Formation of the Polski Balet Reprezyntacyjny and Asserting Niżyńska’s Polish Heritage

The Balet Polski was perhaps the first twentieth-century ballet company created explicitly to use touring performances to serve a diplomatic purpose. The Balet Polski Reprezyntacyjny was an artistic ensemble created by Jan Lechoń, a poet and cultural attaché in Paris, to present Poland’s ballet to global audiences.Footnote ⁶ National writers, artists, and composers were commissioned to compose the librettos, music, and designs of the 1937–38 repertoire to represent Poland’s national culture to other European audiences. Making its global debut at the 1937 Exposition Internationale des Arts et Techniques dans la Vie Moderne in Paris, the company subsequently performed at Covent Garden in London and thirty-three German cities, before embarking on a domestic tour in Poland.Footnote ⁷ Through Polish folk dances, danced homages to Polish romanticism, and interpretations of European modernity, the Balet Polski embodied Poland’s past and present. Unfortunately, it performed for just two seasons before the outbreak of WWII curtailed the company’s existence.

The Balet Polski’s General Director, Arnold Szyfman, recalled the speed with which the Polish Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the Polish Exhibition Committee approved of Lechoń’s proposal to establish a national ballet company to represent Poland at the 1937 Exposition Internationale.Footnote ⁸ The Balet Polski came into being within “eight to nine months” and approximately forty of Poland’s best dancers were assembled.Footnote ⁹ Integral to the ballet company’s existence was the presence of a ballet master of Polish heritage; Bronisława Niżyńska was nominated as a candidate for this important role as she was both a “Pole by origin and upbringing.”Footnote ¹⁰ Commonly associated with Serge Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes and her renowned brother, Wacław Niżyński, Bronisława Niżyńska became one of Europe’s leading choreographers. Her best-known ballets, Les Noces (1923) and Les Biches (1924), brought forth a new era of ballet modernism and experimentation to the ballet stage. Thus, her leadership represented a substantial contribution to the development of Polish ballet, if only she were accepted as a Polish artist.Footnote ¹¹

With the subjugation of the Russian empire still fresh in the nation’s memory, however, Niżyńska seemed acutely aware that her association with the Ballets Russes and the Imperial Theatre in Russia might create a challenging situation. The fact that both of her parents completed their dance training at the Ballet School of the Warsaw Wielki Theatre was largely overlooked by the Polish press, thereby diminishing Niżyńska’s familial ties to Poland.Footnote ¹² It was seldom mentioned that her parents, Tomasz Niżyński and Eleonora Bereda, were character dancers who taught their children Polish dances at home, or that Tomasz’s younger brother “had been exiled on suspicion of being involved in some uprising in Poland.”Footnote ¹³ The Niżyński family relocated frequently as prompted by their parents’ performance contracts throughout the Russian empire, however, it is clear that the family sustained a strong identification with Poland.Footnote ¹⁴ In her memoir, Niżyńska shared that “it was always our mother’s dream that each of her three children would someday dance on the stage of the Wielki Theatre in Warsaw.”Footnote ¹⁵ Polish was Niżyńska’s native language, and, although she was without formal training, it was the language she spoke at home with her mother and her mother’s family; throughout the 1920s until her mother’s death in 1932, Niżyńska corresponded frequently by mail with her mother in Polish. That is, in her private life, Niżyńska maintained a deeply personal connection to her Polish heritage.

Yet outwardly that connection to Poland was difficult to ascertain, as it regarded Niżyńska’s self-presentation. Eager to establish herself as an independent artist, Niżyńska had practiced under French names: “La Nijinska” or “Bronislava Nijinska.” Polish-language publications abroad presaged inconclusive acceptance of Niżyńska, pointing out her strong ties to Russian ballet and audiences’ association of her with the Ballets Russes. As the Parisian Polish-language newspaper, Illustrated Daily Courier, complained, the presented surname “Nijinska” evidenced incorrect Polish orthography in a form “like Russians write.”Footnote ¹⁶ As a result, the “ballets de la Pologne russe” were perceived as having been created by a “Russian Pole,” thus discounting the suitability of her representation of independent Poland.Footnote ¹⁷ Moreover, for the Polish Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the treatment of Niżyńska’s surname was not an inconsequential matter: while on tour in Germany, the office of the Polish Ambassador in Berlin explicitly reported frustration towards Niżyńska’s insistence for her surname to be printed as “Nijinska” rather than the Polish original, Niżyńska.Footnote ¹⁸ As a result, the “Russified” form of Niżyńska’s surname was printed for British, French, and German programs, only to be correctly presented for the domestic tour. Regarding her self-presentation, she refused to compromise, choosing her personal reputation over the propagandistic goals of the Balet Polski.

Despite her insistence on maintaining the conventional spelling of her professional name, Niżyńska was likely aware of the cultural tension that foregrounded her profile. Nina Youshkevitch, a Ballets Russes dancer who had previously danced for Nijinska’s Paris-based Théâtre de la Danse and was now invited to join the Polish Ballet, recalled how Niżyńska whispered to her that Russian was forbidden and they should speak in Polish while they worked among others.Footnote ¹⁹ Niżyńska understood that Polish would not only be integral to her connection with the dancers of the Balet Polski, but also to her acceptance into Polish society. With this in mind, Niżyńska conducted an interview in the Kraków-based newspaper Światowid, proclaiming her commitment to the endeavor and her love for her fatherland.Footnote ²⁰ In the summer of 1937, a buzz of excitement surrounded Niżyńska’s impending appointment. Upon one of her initial visits to Warsaw, Dziennik Bydgoski reported that Niżyńska had arrived in Warsaw to direct the Balet Polski.Footnote ²¹ That her engagement with the Balet Polski reached Bydgoszcz reflects a national level of interest in the establishment of a national company, rather than one restricted only to the largest cities. But Niżyńska’s task, to choreograph five ballets intended to encapsulate Polish culture, was no simple feat.

