weight and height affect the results of a pas de deux?
I would say that temperament matters more. Of course ballerinas are all different in terms of height and weight, it’s harder with some and easier with others, but it doesn’t play a huge role for me. The most important thing for me is that I have [emotional] contact with the ballerina on stage, and if that is there, then it doesn’t matter what her height and weight are. A performance is easier when you’re both in your roles, and you write the story together.
What’s important for men in ballet?
There are basic physical traits that are always paid attention to: good flexibility, a good jump, nicely arched feet, height, and your appearance. When I joined the Academy, I was quite short and did not know that I’d become tall. I had bad feet, but now they’ve been developed as much as possible. Nonetheless there are always limitations in physiology, it’s not all simple. For example, flexibility – I developed it as much as was possible for me. Some people have an easier time with it, for some people harder. At the Academy, when I started there, we had a gymnastics class, but not to the extent they have now. I see that the boys come fully stretched out now. But they say that when you are more flexible, your jump is worse. I see that a lot, and I don’t know if there’s a direct correlation or not.
What advice do you have for young people?
If you’re speaking about children, then I’d give the advice to their parents. When you send your child to the Vaganova Academy, you immediately choose a profession for them which will be their main work and should be their favorite thing to do for many years. But at that age, when the child is 8 or 9 or 10 years old, it’s hard for them to know themselves what they want to become. So there is a huge responsibility for that choice on the parents. If you just want your child to “dance”, then it’s better to go to some choreography classes, it seems to me.
And for older children, I would advise them probably what I ask of my students: filter everything through your brain, both in terms of ballet technique and in terms of what you are trying to show to the viewer about your character, so that the audience understands the character and what is happening on stage. For me it’s important and I would like the children at the Academy to also learn this. Probably the pedagogues need to teach this to the students and then the pedagogues in the theatre to pass it along to the dancers.
Don’t the acting classes at the Academy give this formula to the children?
The acting classes release inhibitions, and help you not to be afraid on stage, and not to fear your own emotions. Often students first are shy in classes when your classmates watch you and you need to depict something. That’s difficult. But of course, acting class helps students think more about the characters whom they are dancing.
How has work in the theatre changed over the last 20 years?
The main change is probably the tempo of work. It has become faster and there are more performances. The main difficulty with this tempo is the quantity of time for rehearsals: it has been severely shortened and if for an experienced dancer that’s not so scary, because they’ve already performed everything, then for young dancers it is harder because they have to prepare a production in a short period of time, and the demand for quality has not been lowered, no one gives you a break. You need to go out and give a very high level of dancing. That’s probably the main change over the past decade.
Where do you draw inspiration from every day?
Sometimes it’s difficult, when you’re tired, there are a lot of performances and rehearsals. I don’t know where I take the inspiration from to be honest. And it seems there’s no strength left. And sometimes it’s enough to have one successful performance, and you think “Well, this is why I do all of this” and then you’re not so tired, your brain isn’t tired, and this is why you keep moving forward. I’m speaking about myself as a dancer. As a pedagogue, for example, you get tired in the studio, rehearsing, and in the evening you go to the performance and see a good result, even if it’s not 100% like you rehearsed, but you see that part of the student did well, then that’s enough, and you understand it’s not all in van. That’s a pleasant moment. There are different moments of enjoyment, when you’re dancing yourself or rehearsing someone else. It seems to me, I am less happy for myself than I am for others. When you watch from the sidelines, everything is seen in a different light, and you get more nervous when you’re watching your student. When you go out on stage yourself, you are pulled together, that’s it. But with students it’s all different. Initially, after starting pedagogy, I pushed myself into serious work and told myself, “You can’t do anything else now. Everything you were able to do, you did in the studio. And no matter what happens now, it no longer depends on you. If it doesn’t work out, no problem, and if it does, that will be great.” Of course you want the performance to be ideal, but we are people not robots, and you can always correct things later.
Do you have a dream for the future?
As a pedagogue, I’d like to provide maximum benefit in the future, and to help many dancers grow and build their artistic paths. In terms of life in general, I want the people near me to be happy, and to be able to make their lives better.
All photographs courtesy of the Mariinsky Theatre. From top: In “Don Quixote” by Mikhail Vilchuk (c) 2025; in “Coppelia”, Mikhail Vilchuck (c) 2024; as Vronsky in “Anna Karenina” by Alexander Neff (c) 2021; as Espada in “Don Quixote” by Natasha Razina (c); as Spartacus in “Spartacus” by Natasha Razina (c) 2025; in the “Legend of Love” by Natasha Razina (c) 2025; as Coppelius, in “Coppelia”, Mikhail Vilchuk (c) 2024; in the ballet “Twelve” by Mikhail Vilchuk (c).