It was both a surprise and not a surprise when Cassandra Trenary announced last spring that she would be leaving American Ballet Theatre, decamping to Europe, and joining the Vienna State Ballet. Trenary had been a much-admired dancer at ABT—a company she describes as being like family—since 2011. But more recently, she had expressed a desire to be onstage more than the limited number of performances that were coming her way as a principal. She felt ready for a new challenge. Her arrival in Vienna in the fall of 2025 coincided with the inauguration of a new director, the ballerina Alessandra Ferri, with whom Trenary has worked closely on several roles. The move has been transformative. In her first season, Trenary performed a broad repertory, from Alexei Ratmansky’s Kallirhoe to Balanchine’s “Rubies” to Justin Peck’s Heatscape. In May, she debuted as the lead in Sir Kenneth MacMillan’s Manon, a role she has coveted for a long time. And this summer, she will return to a dance that has come to feel like a second skin: Molissa Fenley’s punishing and transcendent contemporary solo to Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring, State of Darkness, which Trenary first performed in 2020. She’ll dance it in a one-night-only engagement at New York City’s Joyce Theater on July 19 before appearing at the Venice Biennale July 31–August 1.
So, does Vienna feel like home yet?
That’s a complicated question. Vienna is a very quiet city, and I do think I thrive in hustle and bustle. I mean, no one jaywalks here! Everybody literally waits until the light turns green, even if there are no cars! But I’ve told myself that I’m not just living in Vienna, I’m living in Europe. I can easily go to Paris or Copenhagen or London. Last weekend I flew to Paris to see two exhibitions I had been dying to see. But also, I love my apartment here, just 15 minutes from the opera house. And I love the people I work with. I’m making some really lovely connections, both inside and outside of the opera. I’m here to work and grow.
There is something about being on your own in a new city that is both uncomfortable but also so revealing about the self, isn’t there?
I have the time to dream. Sometimes I can get a little bit sad, but it’s interesting to feel that sadness. I’ve been reading so much, writing so much. I’ve been taking long walks, and taking lots of photographs. I’m trying to push myself to expand a little bit more in the world.
What has it been like to work with Alessandra Ferri in the studio?
I’ve found great comfort in working with Alessandra, who wants me to dive further into what I’ve already been exploring with the full-length classics: finding humanity, finding truth, finding a reason for every single step, rather than just have things be perfectly executed, perfectly defined. What’s interesting, too, is that the technical stuff that I used to struggle with really hasn’t been an issue at all.
Why do you think that is?
I’m onstage so much; there’s something about that familiarity. It reminds me of when I was in the corps de ballet and a soloist at ABT, and I was on the Met stage for eight weeks. I haven’t felt this comfy onstage since those early ABT days, when I was constantly out there. You get into a flow. So even if I feel exhausted, my body is able to execute everything and carry me through.
Is the roster in Vienna very international, like it is at ABT?
There are Italians and Brazilians and Portuguese and Ukrainians and Russians. I think the difference with ABT is that there are fewer Americans. It’s kind of cool to be in the minority.
In July, you’ll be revisiting Molissa Fenley’s State of Darkness for the fifth time. What does this solo mean to you?
When it came into my life, I was going through a lot personally, and it became this vessel for me to tuck myself into and physically work through some things that I needed to process in my body. The piece is so long and so intense, it puts you in a really vulnerable and raw state. It’s a very special and meditative state to exist in. You’re in front of an audience, but it feels private at the same time.
What do you expect to feel going back to it?
Watching footage of the first time I performed it, in 2020, I see a young woman trying to step into a new version of who she is. And every time I come back to it, it feels that way. Another really cool thing about returning to the work again and again is that I hear so much more in the score each time. And I feel I can bring so much more to it. There are details I never would have been able to explore if I hadn’t performed it all those times before.