By STEPHEN PIER

Alfredo Corvino was the gentleman who taught me and countless others "the art of classical theatrical dancing." That description of what most others simplistically refer to as "ballet" was borrowed from the Cecchetti manual, and very clearly describes Mr. Corvino's approach to an art form that aligns itself with the aesthetic principles of classicism (harmony, proportion, civility); is meant to be performed in a theater to an audience; and is, aside from all else, dancing. He graciously embodied these precepts and communicated them with such consistency that it was impossible to study with him and not come away with information that would somehow influence your work and your understanding of dance. That is why so many dancers—from the worlds of classical, modern, theatrical, tanz theater, and the avant-garde—all studied with him.

I came to Alfredo as a young man, in order to prepare for my audition for The Juilliard School. In fact, he was the main reason I chose the School above others. His reputation was impeccable as a teacher who taught "the real thing," according to the dancers I most respected. There were many teachers around who were perhaps more en vogue from time to time. Most of them played guru to vulnerable dancers, feeding their insecurity by insisting on the need for private lessons (at huge prices) or discrediting all other teachers while claiming to be the sole possessor of the great mysteries of Terpsichore. Alfredo, on the other hand, presented the work with such clarity and logic that the truth of what he imparted was abundantly evident. It was a simplicity born of much thought, great knowledge, and extensive experience. It was not the simplistic utterance of dogma or superficiality. He had the integrity to let the work speak for itself, and to trust that sooner or later the laws of nature will tell us the truth.

Read an obituary for Alfredo Corvino.

Of course, not everyone really wants to hear the truth. I remember once complaining about somebody else's class, and why I found it so inferior to his. He would have none of it. "Well, Stephen," he said, "tendue is still tendue." He was my main teacher and I considered myself a devout adherent—but he was telling me that it is not about personality; it's about dancing. He was generous and wise enough to trust that, if I had really learned anything, I could work anywhere with anybody. This is, to me, what his greatness was all about: generosity, wisdom, and truth. He is sorely missed and greatly appreciated.

Stephen Pier, who danced with the Royal Danish Ballet, Hamburg Ballet, and José Limón Company, has been on the dance faculty since 1995.