The theatre directors decided that Balet Polski would represent Poland with the following ballets: The Eternal Apollo, The Recall, The Legend of Cracowie, and The Song of the Earth.Footnote ²² The final ballet, Concerto E-moll (known in English as Chopin Concerto), based on Chopin’s eponymous composition, was devised entirely by Niżyńska and constitutes the only Balet Polski work over which she had full authority. Each of the five ballets had a distinct connection to the Polish Romantic tradition, suggesting the nation’s ballet tradition had not yet embraced a definitive departure from the folk themes reminiscent of nineteenth-century ballet.

Polish Ballet: From Imperial to National

Poland’s sovereignty presented a complex situation for ballet in Warsaw. Polish theatres were managed under the tsar’s government from the failed insurrection of 1831 to 1915, but the end of the Russian empire’s intervention in Polish politics also signaled the end of tsarist sponsorship for the arts.Footnote ²³ In 1928, the theatre critic Henryk Liński wrote in Muzyka that “it seemed, that together with our statehood, in the atmosphere of the general awakening to a new life and the idea of a Warsaw ballet working on new methods; unfortunately, have not been realized.”Footnote ²⁴ The disappearance of sponsorship in 1915 was difficult for the theatre, from whence, as Ciepliński claimed, the Teatr Wielki ballet ensemble underwent an “unfortunate period of slow decline…which lasted until September 1, 1939.”Footnote ²⁵ The headwinds presented by a lack of extensive funding and the absence of professional management for the capital’s ballet company were challenging at the institutional level, however, the inertia of Polish ballet’s development was also a result of adhering to nineteenth-century ballet aesthetics and repertoire.Footnote ²⁶ Ciepliński ascribed the decline in Polish ballet to the lack of a systematic effort to innovate it.Footnote ²⁷

As a result, in the decade leading up to Niżyńska’s arrival, the Teatr Wielki still performed repertoires reminiscent of the nineteenth century, while the training and interpretation of roles remained adherent to the practices of the century prior. In theatres across the Second Polish Republic, ballet repertoires in the 1920s remained quite firmly entrenched in the tradition of folk-themed ballets established as early as the 1820s. Despite a seemingly conservative approach, Polish ballet artists attempted to create a national choreographic style that adapted folk motifs, not unlike what national composers were also pursuing in music. Karol Szymanowski, an outspoken composer at the forefront of public debate on national culture was interested not only in reconfiguring how Poland regarded its musical legacy, but also how its artistic heritage should be adapted to reflect contemporary Polish reality.

As Szymanowski cautioned in his 1923 Skamander essay, “Fryderyk Chopin,” the national admiration of Chopin induced an “inability to grasp clearly and objectively the nature” of Chopin’s genius.Footnote ²⁸ Szymanowski contended that contemporary artists were preoccupied with the mythical status of Chopin as romantic composer, thus causing them to overlook the well-crafted form that defined Chopin’s compositions. “Fryderyk Chopin” attributed the “Polishness” of Chopin’s work to two formal qualities: the adoption of forms independent of the “literary-dramatic character” of the romantic era, as well as Chopin’s expression, “on behalf of his race, in suprahistorical terms” rather than the musical mirroring of the “contemporary, tragic collapse of the nation.”Footnote ²⁹ The essay posited that because the Polish artists that succeeded Chopin failed to comprehend the formal rigor of his work, they were unable to recreate his resounding success. To counter this disjunction, Szymanowski proclaimed the need to develop a “national cultural consciousness,” one which could understand “in a permanent, enduring form” Chopin’s genius as a “kind of phenomenon” in the context of Poland’s national artistic creativity.Footnote ³⁰ Doing so would enable Poland to accomplish the “transformation of values” that Chopin initiated a century prior and revitalize Chopin’s embodiment of “Europeanized Poland,” which “loses none of her racial peculiarities yet at the same time enjoys a high standing in European culture.”Footnote ³¹ Rather, Szymanowski qualified the ahistorical nature of Chopin’s work and its formal precision as the reasons why “enduring, truly Polish values” were universally understood by audiences beyond Poland.Footnote ³²

By appealing to Chopin’s universality and influence on other national traditions, Szymanowski established a clear case for Polish music to depart from the historical characteristics of the romantic era. However, Szymanowski’s essay touches upon a greater debate in Polish cultural discourse of the interwar period regarding the national myths of the nineteenth century and their social functions in the interwar period. Myth and memory are, as Anthony Smith qualifies, constructions that imagine and make secure the “tradition of continuity” that bind “a particular historical cultural community or ethnie.”Footnote ³³ Over time, Polish romanticism and its tropes of sentimentalism, messianic sacrifice, and uprising became a “metalanguage with which each Pole can enter into a community and communicate with others…that means his own image that resembles Romantic signs.”Footnote ³⁴ Thus, it is not only unrealistic “truths,” that myths make natural, but also interactions, experiences, and information becomes molded to fit within the framework of romanticism as a national metalanguage. In the frame of romanticism, Chopin’s oeuvre of mazurkas and polkas, among other national songs, assumed meaning and form to represent Poland as a stateless nation.Footnote ³⁵ Often based on dance forms and rhythms, folk-inspired songs, whose regional content was intertwined with classical musical form, served a signifying function for tripartite Poland. However, Szymanowski contended that if Chopin’s music could be extracted from the metalanguage of romanticism, its formal aspects could be semiotically understood and built upon to recreate his success.

