Even with these similarities, dance and sports differ in stark ways. Some of the most notable involve funding and compensation. As dance reaches sport status at the most important multisport event in the world, a complicated question looms: Will the Olympics help dancers get paid like athletes?

Olympic athletes often make the bulk of their money through sponsorships, not from winning medals. Simone Biles, the most decorated gymnast of all time, was one of the highest-paid female athletes of 2023, making $7 million in sponsorships and $100,000 from her salary and winnings. But you don’t have to be the GOAT or star in commercials to cash in on the buzz: Athletes can commercialize their personal social media presence and get paid to promote products and services to their ballooning fanbase.

The 2024 Olympics could be a turning point for dancers who are accustomed to making a living performing and teaching. “It changes everything,” b-boy Alien Ness told The New York Times in October 2023. “Now it’s an Olympic gold medal. Now it’s a box of Wheaties. Now it’s your own Nike shoe. It’s everything that comes with that.” There’s technically nothing stopping dancers from using their social media followings for #SponCon—plenty do this already. But participating in the Olympics comes with cachet and exposure that can change the size of an athlete’s platform and make them a household name.

Breakers who were well-known in small circles of influence will suddenly have their faces splashed across screens all over the world. The Olympian-to-pop-culture-figure pipeline is real. After snowboarder Chloe Kim made her Olympic debut in 2018, for example, Corn Flakes put her on a special-edition box, Mattel designed a Barbie in her likeness, and Nike featured her in a commercial that premiered during the Oscars. That’s real money. Could super-charismatic breakers like Team USA’s Sunny Choi or Victor Montalvo see a similar boost?

Even televising dance is progress for an industry that, outside of reality competitions like “So You Think You Can Dance,” typically relies on live experiences to generate a profit. For the upcoming Summer Games, NBC will air eight hours of breaking, in addition to streaming medal events on its digital platform Peacock.

Olympic broadcast partnerships are the single greatest source of revenue for the Olympics. The 2020 Summer Olympics in Tokyo brought in more than $3 billion in broadcast revenue, a gargantuan number. If the Olympic breaking broadcasts successfully attract large audiences, that might pave the way for more—and more lucrative—dance onscreen.

Like dancers, athletes have short professional careers, but Olympic success can extend their shelf life: There’s a well-constructed off-ramp for Olympic athletes. The U.S. Olympic & Paralympic Committee, for example, provides resources to help prepare athletes for their careers post-Olympics, including tuition assistance for continuing education, professional development, financial literacy, and personal branding programs. That’s in addition to top-tier health insurance, access to sports medicine clinics, and mental health care.

These kinds of perks are major financial boosts for dancers, who are often self-employed and paying hundreds of dollars a month for health insurance. If we’re proudly proclaiming that dancers are athletes, they should be able to reap all the financial benefits that come along with it.

The post Will the Olympics Help Dancers Get Paid Like Athletes? appeared first on Dance Magazine.

“When I was at my worst with my anxiety, even just being in a dance class was quite an anxious thing for me,” Ungar says. “In trying to calm myself down and be present, there was not always much space left for me to remember what I was physically meant to be doing.”

Learning and retaining choreography and corrections can be challenging for any dancer. But certain mental health conditions—like anxiety, depression, ADHD, OCD, and PTSD, to name a few—can make it even more difficult to process and retrieve memories. Understanding how these conditions impact the brain, and finding ways to both address those changes and improve overall memory, can help dancers cope.

How Mental Health Affects Memory

The effects of mental health on memory might differ based on the nature of the mental health condition, according to Paula Thomson, a clinical psychologist who works with dancers and is a professor at California State University, Northridge.

Depression affects the prefrontal cortex of the brain, “which is very involved in memory processing and retrieval,” Thomson says. That can make the mind feel less sharp, as well as disrupt hunger and sleep cycles. Without proper nutrition and rest, a dancer will be even less equipped to function at maximum memory capacity.

