USD Magazine, Spring 1992

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Theater

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Voice

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Ballet

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fl t's half past nine on Tuesday morning during Spring Break. Plenty of parking spaces line cam– pus lots; janitors' carts full of brooms and spray bottles stand in dark corridors outside classrooms. But for gTaduate student Demetrio Cuzzocrea, 27, and his seven classmates, it is the first day of another six– day week. Cuzzocrea has nine or 10 hours of classwork and private instruction ahead of him today. Not every week has been like this since school started in Septem– ber - when he is in rehearsal or performing, the hours are even longer. Cuzzocrea and the others in Room 101, Sacred Heart Hall, are at the halfway point in their ballet class. All but one stands in the center of the mirrored room, each with a leg poised atop the ballet barre. Classmate Dan Gunther sits on the sidelines, recovering from shoulder surgery he elected to have during this "slow" period in the schedule. Tall and graceful, his sand-colored hair gathered into a ponytail, Cuzzocrea could almost pass for a dancer. He is of Italian/American descent, with fine, classic facial features and a strong nose. He's not as good as Court– ney Jo Watson, who arches her upper body away from the barre with practiced grace. Then again, he's not having as much trouble as Michael Nichols, whose NBA– sized foot is being gently pulled down into a point by instructor Debbie Lenz.

Studentd might enter

the O[i) Globe Theatre I USD

Ma.1ter ofFine Art.1

program ad Green Beret.I,

doctord or lifeguardd,

but after two year.1 they

all emerge ad actor.1

well-trained in

the cla~uic.1.

By Patti Te.1terman