Regarding the use of folk motifs and innovative compositional forms, Szymanowski was a great admirer of Igor Stravinsky, whom he once referred to as “the greatest living musician.”Footnote ³⁶ He often referred to Les Noces (considered the pinnacle of the Niżyńska-Stravinsky partnership) as a model of how folk inspiration could be adapted to form a new aesthetic and shape national musical style. Szymanowski’s published essays addressed what was missing in Polish ballet at the time: a transformation of folk motifs that could be molded to create a new aesthetic that challenged the romantic legacy and revolutionized contemporary Polish art.Footnote ³⁷ Polish ballet was idling because it was not daring to redefine itself apace with the series of modernist innovations that had reshaped Europe’s ballet tradition since the fin de siècle period.Footnote ³⁸ Szymanowski’s own attempts to catalyze change in Polish dance were not resoundingly successful, but, perhaps, Niżyńska’s choreographic fusion of folk themes and modernism would address the issue.

As chief choreographer of the Balet Polski, Niżyńska’s task was to train the company and create repertoires executed by the dancers at a caliber comparable to counterparts from other European nation-states.Footnote ³⁹ To highlight the distinctiveness of Polish dance heritage, the Balet Polski repertoire prolifically employed folk themes, which Niżyńska adapted. She was acutely aware of the Balet Polski’s program: to create “propaganda for Polish art, and nothing else.”Footnote ⁴⁰ Pieśń o ziemi, a ballet embedded within the nineteenth-century tradition of Polish folk-themed ballets, provides a point of departure for understanding how “Polish” Niżyńska was considered by contemporary critics and their appraisal of how her work fit into the greater oeuvre of Polish ballet.

A simplistic description of Polish folk culture, this program note was likely intended for foreign viewers, who would comprise the first audiences of the Balet Polski. Pieśń o ziemi consisted of three acts: the first was entitled “Bonfire,” followed by an act dedicated to the “Wedding,” and finally the “Harvest Festival” act.Footnote ⁴² The “Sobótka” act was an “echo of the ancient pagan rite, associated with the cult of sun and fire.”Footnote ⁴³ For this act, Niżyńska was inspired by the paganistic Kupała Night, which featured a “dance of jumping around the purifying flame.”Footnote ⁴⁴ The wedding act emphasized the “transition of the bride from the authority of her parents” to that of her husband, and indicated the “range of specific customary themes.”Footnote ⁴⁵ The ballet’s conclusion during harvest culminated in the devotion of a grain wreath to the field’s owner. It is also noted that “all these rituals are accompanied by choral songs and exuberant dance, like the oberek, kujawiak, mazur, polka, and others.”Footnote ⁴⁶ Pieśń o ziemi presented three tableaux of the Polish pastorale, and its dances signified an association to national geographies and the rich heritage embedded within those places. The ballet’s resonance with nineteenth-century themes reflected the broader aesthetics that governed Polish ballet in the interwar period.

While Pieśń o ziemi has been most likened to Les Noces, closer analysis reveals that the two ballets present Slavic folk themes in diverging manners.Footnote ⁴⁷ Whereas Les Noces was somber and used the corps de ballet to challenge the burden of marriage on women and the oppressive weight of peasant society on the individual, Pieśń o ziemi featured a flamboyant wedding of shapeshifting, weaving corps de ballets sequences that filled the stage with a palpable spirit of celebration. The choreography performed by Niżyńska’s dancers generated a firework energy of peasant gaiety and colorful dancing not unlike those depicted in the folk-inspired illustrations from Zofia Stryjeńska’s Vieilles Costumes Polonaises and Tańce Polskie (1927) series. Yet, Pieśń o ziemi differed from its Ballets Russes precursor insofar as its intention was to promote Poland’s European status by essentializing the beauty of the Slavic ritual, rather than its brutality. The divergence of Pieśń o ziemi from Les Noces underscores that the Balet Polski repertoire cannot be considered only in adjacence to that ballet, but rather, in conjunction with the “local couleur,” popular displays of Polish folk dance that proliferated in the Second Polish Republic.Footnote ⁴⁸ Those productions reiterated the nineteenth-century imagination of peasant gaiety, and the vibrancy of the costumes served as important markers characterizing the “Polishness” of the represented traditions. Niżyńska’s adaptation of Polish traditions in Pieśń o ziemi departed from that tradition, infusing her own choreographed modernism with national folk dances.

Just as Niżyńska’s choreography for Les Noces was inspired by Stravinsky’s score and its referencing of folk customs, so too was Pieśń o ziemi inspired by Roman Palester’s (1907–89) composition.Footnote ⁴⁹ The “dynamism” of Palester’s folk-inspired music, as the Kurjer Poranny noted, was “derived undoubtedly from Szymanowski.”Footnote ⁵⁰ As mentioned previously, Stravinsky’s composition for Les Noces was a great influence on Szymanowski’s folk-inspired compositions, thus enforcing the connection between the Balet Polski and Niżyńska’s prior work. Musically, Pieśń o ziemi evoked Les Noces insofar as folk motifs were integrated into percussive melodies and mechanistic tonalities. Niżyńska, highly attentive to musical form and rhythm, drew choreographic inspiration from the pulsing tempi that underpinned Palester’s work. With the music in mind, she would attempt to refashion the Polish folk tradition according to her choreographic style. She announced prior to the season that the dances “will be artistically stylized…everything by me will pass through the filter of my artistic taste.”Footnote ⁵¹ That is, her “stylized” presentation of Polish folk culture did not aspire to mimesis of its original form nor its nineteenth-century representations; instead, she would modulate national folk dances to comply with contemporary aesthetics of European ballet, as Szymanowski had advocated for in his theoretical and compositional works. Upon returning to Poland for the domestic leg of the tour, Niżyńska reiterated that sentiment, stating in an interview that “Pieśń o ziemi”…it is not simply the utilization of folk motifs, it is not simply the illustration of rituals but… art.”Footnote ⁵² Niżyńska made clear her intentions not to adapt Polish national dances as they had been by her predecessors, but, rather, based on her personal interpretation of how their depictions should be.Footnote ⁵³ Polish national dances served as a foundational language of movement that featured a dynamic array of swirling, spinning, and zig-zagging configurations that required the dancers to move rapidly across the stage while performing character dance sequences. The arrangements embodied a notion of eternal rhythm that was evident not only in the choreographic patterns of stylized mazurkas and obereks, but also in the natural rhythm of bodies darting and jumping across the stage to mirror the vivacity and fluidity of the rhythms that coursed through Palester’s music.Footnote ⁵⁴ By altering national dance traditions according to her conception of movement, Niżyńska attempted to adapt regional Polish specificities to suit the contemporary aesthetic of European ballet. Views of Pieśń o ziemi on the domestic tour were varied, thus revealing either a misunderstanding of her purpose—choreographing Polish dance for the multinational stage—or hesitancy towards accepting Niżyńska as a Polish artist.