Anxiety-related conditions often result in divided focus, which means a person is attending to both the task at hand and their experience of anxiety. “When people have an anxiety disorder, they feel the anxiety so acutely that they can’t trust themselves to learn, because they just are so anxious about the catastrophic ‘what ifs,’ ” Thomson explains.

Some dancers might also dissociate as a coping mechanism for very high anxiety. Dissociation refers to a state of disconnection where an individual feels somehow separated from the present moment or their sense of self. “The memory area of the brain, the hippocampus, kind of shutters on and off because the anxiety dosing is so high,” Thomson says, which can cause memory gaps.

Tools for Dancers

When mental health issues lead to memory troubles, “step one is to recognize and attend to self-care,” Thomson says. If the problem is relatively mild, there are some tactics you can practice on your own. To calm anxiety, Ungar recommends taking a series of steadying breaths, which can help regulate the nervous system, leading to a decrease in the physical symptoms of anxiety. Thomson also suggests starting each day with an internal scan to gauge your physical and mental wellness, so you can then implement self-regulation skills to help you feel more present. Examine things like your anxiety levels, emotions, and appetite.

“If it becomes a persistent problem, seek professional help,” Thomson says. Consider reaching out to a mental health professional with experience working with dancers, creatives, or athletes, who can provide advice and coping strategies tailored to you.

To help improve memory, Kathleen McGuire Gaines—a former dancer and the founder of Minding the Gap, an organization focused on mental health advocacy within the dance industry—recommends using visualization techniques. Mentally running through difficult choreographic sequences and picturing yourself mastering them, for example, can help cement those sequences in your memory. “There’s been a lot of research done on how effective visualization is and the way it connects your mind and your body,” she explains.

Ungar agrees, adding that listening to the music aided her visualization practice. “Just getting used to the music really helped me, when I was in those situations where my anxiety was high and I was more stressed, to rely on memory a bit more,” she says.

McGuire Gaines encourages dancers to ask questions if the choreography isn’t sinking in. Additionally, if you feel comfortable, be honest about your mental health with your teacher or artistic director. They might be able to help provide resources and other support.

Advice for Teachers

Dance educators, who work so closely with their students, are sometimes the first to recognize when a dancer might be struggling with mental health. They are also particularly well-positioned to support them.

Claire Munday, who owns the UK-based RISE Studios and Tappy Toes, recommends checking in with each of your students to gauge their general well-being. “If they’ve had a really awful day, my approach to how I teach them is very different, as opposed to if I know they are a 10 out of 10,” Munday explains.

Kathleen McGuire Gaines, a former dancer and the founder of Minding the Gap, also encourages teachers to keep an eye out for dancers who might be struggling with memory, especially if this is unusual for them.

“That is a sign that a person is experiencing distress,” she says. “They may not want to talk to you, but opening that door of ‘I see you and I noticed­ this and I care about you’ may give them an opportunity to either tell you what’s going on or to seek the support they need.”

The post How Anxiety and Depression Can Affect Your Ability to Learn Choreography appeared first on Dance Magazine.

You are doing so much these days. How, at this point in your career, do you choose which projects to take on?

First and foremost, does the project get me excited? Do I like the music or the people I’d be working with? Is it a medium I haven’t worked in before? The real problem is that I’m down for all of it. A lot of times I just do what comes up first, because I really love what I do.

For Awakening, the fabulous [producer/director] Baz Halpin is my good friend, and he invited me to rework the “Earth Section” of the show. When I saw the team that had already been assembled, I immediately said yes.

What was your approach to this big Vegas spectacle?

I watched the show before I went into rehearsal, and saw these humans in costumes that looked like trees. I thought it would be cool to create more of a structure and rework the staging so they could become a root system. I watched a lot of videos on YouTube about how trees move in the wind, and researched what trees do in both storms and sunlight so that I could picture shapes in my head. Then I tried to make a language of movement that matched. For example, a root system through the soil, or a branch shaking in the thunder—those analogies were really helpful. The dancers are a team of krumpers, lockers, and flexers who are hypermobile in their joints, so it was really cool to work with them and bring the vision to life.

