Monday, Oct. 04, 2004

Yuan Yuan Tan

By Laura A. Locke

Halfway through a recent morning rehearsal, when most of her fellow dancers have broken into a sweat, Yuan Yuan Tan shows no sign of exertion. Without makeup or costume, her hair pulled back in a tight bun, the San Francisco Ballet star executes otherworldly leaps and turns and pirouettes. Utterly in control of her lithe, 167-cm body, she moves with such technical precision she appears to be flying on autopilot. But in a flash, after some undetectable misstep, the dancebot dissolves into a self-conscious schoolgirl. She puts her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle, sticks her tongue out sideways in embarrassment over a faux pas. Tan's mix of professionalism and puckishness presents a charming picture to strangers, one that is no less beguiling to those who work with her every day. Even in a room full of talented, graceful young women, "she makes you want to look at her," says Damian Smith, Tan's lead dance partner.

Magnetism is as good a word as any to describe Tan's allure, but it is insufficient to explain how at age 28 she has become one of the world's top ballerinas and the most critically acclaimed dancer ever to emerge from China. Native ability enabled the Shanghai-born Tan to win a gold medal in 1992 while competing for China at an international ballet competition in France—and to catch the eye of Helgi Tomasson, San Francisco Ballet's artistic director. Tan's determination helped her at age 21 to reach ballet's highest rank, that of principal ballerina, with the San Francisco troupe.

Now in her prime, Tan's dedication keeps her focused amid the distractions of fame. She danced at the White House for President Bill Clinton and Chinese Premier Zhu Rongji in 1999, and presented a key to the city to then Chinese Vice President (now President) Hu Jintao during one of his visits to San Francisco. "Her current achievement is not only her personal success," says Jin Xiangqun, administrative director of the Shanghai Dancing School where Tan once trained. "It has also brought great glory to our school and the country as well. She is our pride and the idol of many young girls."

During the 1992 French competition, Tomasson, a former lead dancer for George Balanchine, saw Tan's inner fire. "I could sense the desire—the drive to want to dance—to really enjoy what she was doing." That drive was practically innate. Her mother wanted to be a ballerina: "She passed on her dreams to me," says Tan, an only child. Tan remembers seeing a performance of Swan Lake on TV when she was five years old, after which she taught herself to walk en pointe. Her father, an engineer, thought dancing a frivolous career with a short life span. He wanted his daughter to follow in his footsteps. The parents argued, then settled the matter by flipping a coin. It came up heads, and Tan at age 13 was enrolled in the Shanghai Dancing School.

Keenly aware of her public stature, Tan offstage seems slightly guarded. Her English is imperfect, and she acknowledges being "a little shy" and "very quiet in front of strangers." She drives a Mercedes-Benz to work, but the car is one of the few posh aspects of her life. A single woman, she spends free time shopping or going to movies and art shows with friends. She is also studying Western philosophers such as Plato while finishing up her undergraduate degree in a program designed for professional dancers. Her parents, who moved to San Francisco three years ago, provide support. Her mother still makes soup for her every day. "Ballet is part of my life, but not all my life," Tan says.

Still, Tan works 13 hours a day, six days a week. "I always have to try harder," Tan says. "What the choreographer wants or the audience wants, it's like endless ... never enough. Never good enough." To audiences, Tan's performances come across as light, fluid and effortless. Most of the attendees do not know she has endured three stress fractures in her legs. "Maybe it looks easy on me, but it's not," she says.

Not that Tan is thinking of giving it up. Absent career-shortening injury, she should be able to continue dancing for many years. In the future, she hopes to return to Shanghai and open her own ballet school, to pass along her knowledge to the next generation. Tan says she has never forgotten what a judge told her in Paris: that dancing is not all technique—to be a true artist, one must "dance from the heart." Says Tan: "You have to feel the room, feel the characters, and feel deep inside of yourself. I don't think I have achieved this goal yet. But I'm trying to reach that point, little by little."

With reporting by Bu Hua/Shanghai