Pieśń o ziemi: Portraying Poland’s Folk Dances

Folk dance loomed large in Niżyńska’s mind: in her memoirs, she referred frequently to the fact that her parents were character dancers.Footnote ⁵⁵ From childhood, Niżyńska was exposed to the national dances her parents performed. Yet, beyond family ties to folk dance, Niżyńska was dedicated to understanding the indigenous dances that would inform her choreography for the Balet Polski. As her daughter Irina recalled, prior to beginning the Balet Polski rehearsals, Niżyńska travelled to Wilno for a weekend to attend a folk festival.Footnote ⁵⁶ The dances that Niżyńska observed supposedly formulated the basis of the choreography for Pieśń o ziemi. Near the end of the Balet Polski’s season, after returning from their tour abroad, the ensemble took a three-day trip “in the south of Poland.”Footnote ⁵⁷ In her notebook, Niżyńska expressed great fascination in the regional music and dance traditions she encountered on the company’s excursion and was excited by the opportunity to see the dances in their native contexts. She noted how “the mountaineers, who maintain almost the entirety of the choreographic base…have everything—I speak not only of the famous dances—krakowiak, oberek, kujawiak, polka”; for her it was all “exceptionally interesting” and she “really did not want to leave.”Footnote ⁵⁸ Seeing Polish folk dances in their native environments seemed to reinvigorate Niżyńska’s creativity, which she had struggled with at different points during the touring season. Although Niżyńska only encountered the culture of Poland’s highlands towards the end of the season, she similarly found inspiration in the region’s traditions as Zofia Stryjeńska (1891–1976) and Szymanowski had.Footnote ⁵⁹

That Zofia Stryjeńska, a national painter inspired by folk motifs and Art Deco, served as an important artistic inspiration for Niżyńska highlights the curiosity of Niżyńska’s contact with, and understanding of Polish culture upon arriving in 1937. Stryjeńska’s folk-inspired art had been awarded four Grand Prix prizes at the Exposition Internationale des Arts Décoratifs et Industriels Modernes in Paris 1925.Footnote ⁶⁰ Her work was distinctly Polish but inhabited a space that stood between Polish provincialism and the suggested universality of artistic modernity. Through her stylistic representation of rhythmic movement, vivid costumes, and rural themes, Stryjeńska’s rhythmic images provided a visual guide to Niżyńska’s vision for Pieśń o ziemi.

The visual arts consistently served as a source of inspiration in Niżyńska’s choreographic practice; this dynamic is also visible in Pieśń o ziemi. Two books on popular Polish folk art—L’Art Populaire en Pologne: Les Découpures de Papier and L’Art Populaire en Pologne: Les Peintures Décoratives—remain in Niżyńska’s personal collection. In addition to Zofia Stryjeńska’s illustrations, the books and visual material retained by Niżyńska suggest that she was profoundly inspired by Polish folk traditions.Footnote ⁶¹ Books and prints of vivid illustrations depicting folk embroidery and floral motifs complemented postcards of Zofia Stryjeńska’s folk life illustrations.Footnote ⁶² Niżyńska also retained four postcards of Stryjeńska’s Tańce Polskie series, which depicted couples in colorful garb springing across the page to dance the oberek, krakowiak, mazur, and polonez.Footnote ⁶³ It was by studying the intricate patterns of the Zakopane-style decorative arts and images of Polish costumes as represented by one of Poland’s national artists, that Niżyńska formulated her personal interpretation of Polish folk culture. In a typed draft of the program description and libretto for Pieśń o ziemi, Stryjeńska is credited as one of the costume designers, and the artist’s vivacious depictions of folk life are found in the ballet’s verve and bold colors.Footnote ⁶⁴ The well-established tropes of folk weddings and celebrations that animated Stryjeńska’s artwork were performed also on the ballet stages of interwar Poland, thus shaping the expectations of Polish balletomanes and their opinions of Niżyńska’s Pieśń o ziemi.

The “Dożynki” act illustrates the visual complexity of Niżyńska’s layering of movement in Pieśń o ziemi. Ever-changing stage arrangements were superimposed upon character dance sequences to create a rich spectacle of layered movement. Niżyńska devised a system that not only considered how the dancers contributed to the choreographic action of the number, but also how their costumes would enhance the visual kaleidoscope of the movement.Footnote ⁶⁵ In “Dożynki,” Niżyńska carefully arranged groups of four men such that the costumes of each quartet would incorporate variation in style and color. Some men danced in long shirts, others in brown or blue sukmanas, and their pants lit up the stage with lilac, red, and green hues. The dancers’ costumes emulate traditional garments and footwear, establishing a direct connection between Pieśń o Ziemi and the “land” intimated in the ballet’s title. Dancing boots evoked the footwear typical of the mazurka or krakowiak, at once validating the ballet’s folk sources while also enabling the dancers’ footwork to produce audible thuds and stomps onstage that amplified the celebratory excitement and authenticity of the ballet. Her diagrams depict lines of dancers moving together forward and backward onstage and swirling into spirals to evoke an energetic image of cutting and collecting scores of wheat.Footnote ⁶⁶ The powerful momentum of dancers moving synchronously across the expanse of the stage imbued the choreography with a sense of verve and rhythm. The dynamism of collective movement integrated her character dances with the percussive beat of Palester’s folk-inspired melodies; in doing so, the group dances of Pieśń o ziemi fulfilled an alternative embodiment of the nation’s folk-ballet tradition by using group movement to amplify the exuberance inherent in Polish folk music.