How do you create a distinctive movement vision/vocabulary for each project you do?

A huge part of my job is researching and understanding the world I’m trying to create. A lot of time and effort goes into that. Is it a live performance? Is it televised? Is it a film? Is it in an intimate space? Is it vast? What are they wearing? It’s the who, what, where, when, and why. I have to be able to answer those questions before I create. If I can do that, I understand the lane we are in, and the work ends up being unique and the best it can be.

As an active member of the Choreographers Guild, what are your thoughts on the progress the group has made so far? And what are the most pressing issues that even well-established choreographers like yourself continue to face in the entertainment world?

There have been some big steps forward in terms of visibility. What comes along with that is the ability to have bigger meetings. We can go to SAG, or the press, or a studio and say, “Hey, this has come up for our community—are you willing to talk about it?” But there are many protections we still need—health, pension, residuals. We are at the start of the climb now that we are unified.

The post Choreographer Mandy Moore Brings Her Creative Vision to Vegas appeared first on Dance Magazine.

It’s all in pursuit of one goal: to win gold this summer, during the first time in history that the Olympic Games will feature a breaking competition.

Thirty-two dancers total—16 b-boys and 16 b-girls—will compete battle-style in Paris’ Place de la Concorde to sold-out crowds on August 9 and 10. Qualifying competitions have been going on since 2022, with the final two happening just this May and June. Choi and b-boy Victor Montalvo were the first to qualify for the U.S. breaking team. Last week, at the culmination of the qualifier series, another four dancers—Vicki “La Vix” Chang, Logan “Logistx” Edra, Jeffrey “Jeffro”­ Louis, and Miguel Angel Rosario Jr., aka “B-boy Gravity”—competed for the last two potential U.S. spots (one for a b-boy and one for a b-girl), with Edra and Louis ultimately earning them. 

The Olympic Games are by no means the first worldwide breaking event. But they do mark the first time that a breaking competition is being put on in a big way for the general public, not just the breaking community itself. 

That’s drawn its fair share of side-eye. Some people unfamiliar with breaking have questioned the idea of it being classified as a “sport.” And some in the breaking community worry that taking part in the Olympics will water down the culture. Dancers taking part, however, see it differently. “We’re always going to have our underground events, our local events for the community,” says Chang. “But this way, we can also show what we do to people who otherwise might not even know that it exists.” 

Or, as Edra puts it, “Sometimes we are seen more and sometimes we are seen less—it doesn’t change the way we are representing. It just adds to the type of motivation.”

Balancing Regimented Scoring and Artistic Freedom

Of course, some elements of a traditional battle have been tweaked in its translation for the Olympic stage. Most notable is the more regimented scoring. “In cultural breaking events, it’s based off of opinion—it’s super-subjective,” says Montalvo. But at Olympic competitions and qualifiers, there’s a structured points system. That rewards a slightly different strategy, Montalvo believes: “You have to be more explosive from beginning to end, getting straight to the point, doing big moves on the beat, ending off with a big freeze. And if you’re too complex, really being super-creative, I feel like you don’t get too far.” Because judges are ticking off particular boxes to tally the score, dancers need to be well-rounded, whereas, Louis says, in other competitions a breaker could just do one thing really well and win with that. 

Po Chun Chen, aka “Bojin,” head of the breaking division of the World DanceSport Federation (the organization helping to oversee breaking at the Olympics), acknowledges that it’s been a challenge to balance the sport and the culture in a dance form started by oppressed people looking for a way to freely express themselves. “We cannot lose the original soul of breaking, which is the freedom,” he says. One way in which the WDSF is attempting to honor the hip-hop roots of breaking at the Olympics is by starting out the competition with the judges showing off their own skills in a cypher as a way of celebrating the culture. Though the practice would be unthinkable in figure skating or gymnastics, “this is our culture,” says Chen. 

