My capstone project: "Icarus and Hamartia – When We Leave, Do We Miss the Mark?" was born from a grief that I did not anticipate in the midst of my decision to step away from a ballet career for new entertainment pursuits.  I allowed myself for the first time in my life to feel some sense of accomplishment. Ballet leaves little room for this sensation – whatever you do, it is never good enough. You must keep working, keep fighting for that unattainable perfection that comprises this art form.

 

But now, as I prepared to tuck twenty years of work into a box of memories, I allowed myself to see, for perhaps the first time, how far I had come. I had once dreamed that I would become a ballerina. As I surveyed all that I had accomplished – I had stepped onto the stage in two principal roles my senior year, as well as numerous principal and soloist roles throughout my sophomore and junior years – I could see that perhaps my dream had been realized. It was short, unsatisfactory, and the ending was more painful that I could have anticipated, but those moments on stage, that brief time under the lights, adorned in tutu and crown, dancing at the pinnacle of inexplicable joy, that was mine, something that I had achieved, to touch the sky, no matter how far down was the ensuing descent. I remembered the story of a man who tried to reach the sun, only to die by the heat of this great star. I wondered if it was worth it – to be so close to such a magnificent sight – if it would only result in death.

 Icarus is rash, foolish, a lesson in pride and hamartia – the Greek term for character flaws that cause a hero to “miss the mark” (“Hamartia”).  Oscar Wilde is attributed to a quote that takes quite an opposing view on the flight and fall of Icarus.  “Never regret thy fall, O Icarus of the fearless flight, For the greatest tragedy of them all, Is never to feel the burning light”. According to this author, the fall and death of Icarus meant little in perspective of the great heights that he achieved.  Icarus in this view does not represent “hamartia,” or missing the mark, but rather is the ultimate example of “arete,” or the virtue of reaching one's fullest potential.

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For Icarus, this flight was the manifestation of his ideal self. It was a dream realized, a pursuit with great reward. The cost in such a pursuit was inherent, but diminishing in perspective of the accomplishment. Dancers often experience a parallel tragedy in retirement. The cost of investment in ballet is a resultant identity in dance which is so indistinguishable from one’s own that its loss results in grief, compounded by the sensation of failure as one leaves behind an all-consuming pursuit. And yet, this art form which requires every part of one’s self also provides the reward of such accomplishment that it becomes too great to be comparable to grief. As the wax melts from the dancer’s wings and she falls to the ground, never to return to the stage again, she can be sure that her efforts were worth this great cost – for in that brief moment, she was capable of flying.