As was the case in Les Noces, the larger visual composition onstage—a product of specific placement and movement of individual dancers—was an important mark of her integration of choreography and music. For example, in the dance with scythes, the diagonal of men extends across the longest possible line on stage, thus creating the illusion that the stage is a field, filled with reapers. The harmony of their danced movements recreated the action of harvest; Niżyńska interwove the swaying strikes of scythes and energetic bounds across the stage to embody a contemporary idyll occurring in golden wheat fields. Featuring motifs relating to folk celebrations and daily practices in village life, Niżyńska’s group dances used moving arrangements of dancers to emphasize the thrilling tempos of Polish folk dance. Pieśń o ziemi was in constant motion, and the ballet used the force of the dancers’ movement to highlight the visual and auditory vibrancy that distinguished Poland’s folk tradition.

Years after the inaugural Balet Polski season, Niżyńska’s dancers regarded how the dance with scythes in “Dożynki” displayed Niżyńska’s masterful use of the music to amplify the power of group dances. The dance with scythes embodied the annual ritual of wheat collection, and to evoke the power of communal work, Niżyńska arranged the men in diagonals extending across the stage, as if they were immersed in rows of wheat. As one of the male dancers recounted, the scene was “terrific” because it replicated the rhythm inherent to cutting wheat, but the rhythm multiplied across the bodies onstage.Footnote ⁶⁷ What made it particularly clever, in his opinion, was that the synchronized rhythm existed independent of, yet complementary to, Palester’s music. As such, in the scythe dance Niżyńska interwove two rhythms: the rhythm of Palester’s score served as a complement to the rhythm embodied in the sequence of harvest. Nina Youshkevitch similarly recalled how “powerful” the movements of the men were.Footnote ⁶⁸ While the memories of those two dancers can only partially recreate the impact of Niżyńska’s choreography, their statements affirm the importance of rhythm in Pieśń o ziemi’s group dances. Integral to Niżyńska’s modernization of Polish folk dance was the emphasis on the kinetic vigor and rhythm embedded within the tradition, which was embodied by the continuous movement of the Balet Polski dancers.

By fashioning folk-inspired dances to appear authentic and natural, Pieśń o ziemi exemplified the deep-rooted association of Polish folk dance with regional customs and national heritage. To this end, the multiplicity of movement and the constantly changing spatial configurations created a textured depiction of the varying rhythms that idealized rural life. Thus, Pieśń o ziemi did not simply demonstrate the proceedings of Polish folk traditions, but instead, using layered patterns of motion and rhythm, expressed the buzzing joy of each celebration. However, the reviews reveal discordant perceptions of Niżyńska’s alterations of national dance traditions.

Some reviews exhibited an underlying critique of her choreography’s disharmony with contemporary Polish music and its representation of national traditions. As Jerzy Walldorf opined in the Warsaw Kurjer Poranny, “the dynamism of Palester’s music…meant, that the ballet seemed to dance under imposed rhythms, fascinated, carried away by them.”Footnote ⁶⁹ By identifying an incongruity in Niżyńska’s choreography with Palester’s music, Walldorf’s commentary intimated dissatisfaction towards her contribution to the revitalizing of Polish folk dance. Also discouraging of Niżyńska’s modernized interpretation, Segodnia, a Russian-language newspaper in Riga, caustically cited an overreliance by Niżyńska on the mazurka, stating that Pieśń o ziemi was “…heavily stylized. It is more so shepherds and shepherdesses of the modern style…again, passed through the prism of fantasy of the ballet master—a modernist.”Footnote ⁷⁰ Furthermore, the Segodnia review described Niżyńska’s interpretation of the mazurka as “extremely enthusiastic,” but did not divulge in what ways her choreography sacrificed original folk models in favor of modernist transformation.Footnote ⁷¹ On the other hand, these comments differ from alternative reviews that Pieśń o ziemi “merged dance and the music of Palester into one harmony.”Footnote ⁷² The comments betray an incongruity regarding the assessments of Palester and Niżyńska as two artists stylizing Polish folk motifs. It appears that, as it regarded Palester’s composition, his intervention in Polish folk motifs was considered a welcome development in contemporary Polish music. Exciting to the reviewers was the composer’s reinterpretation of folk music, which they considered held great promise for incorporating national heritage into contemporary musical compositions. On the other hand, Niżyńska’s use of rhythm was largely misunderstood as being either derivative of Palester’s music or straying from its original sources in national culture. The ambiguity surrounding the appraisal of Niżyńska’s choreography underscores not only how novel her interpretation of Poland’s national dances was to theatrical reviewers in the Second Polish Republic, but also her status as an outsider in Polish society.

In reference to the national ballet aesthetic of the interwar period, what exactly did critics expect from Pieśń o ziemi? It seems they expected the ballet to follow in the footsteps of Szymanowski’s Harnasie insofar as there was to be a clear storyline—expressed in folk dance, mime, and ballet sequences—that would illustrate the regional culture of the Polish highlands. Or perhaps critics expected Niżyńska’s choreography to resemble that of Piotr Zajlich’s, the Teatr Wielki ballet master, as the motifs of wedding, harvest, and Kupała customs were prevalent in other folk-themed ballets performed by the Teatr Wielki ballet ensemble since the early nineteenth-century. Pieśń o ziemi’s thematic relationship to a longstanding tradition created a difficult landscape for Niżyńska to traverse as she attempted to modernize Polish national tradition for international audiences.