New Benefits and Growing Pains

Despite any debates over authenticity, one thing is clear: The Olympics are creating a high-performance support system for top-ranking breakers. The highest scorers from qualifying competitions are now part of Team USA, and have been flown to the Olympic facility in Colorado Springs a handful of times for training camps. They’ve been given strength and conditioning coaches, sports psychologists, dietitians, and health-care coverage. Some have also received grants, like the one from the Women’s Sports Foundation that Chang has used to rent studio space so she doesn’t have to dance outside. “There’s a lot of different resources that we, as breakers, have never seen before,” says Louis. 

That said, because breaking is brand-new to the Olympics, the infrastructure and monetary support lags far behind more established sports like rowing or swimming. “They’re being treated like the world’s greatest athletes. We’re being treated more like very talented dancers. That’s the disconnect right now,” says Ivan “Flipz” Velez, who will be the judge repre­senting North America in Paris. There’s reportedly been some scrambling involved as WDSF figures out the details of breaking becoming an Olympic sport. Dancers say they had to stay flexible and adapt quickly to changes as organizers decided exactly what the judging system would look like, how music would be handled, and what type of floor would be used. 

A Transformative Time

Many of breaking’s Olympic hopefuls have already seen their lives change dramatically. Montalvo shares that he’s had a slew of press requests and has sponsorship deals from major brands like Red Bull, Delta, Comcast, Jack in the Box, and Athletic Brewing. “There’s a lot of media that wants to know what breaking is all about,” he says. “This has been the busiest year of my life.” 

Choi says that juggling appearances and events along with corporate partnerships and media interviews has actually made it tricky to prepare the way she wants to. “It’s been really amazing but also challenging, because I know I need to be focusing on training for the Olympics,” she says. 

Even dancers who didn’t know whether they would qualify until June upended their lives for the possibility. Chang says she stopped working as a restoration ecologist to pursue breaking as a career. She now dances with her crew two to three hours a day, five days a week; cross-trains for an hour four days a week; does biweekly sessions with a sports therapist; and joins regional competitions for practice on some weekends. In addition to physical prep, Louis shares that he’s been studying his past competitions to analyze his strengths and weaknesses, dissecting videos of competitors, and watching footage from the 1980s to diversify his arsenal of movements.

The effort is worth it because these dancers’ dreams for the Olympics are about more than medals. Montalvo hopes the coverage will get a younger generation in the U.S. interested in breaking. Louis hopes it leads to more professional opportunities for breakers to make a living. And Velez hopes the Olympic spotlight gives breaking the same level of prestige as ballet.

“We’re flying as well, with the double air flares and multiple 1990s—and sometimes nobody trains us,” says Velez. “I want there to be this worldwide awakening to accept us as artists, not as ‘underground,’ these terms that suppress us and keep us from being seen in our biggest light. ’Cause this is the biggest light, the biggest stage we’re going to be on.”

A Longtime Dream Fulfilled

Insiders say that Choi, the first American b-girl to qualify for the Olympics, is a front-runner to medal at the Games. But for her, just the opportunity to compete marks a full-circle moment: When she was young, Choi was a serious, Olympic-track gymnast. 

“I used to draw pictures of me competing at the Olympics as a child,” she says. “To have this opportunity come back to me and to see it through, it’s really fulfilling and special. Little Sunny would be so proud of me.”

Breaking’s Olympic Future

Unfortunately, it’s already been announced that there will be no breaking competition at the 2028 Olympic Games in Los Angeles. “Come on, it was born in this country! How is it not going to come back to its motherland?” asks Velez. But a successful run in Paris could pave the way for the sport’s return at the Brisbane Olympics in 2032. 

“We’re using the example of baseball as our guide,” says Chen, head of the breaking division of the World DanceSport Federation. Baseball was left out of the Paris Games, but it will be back in the 2028 Olympics. 

