"Hi. How have you been?" he says, the voice as unmistakable as the leap. That warm urgency, that light cadence and sharp accent.
Behind the voice, there's a clattering. Dishes. Maybe pans. The sounds evokes a mundane image: Baryshnikov in the kitchen.With Nureyev dead, Mikhail Baryshnikov is the last of an endangered species, the only superstar in dance. But that's where Baryshnikov is - at home between tours, in the kitchen of the house on the Hudson he shares with mate Lisa Rinehart and their young son and daughter.
Baryshnikov took his sharp turn toward modern dance after leaving the directorship of American Ballet Theater in a well-publicized huff in 1989. In the press, an orgy of name-calling followed him. "Big spender." "Irresponsible." "Destructive."
Surprisingly, he's willing to talk about it.
"It had nothing to do with money. When I left, there was practically no deficit. That was an invention," he says of his much-publicized prodigality. . . . Breaking silence about a stressful nine years, he says, "Emotionally I didn't have much support from the press. Nor from the board. It was hell. Money was never the question. Now they're talking a $6 million deficit, much more than when I left. I decided that my creative energy belongs somewhere else and I wanted to go on with my life and spend more time with my children."
The children are Alexandra, 12, whose mother is actress Jessica Lange; Peter, 4, and 1-year-old Anna, whose mother is former ABT dancer Rinehart.
The "somewhere else" his colossal creative energy went was to the White Oak Dance Project.
Howard Gilman, who owns White Oak Plantation, the 7,500-acre wildlife preserve where the company rehearses, is an authentic arts patron and longtime Baryshnikov benefactor. He built a studio on his estate, and when they are in residence, he cares for the dancers of both the White Oak and Morris companies like a devoted father.
A year ago, Baryshnikov returned to New York City Ballet to dance Balanchine's "Duo Concertante." In 1978-79 he had moved over there from ABT, and Balanchine didn't make a new work for him. But Baryshnikov never saw that as a slight, calling his time there the most important in his creative life.
Does he miss the daily contact with ballet?
"No, no, not at all," he said laughing, and quickly adding, "City Ballet dancers aren't ballet dancers; they don't have the mentality, the mind of a classical dancer."
Given his commitment to modern and contemporary choreographers, does he think ballet, that sometimes conservative, sometimes sterile art form, has a future?
"But of course, it definitely does (but) there are few truly intriguing and provocative works in the classical field. This is not a secret. I've been saying this for years. People try to stop me from saying this. Where is the interesting work? Just look around. Where is this work?" he says, bracketing his questions with tonal raised eyebrows . . . Somebody has to come along and rethink it, find a way to get those dancers enthusiastic about their work and put provocative things on stage."
Though his movie career has not been well accepted by the public, Baryshnikov was intrigued by his recent stage foray, playing a man-turned-insect in an adaptation of Kafka's chiller, "The Metamorphosis." He enjoyed working with Peter Sellars in his recent film, "The Cabinet of Dr. Ramirez," a silent remake of "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari."
"I would like to do something with (Sellars) in the theater. He's a talented man and has a very special vision," he said.
After a youth famously spent - with Gelsey Kirkland, Liza Minnelli, mother figure Billie (a.k.a. Countess Helga du Mesnil-Adelee), Lange and others - the boyish virtuoso has settled down on his rural three acres in Sneden's Landing in Rockland County, N.Y., with his new American family. He drives a Jeep Cherokee, assorted sports cars and, on the White Oak Plantation, a '57 Chevy.
He jokes that his newest daughter, Anna, "is not named for (New York Times dance critic) Anna Kisselgoff, but for my grandmother."
Alexandra, who lives in Virginia with Lange, is named for his beautiful mother Alexandra Kiseleva. When Baryshnikov was 12, she tearfully waved goodbye to him at a train station in Riga, Latvia. While he was on holiday with his soldier father, she hanged herself. He never found out why.
Her namesake used to dance, says Baryshnikov. "Now she's into horses. She's very athletic. She likes to go out fox hunting - and with men."
While Misha never took a salary as director of ABT, his many business ventures - bodywear, perfume, cologne - caused much name-calling by purists. "The businesses pay my bills. They let me do this,' " he says, laughing unapologetically.
He won't predict where he'll be at an older age. "I would like to live 10 more years and have a good appetite for life and help my children grow, and that's more than anyone can ask for."
In the middle of all this, a child's voice rises in the background. "Please." "One second," Baryshnikov says, turning to the voice in the kitchen. "I'll take you on the slide in just a minute," he tells Peter slowly.
So Misha in middle age is a trinity: a father trying to be a good one; a genius pushing the boundaries of his art, and oh yes, the greatest dancer of our time.
"One day I will go back to Russia," he says. "For the rest, there are a few pleasures left. To see your children happy. And sometimes after a nice performance, that's a pleasure, a satisfaction."