Pieśń o ziemi challenged Polish critics to accept Niżyńska’s interpretation of Poland’s national dances, which differed from the folk-inspired ballets created in the interwar period. As Niżyńska disclosed in her Światowid interview, if Poland wished to exhibit its national motifs as a contribution to European ballet, then folk dances required renewed interpretations of localized traditions.Footnote ⁷³ She made expressly clear that in order to distinguish the Second Polish Republic, the Balet Polski presentations of folk dances would diverge from past characterizations.Footnote ⁷⁴ In this sense, her choreography for Pieśń o ziemi was not properly understood: her objective was not to simply illustrate Polish folk life, which Segodnia felt was inaccurately represented, but was instead to take the essence of Poland’s folk dances and demonstrate their compatibility with modernist ballet. The issue was perhaps not that Niżyńska’s stylization was unfamiliar to Polish audiences, but rather that she stylized the national dances at all.

The matter of Niżyńska’s interpretation of folk motifs returns to her status as a foreigner. Despite the repeated affirmation of her Polish heritage, which she referenced and was also broadcast by the press, Niżyńska was not considered a national artist in the same sense as Palester or Szymanowski were.Footnote ⁷⁵ It was not for lack of trying: in public interviews, Niżyńska spoke of how “for many years I dreamed of how to create Polish ballet.”Footnote ⁷⁶ She made evident her personal connections to Warsaw and how she valued Poland’s dance tradition as one of the world’s best. Yet domestic reviews did not always spare mention of her unfamiliarity with Polish culture, and if taken as indicative of wider opinion reflect broader questions surrounding the definition of a “national artist.”

Upon watching the Balet Polski in their first Warsaw visit, at the beginning of April 1938, Kurjer Polski remarked on Niżyńska’s success as a “genius Polish ballet mistress, arriving here, as if to a foreign, almost hostile land.”Footnote ⁷⁷ While other reviews were not antagonistic to Niżyńska’s leadership—in fact there seemed to have been general excitement regarding her appointment—the lexicon makes evident that Niżyńska’s Polish heritage did not make her a local artist. The Wilno Kurjer was even more forthright in its description of the company as one “represented by an outsider.”Footnote ⁷⁸ Notwithstanding her full Polish heritage, Niżyńska was “closely associated with the triumphs of Russian choreography” despite her reputation as the “greatest promoter of ballet in the whole world,” as Wilno’s Russkoe Slovo described her.Footnote ⁷⁹ These descriptions of Niżyńska highlight the ambiguous consideration of her as an alien, not unlike the peculiar presentation of her surname according to the Gallicized “Nijinska,” which prevented her unanimous acceptance by Polish reviewers.

Pan Twardowski: Familiarity in Polish Myth

While Pieśń o ziemi raised formal concerns about Niżyńska’s vision of Polish folk dance, there were also instances in which her utilization of those traditions were applauded by the Polish press. The other folk-inspired ballet, Baśń Krakowska, was positively received for the choreography’s accentuation of the national dancers’ métier and harmonization with national idioms of heritage. Baśń Krakowska was a two-act ballet, which during the company’s tour abroad was frequently described as “the story of a Polish Faust.”Footnote ⁸⁰ The ballet’s libretto was written by Ludwik Hieronim Morstin, the 1936 recipient of the Polish Academy of Literature Golden Laurel, to be paired with music by Michał Kondracki.Footnote ⁸¹ Baśń Krakowska revived the Slavic legend of Pan Twardowski by utilizing complex choreographic and musical expressions to convey the story to its audiences. With costume and stage designs by Teresa Roskowska, Baśń Krakowska transported its audiences through the Krakowian markets of the Jagellonian dynasty and into the inescapable pits of Hell. Wawel Castle loomed in the backdrop as a symbol of Poland’s renewed independence, as the ballet’s fantastical plot unfolded through group dances and pantomimic sequences.Footnote ⁸² In Baśń Krakowska, critics searched for markers that distinguished the Polish dimension of the Faustian myth, rather than measuring success by the veracity of folk traditions.

In structure, Baśń Krakowska emulated the multi-act, narrative libretto model of the nineteenth-century ballet.Footnote ⁸³ A performance of elaborate storytelling, ballets were not unlike the operas of the time in terms of “length, the complexity of their narratives, and tendency toward visual spectacle.”Footnote ⁸⁴ The emphasis on visual spectacle played to the theatrical strengths of Leon Schiller and Arnold Szyfman, who had created the ballet’s plan prior to Niżyńska’s arrival.Footnote ⁸⁵ Both men were experienced theatre directors of large-scale drama performances, but their visual direction of Baśń Krakowska clashed with Niżyńska’s vision for the ballet. She did not appreciate that Szyfman had already appointed Teresa Roszkowska and Władysław Daszewski for décor and costuming, and took serious issue with Szyfman’s request for her to “compromise” with her artistic objectives.Footnote ⁸⁶ In response, Niżyńska emphasized that she was guided by “moral and artistic accountability,” and insinuated that Szyfman simply could not understand her position as he had “never worked with ballet.”Footnote ⁸⁷ This deficiency in Szyfman’s experience was apparent to Niżyńska in the ballet’s libretto, which did not comprise of “any continuous dances…not a single solo…not a single pas de deux, that is, duet.”Footnote ⁸⁸ She considered the libretto “not for ballet, everything was monotonous…many images with large groups of artists,” so she adapted to the ballet’s planning by intertwining pantomimic acting with choreography.Footnote ⁸⁹ Despite her initial reservations, Niżyńska’s choreography for Baśń Krakowska was favorably received for its wonderful display of pantomimic dances that showcased the strengths of the Balet Polski dancers.