The post Breaking New Ground: For the First Time in History, Dancers Are Competing at the Olympics appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Street-Shoe Style

Since most dance shoes aren’t particularly supportive, Cavaleri says wearing good shoes outside of the studio is essential. “One way to tell if a shoe is supportive is if it doesn’t have a lot of give when you try to bend or twist it,” she says. “With less bend, the shoe acts like a brace for your foot, and your little stabilizer muscles don’t have to work as hard while walking.” And a more rigid shoe gives the toe joints a break from all the motion required of them while dancing. 

Nelson also recommends lace-up rather than slip-on shoes. “This secures the shoe around your foot, so the two move as one,” Nelson says. “As your foot swells throughout the day, you can adjust the shoe to fit comfortably, which prevents bunions, blisters, plantar fasciitis, and calluses.”

Studio-Shoe Safety

There isn’t much we can do about how unsupportive most dance shoes are. (You can’t put orthotics in a ballet slipper.) Still, there are a few choices we can make that will help our feet stay healthy. Cavaleri advises crossing pointe shoe elastics at your ankle when you sew them for added support, for example. 

For musical theater, Cavaleri says boots provide more support than standard heels. “It’s almost like a built-in ankle sleeve,” she says. Wearing boots constantly, though, can have downsides. “It’s been published that high tops weaken ankle muscles,” Novella warns. “Anything that crosses the joint weakens the muscles at the joint.” If a show or role has you in boots for long stretches, make sure you’re cross-training and diversifying your footwear in class. 

Pre-Class Care

To warm up and prepare your feet for class, Cavaleri recommends what she calls “toe yoga.” “Set your foot flat on the ground and lift your big toe up,” she says. “Then, set the big toe down and lift your four little toes up. Repeat that motion 10 to 15 times.” She also encourages winging and sickling the ankles with a resistance band 10 to 20 times. 

Though warm-ups are important, Novella recommends tailoring them to your activity levels each day. “It’s tough for me to say, ‘Do exercises, then class, then rehearsal, then a performance,’ ” he says. “Those poor muscles only have a certain amount of stamina. You’re walking a tightrope. It’s good to be under the wing of a PT who has knowledge of that balance.” 

Pain Points

Blisters, corns, ingrown toenails: They may seem like occupational hazards for dancers, but there are ways to make them less miserable. 

If you’re prone to corns, Novella says to avoid solutions or corn pads that contain salicylic acid. “Using callus-dissolving solutions can cause really bad blisters, raw skin, and more pain than before,” he says. “Don’t put gel pads over corns. Instead, put things around the perimeter of the corn, like lambswool or moleskin, to ease the pressure on it.”

In a tragic turn of events for me, Novella says to avoid getting pedicures. “Cut your own nails,” he says. “If someone else cuts them too short, you’re looking at five months of ingrown toenails.” Beyond that, you might lose calluses that are essential for dancing. 

To prevent ingrown toenails, Novella says to cut the nails at the skin corner (not short of the skin corner) and round them with a nail file, while keeping the central part of the nail close to the quick. “Upkeep with an emery board on a 7-to-10-day interval,” he says. 

At the end of the day, if something about your feet feels off, Cavaleri recommends seeing a doctor, physical therapist, or athletic trainer right away. “We’re so used to our feet getting beat up that we let injuries linger, and an injury that would have lasted six weeks can turn into a six-month problem,” she says.


To see these tips in action, head over to Dance Magazine’s YouTube channel.

The post Dancer Diary: How to Protect Your Feet, Both In and Out of the Studio appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Company: Independent artist managed by Shannelle “Tali” Fergus

Age: 26

Hometown: Birmingham, England

Training: Urdang Academy

Origin story: “I was quite an athletic kid,” says West, who started with gymnastics and martial arts. “I watched all of the Jackie Chan films.” After b-boy Jovan Rumble came to West’s high school to guest-teach a Boys Dancing class, “he invited me to train with his crew, called Lab Rats, and, from there, I just fell in love with the energy of dancing itself.”

Turning point: In 2017, West had just booked Thriller Live, a long-running Michael Jackson revue on the West End. “I was excited about that, but my spirit wasn’t in it—it wasn’t my lane, it wasn’t my realm.” Without knowing that West was already committed to Thriller, Fergus saw West at an audition to perform with pop group Years & Years. “I was a huge fan of Tali’s when I came to London,” says West. “I watched all of her videos. I was obsessed, like, ‘Who is this human?’ ” Now West’s mentor and manager, she helped him get out of the Thriller contract so that he could join the Years & Years tour. “It was wild—a complete shift in my trajectory,” adds West. “Everything changed.”

Pressure cooker: Filming Jungle’s 50-minute visual album Volcano was a whirlwind. “We rehearsed for four or five days, got two days off, and then we shot 14 films in two days. But I love the thrill of being thrown into the deep end like that.”

West on Volcano choreographer Shay Latukolan: “When someone’s performing movement that genuinely feels good to do, it transcends the screen and the viewer gets to secondhand-feel that way, too. That’s the nature of Shay’s choreography.”

What his mentor sees: “I genuinely think that Will is a once-in-a-generation talent. He has a way of reaching past himself to people,” says Fergus. “That is true of him as a performer and a creative, but also as a human—and I think if he wasn’t inclined that way as a human it wouldn’t read in quite the same way.”

Finding his voice: Inspired in part by meeting Jungle’s J Lloyd and Volcano singer Lydia Kitto, West shares that “I’m looking for a vocal coach. The fact that I’m working on music is no secret.”

Wish list: West “would drop everything to work with some people” across the performing arts spectrum. “If you see Tyler, the Creator on the street, tell him I’m coming. I’d love to work with him—and with FKA twigs. Kojey Radical is incredible. Oh, and Daniel Caesar: That’s my guy. I listen to his music, like, every day. Jordan Ward is amazing. I want to be in a movie with Zendaya. LaKeith Stanfield.”

The post Get to Know Commercial Dancer Will West, a “Once-in-a-Generation-Talent” appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Fry, who left Ballet West in 2021 to focus on her luxury wedding cake business, Ballerina Baker, developed this cookie recipe to fill that gap. She frequently makes them at home with her two daughters, ages 1 and 3, and sends them to the theater with her husband, Ballet West principal Adrian Fry, during show weeks. “If you need that boost of energy before you go out onstage, these are a really good option,” she adds.

From Stage to Bakery

Long before Ballerina Baker was born in 2017, Fry was known at Ballet West for bringing baked goods to the studio for her colleagues to try. “Baking was always my therapy,” she says. “My way to destress from the high anxiety of the dance world.” What started as a way to monetize the work she was already doing—making wedding cakes for her friends, and friends of friends—is now a full-fledged business.

Fry only takes on 12 cakes a year—what she calls “edible works of art”—and flies them to weddings all over the country in a specialized box called a CakeSafe. This year she’s tackling her first two international projects, in Canada and Italy. “I feel like ballet is very similar to baking, where you are trying to achieve perfection, but you still have a lot of artistic freedom and voice within the boundaries of what is set for you,” she says. “I love that about both baking and ballet.”

Fry’s mentor, Maggie Austin, is a former Joffrey Ballet dancer who has made cakes for celebrities, royal weddings, President Obama’s White House Christmas party, and others. “She took me under her wing, and I started studying a lot from her on more intricate sugar work, sugar flowers, and just the artistry of cake decorating,” says Fry. “My brand now is very different from the brand when I started. It’s much more luxury-focused.”