Polish critics enjoyed the rich spectacle of Baśń Krakowska’s varied scenes and interpretation of the Pan Twardowski myth. Unlike reviews of Pieśń o ziemi, deviations from authentic regional traditions were overlooked in critical opinions of Niżyńska’s theatricalized choreography. Warsaw’s Ilustrowany Kuryer Codzienny found the ballet brought forth “undoubted choreographic artistry and moments of polyphony that have not yet been observed in Poland’s operating ballet groups,” which highlighted the dancers’ “maximum effort…as if a new spirit permeates the ensemble.”Footnote ⁹⁰ The Lwów newspaper, Chwila, considered several scenes, in particular Twardowski’s journey to hellish inferno, as especially interesting because of “the precision on the side of mime-acting.”Footnote ⁹¹ This review attributes the ballet’s successful expression to a distinctly theatrical display of pantomimic acting, rather than danced illustrations. It seems that the fantastical nature of the ballet effectively concealed the company’s inexperience and highlighted their strong execution of choreography that merged theatrical expression and dance. Dziennik Polski, also in Lwów, considered “the dance was full of spontaneity, which is part of the ensemble’s character.”Footnote ⁹² Nonetheless, despite the lively interpretation of Pan Twardowski’s tale, critics desired a visual presentation in which the Polish element of the parable was more discernible.

Reviews suggest that despite the dynamic spectacle that was Baśń Krakowska, it lacked a distinct relation of Twardowski’s myth to its Polish origins. Roszkowska’s designs deviated from reviewers’ expectations for how medieval Kraków should be reimagined, resulting in criticisms of her interpretation of national folk motifs. The same Dziennik Polski review, as above, noted that “in the first act Twardowski excessively resembled Faust.”Footnote ⁹³ This comment sheds light on an expectation for the Balet Polski to have presented the distinctiveness of Polish folk tradition, and, transitively, the nation’s individuality. The underscoring of the nineteenth-century conception of the nation as a distinctive, unified community pervades reception of Baśń Krakowska’s visual components, which were perceived as insufficiently connected to Kraków’s symbolism. Roszkowska’s “‘synthetic’ Krakowian decorations and costumes…can serve as an example of not exploiting the colorful possibilities inherent in folklore” did not sufficiently align with the domestic expectations for how Twardowski’s tale should appear.Footnote ⁹⁴ Audiences expected folkloric imagery to highlight the Krakowian traditions that distinguished the Twardowski myth, and, transitively, Baśń Krakowska as a tale of Polish origin. To this end, Roszkowska’s decorations were observed as too pale, and in combination with an unclear “script,” would be difficult for a foreigner to understand without context of Twardowski’s myth.Footnote ⁹⁵ While this observation seems to conflate two differing issues: the clarity of the libretto and the style of the decorations, it nonetheless points to an established conception of how Polish folklore should be visually represented. Positioned between the universality of modernism and the specificity of national representation, the creativities of both Niżyńska and Roszkowska were critically appraised for their formal deviations from an approved ideal of Polish visuality.

The critical commentary regarding excessive modifications to folk material reveals an inertial attitude towards attempts to revisualize Polish folk traditions. The diverging reception of Baśń Krakowska and Pieśń o Ziemi demonstrates that context was the main determinant in the approval of Niżyńska’s interpretation of Polish traditions. Even though both ballets prominently featured Polish folk dance, the localization of the ballet in Kraków and the myth of Pan Twardowski inflected her choreography through a lens of familiarity. Framed by Kraków and Wawel Castle, Baśń Krakowska bridged the distance between Polish critics and Niżyńska’s work as a representative of the Second Polish Republic. On the other hand, by deviating away from Poland’s folk-inspired ballet tradition, the plotless tableaux of Pieśń o Ziemi were viewed by critics as instances exhibiting Niżyńska’s unfamiliarity with national traditions. Critical opinions regarding the two ballets reveal a delineation of her choreography into two distinct categories: dances that embodied Polishness by incorporating Niżyńska’s modernism into Polish folk culture and choreography that appeared to co-opt Polish traditions for her individual mode of choreographic expression.

The Balet Polski management sought choreography that would emphasize the richness of Polish heritage while simultaneously asserting the dynamism and innovation of its culture despite the nascency of Polish statehood. As choreographer, Niżyńska facilitated that fusion of tradition and modernity for the company. Yet domestic reviews reveal that, when undertaken abruptly, the reimagining of Poland’s dance tradition was met with mixed approval. There existed a framework for amending national dances for the ballet stage, but excessive modification towards European modernity challenged the paradigm of national representation in Polish ballet. The reformation of national dances challenged the myths of Polish geography symbolized by the regionally titled dances, such as the mazurka or krakowiak. Although Niżyńska attempted to make Polish folk dance compatible with European modernism as she saw fit, it could simultaneously have been interpreted as an attempt to delocalize folk dance or divorce regional specificity from the nation’s dance tradition. The tepid reception of Niżyńska’s interpretation of Polish folk culture reflects the greater perspective surrounding her as a Polish choreographer whose praxis and self-presentation was aligned with the modernist view of internationalism.