Ingredients

• 1/2 cup unsalted grass-fed butter, ghee, or dairy-free alternative (“It doesn’t have to be grass-fed,” says Fry, “but it’s a bit more pure and has a higher unsaturated-fat content.” If taking the dairy-free route, Fry recommends Miyoko’s European-Style Plant Milk Butter.)
• 1/2 cup coconut-palm sugar (Fry prefers this white-sugar alternative—also called coconut sugar—because it’s less refined. She compares its molasses-forward, nutty flavor to that of brown sugar.)
• 1/4 cup pure maple syrup
• 2 large egg yolks
• 1 tsp pure vanilla extract
• 2 cups almond flour
• 1/2 cup arrowroot starch
• 1/4 tsp coarse sea salt, plus more for sprinkling on top of cookies (Fry loves using Maldon Sea Salt Flakes.)
• 2/3 cup semisweet chocolate chunks (If you’re concerned about gluten or dairy contamination, Fry recommends Enjoy Life brand for both types of chocolate in the cookies.)
• 1/3 cup dark chocolate chips

Instructions

1. Preheat the oven to 375˚ F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper or silicone baking mats.
2. To brown your butter (or butter alternative) on the stovetop, melt the butter in a saucepan over low heat, occasionally swirling the pan, and allow it to come to a simmer. Once the butter begins to smell nutty and turn light brown in color, remove from the heat.
3. In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat the browned butter and coconut palm sugar for 2–3 minutes, until smooth and light in color. (If you don’t have a stand mixer, Fry suggests using a hand mixer with the beater attachments.)
4. Add the maple syrup, egg yolks, and vanilla extract, and beat for another 2 minutes.
5. Add the almond flour, arrowroot starch, and 1/4 tsp sea salt, and beat until incorporated.
6. Turn the mixer down, and stir in the chocolate chunks and chips.
7. Using a tablespoon scoop or your hands, roll the cookie dough into roughly golf-ball–sized balls and place them on the baking sheets, leaving 2 inches of space in between.  
8. Bake for 9–10 minutes, or until the cookies are just starting to brown around the edges.
9. Remove the cookies from the oven and immediately sprinkle with the remaining sea salt, to taste. Let them cool on the baking sheets for 5 minutes, then transfer to a cooling rack.

The post Ballerina Baker Jordan Fry’s Grain-Free Chocolate Chip Cookies appeared first on Dance Magazine.

I dance because dance is home. Home as I have built it, home as it feels, and home where I find the people I love and who love me. Through dance I have tasted freedom, instinct, abandon, and trust. I have learned how to make mistakes, how to fail, how to collaborate, how to be disappointed, how to work hard, how to be proud of both myself and of others. This home has raised me and it has shaped the woman I am. I have found my voice. Dance has shown me that magic is real and this life we have is singular and spectacular.

From dancer to teacher to choreographer to stager to rehearsal director, my relationship to dance continues to evolve. Dance is woven into my being; it is how I see and traverse the world. I am dancing when I catch the train, when I hold your hand, when I am at my sewing machine, when I am grieving, crying, laughing, when the sun streams through the windows, and when the moon is full. I have learned through dance that everything matters, everyone matters, and everything is dancing with one another.

Even within the beauty and bliss, many times in my career I have lost myself. I have questioned, “Is this life in dance worth it?” “What am I giving up?” When these questions bubble up and begin to take over, I remind myself to return to where it all began. I return to the barre, I plié, and the reason why I dance comes to me. I am home. There is a pact embedded in the piano notes that we are in this together and that I belong here. To belong may be the greatest feeling in the world. More and more often these days, I am gaining opportunities to tell you, you belong here too.

The post Choreographer Ching Ching Wong on Finding a Home in Dance appeared first on Dance Magazine.

When addressed and managed, SI joint dysfunction is easily treatable. But when ignored, this condition can affect other structures in the body, potentially leading to more serious issues. “Your SI joint is your center of gravity, so you don’t want to ignore it for too long,” says Sylvie Le, a physical therapist and yoga instructor based in Rhode Island. “You will end up having pain down the kinetic chain, like in the lower back—even in the neck. There’s research that shows if there’s SI joint dysfunction, it can lead to jaw pain and headaches.”

What Is SI Joint Dysfunction?

The SI joints connect the sacrum (the triangular bone at the base of the spine) to the pelvis, providing stability and support to the spine while allowing for a small amount of movement. These joints don’t naturally have a large range of motion, and dysfunction can occur when they are moving either too much or not enough.