Other scholars, however, have proclaimed that Niżyńska’s stylization of Polish folk dance reminiscent of the imperial Russian tradition of character dance.Footnote ⁹⁶ Without proof of Niżyńska’s “Russification,” of national dances, it is difficult to confirm that Niżyńska’s dismissal was a direct result of her affiliation with the Russian empire. Zajlich and Niżyńska’s successor, Leon Wójcikowski, also both danced with Ballets Russes and would have understood the commercial popularity of folk motifs in Diaghilev’s repertoire. Although Zajlich and Wójcikowski trained in Warsaw, it cannot be confirmed that their folk-inspired choreography was entirely devoid of Ballets Russes influences, and therefore, of Russian tradition. For Zajlich, who was integral to Polish ballet in the interwar years prior to Niżyńska’s appointment, to completely eliminate the influences of the Ballets Russes and Anna Pavlova’s company from his work would denote that he consciously rejected ongoing developments in early twentieth century ballet choreography. That Wójcikowski would choreograph folk dance without imprints of Diaghilev’s company suggests that the company reverted back to nineteenth-century aesthetics after Niżyńska’s departure.Footnote ⁹⁷ The perception of Niżyńska’s “Russification” of folk dance and public disapproval of her “Russianness” is evident in contemporaneous reviews. Yet the perpetuation of the hypothesis that she was terminated for that reason in particular is largely the result of the narrative posed by Polish ballet historians.Footnote ⁹⁸ Without official documents to prove otherwise, the contemporary reviews can neither confirm nor deny that Niżyńska’s termination was a result of her excessively “Russified” choreography and identity.

As the press reviews disclose, Polish critics neither whole-heartedly accepted nor staunchly rejected Niżyńska as a national artist. In public interviews, she emphasized her commitment to propagating the excellence of Polish dance and exhibiting the nation’s European character. There was a concerted effort to promote Niżyńska as an artist dedicated to serving her “fatherland,” yet while rehearsing and performing in Poland, she was acutely aware of the perception of her as a foreigner. So, in public she conducted herself only in Polish, to diminish her alien—and particularly Russian—profile. Throughout the 1937–38 season, Niżyńska was an artist caught between the Russian and Polish ballet traditions. Her implies that her efforts to underscore her Polish roots were insufficient to her elevation as a national artist.

Niżyńska’s “alien” status can be attributed to her association with the Russian empire and its dance tradition, which has been cited as the reason for her ungracious dismissal. According to Janina Pudełek (1930–2004), a leading Polish ballet historian who interpreted the engagement from a nationalist perspective, Niżyńska’s character dances were composed according to the Russian style. This imperial permutation of folk traditions would naturally incite disapproval, as the Polish nation had recently regained its independence, but it is difficult to confirm that this was the form Niżyńska’s choreography adopted. Furthermore, the practice of “making folk dances ballet” had already been established a century earlier and was endemic to the European ballet tradition. It is plausible to consider that her education at the Imperial Academy and her work with the Ballets Russes shaped her choreographic style. However, the Russian school of character dance, in its current form, only established its roots in the 1920s, and, given the isolation of the Soviet Union, it remains unclear how abreast Niżyńska was of the formalization of character dance as a discipline.Footnote ⁹⁹ Moreover, Pudełek’s claim does not pay heed to the fact that Niżyńska’s first teachers—her parents—were Polish dancers trained in Warsaw’s Teatr Wielki, nor does it acknowledge the presence of prominent Polish dancers in the Imperial Theatre, such as Felix Kschessinsky, during Niżyńska’s schooling. It so follows that it is difficult to ascertain whether Niżyńska’s stylization of Polish folk dances was true to the imperial Russian style as Pudełek argues.

Nonetheless, Niżyńska’s extended affiliation with Russian institutions and traditions presented an issue for her acceptance. The ambiguity of her identity was magnified by the fact that, apart from a brief transit through Poland in 1921, Niżyńska had not lived in Poland or the Second Polish Republic. Her daughter recalled how, prior to the premiere of the Balet Polski, the impresario, Sol Hurok, criticized the Poles for hiring a Russian-trained choreographer, particularly when the nation had its own rich ballet heritage.Footnote ¹⁰⁰ Such a statement, not only sparked friction toward Niżyńska’s appointment but also underscored the restrictive definition of “national.” Despite her heritage and childhood, Niżyńska was excluded from representing the Second Polish Republic as an incontrovertible Pole. The reception of Niżyńska, as an artist portraying Polish heritage, reveals that some domestic critics considered her choreography a misinterpretation of the Polish ballet tradition and, therefore, saw her as an inappropriate representation of the Polish nation.

As such, assuming that Niżyńska was terminated because of her imperial training and association with Russian ballet further reifies the consideration of Niżyńska as a foreigner. Her personal collection of books on Polish political and cultural histories, including one by the Polish ethnographer Oskar Kolberg, reveals a sustained interest in connecting to her Polish heritage through her engagement with the Balet Polski.Footnote ¹⁰¹ Moreover, that her private papers indicate her consistent communication in Polish complicates the classification of Niżyńska as a purely Russophone artist. Yet the consensus of Polish critics was not unanimous in its consideration of her as either Russian or Polish; print reviews intimate that she occupied an indeterminate zone between these classifications. Therefore, the question of her national identity cannot be defined simply along the Warsaw-St. Petersburg axis. Her worldview was shaped by the distinct artistic movements, collaborators, and cities she inhabited until this point; at the same time, Niżyńska’s amalgamation of experiences and her choreographic distinction were integral to her appointment as Balet Polski’s head ballet mistress. In that role, Niżyńska’s artistic remit was to choreograph ballets that would represent Poland and elevate the nation-state’s status on the international stage. She fulfilled this objective: the Balet Polski received a Grand Prix award at the 1937 International Exposition and earned great praise from critics abroad. Even with these achievements in hand, Niżyńska was deposed from her position and quickly replaced. Dated May 1964, Niżyńska wrote the following message in one of her Chopin Concerto notebooks:

Even decades later, feelings of bitterness surrounded Niżyńska’s memory of her leadership of the Polski Balet Reprezentacyjny.