The SI joints play a key role in walking, running, and other similar motions, and dysfunction can also occur if one side is moving more than the other, or they are otherwise out of balance. “The SI joints might not be moving symmetrically, or they might be in a position in which they’re not neutral, or they might have shifted or rotated in one direction,” Le explains. “That can cause you to start overusing one hip and maybe underusing another. This can lead to poor load distribution up your spine.”

SI joint dysfunction can also manifest as pain and weakness in the groin/hip flexor area, snapping and popping in the SI joints (see sidebar), limping, pain while sitting, or a feeling of stiffness in the glutes and low back.

Causes and Treatment

Sigrist explains that SI joint dysfunction often can be the result of a weakness in the muscles that stabilize the joint, like the glutes, hip flexors, and abdominals. Less commonly, SI joint dysfunction can be caused by some form of blunt trauma—for example, if a dancer falls backwards and lands on their tailbone.

Strengthening the SI joint stabilizers can be an important aspect of recovery, and a physical therapist trained to work with dancers can offer specifically tailored recommendations. There are also common exercises to work into a warm-up, to help with mitigation and/or prevention (see sidebar). In addition to strengthening exercises, physical therapists might also do joint-mobilization work if stiffness is present. Use of stabilization tools, like tape or an SI joint belt, might also be recommended.

Sophie Lane, who co-founded Production Physiotherapy with Sigrist, cautions that dancers should be extra-aware of overstretching in the pelvic area. She emphasizes the importance of building strength and not pushing the body to its limit without the musculature to support it. “I like to see this area around your pelvis as your tree trunk, and your legs and your arms are your branches,” she explains. “If you build capacity and strength through the trunk, then that’s where we would like to see pain reducing and performance increasing.”

Pop, Pop

Sometimes dancers who are suffering from SI joint dysfunction may want to pop the joint for relief. But is this approach helpful or harmful? According to Sophie Lane, co-director of Production Physiotherapy, popping isn’t inherently bad, but it is usually a sign that an underlying condition needs to be addressed. “It won’t do any harm, but it will be short-term relief,” she explains, adding that the goal of working with a physical therapist is to move away from quick fixes towards establishing long-term solutions.

Strengthen and Support

Sylvie Le, MSPT, DPT, recommends the following exercises for strengthening the SI joint stabilizers:

Bird Dog: Start in a stable hands-and-knees position. Lift the right arm and left leg until they are parallel with the floor, without moving the trunk. Switch sides and repeat.

Glute Bridge: Start by lying on your back with your knees bent. Pushing through your feet and using your glutes, lift up into a bridge position.

Dead Bug: Start on your back with your legs in tabletop and your arms reaching towards the ceiling. Lower and straighten the left leg and right arm to 45 degrees,­ return to neutral, and repeat on the other side.

The post Pain in the Lower Back? Here’s Why You Shouldn’t Ignore It appeared first on Dance Magazine.

In his book The Map of Making Dances, the late Stuart Hodes wrote, “When you make a dance, you explore a landscape.” Part of the challenge of choreographing a short dance is establishing the landscape quickly. Where are we? Who is the person or persons dancing? What mood or mode are they in? The choreographer needs to get all that across in the blink of an eye.

How to do that? There is no foolproof method, but one option is to start the way artists start making anything: Try stuff out. Explore. Improvise. Janis Brenner, who teaches at Marymount Manhattan College and Steps Conservatory, advises, “You’re following your intuitive thread. Stay with your intention.” A particular landscape can be envisioned beforehand, or it can emerge while improvising.

The next stage is to pare down. Brenner puts it this way: “You distill your improvisational exploration down into essentials.” This requires having the discipline to dump the moves that are just about display. A short work will not be memorable if it’s just crammed with all the things the choreographer’s good at.

Does a short piece take less time to make than a long one? Sometimes. Michel Fokine spent only half an hour to make The Dying Swan for Anna Pavlova in 1905. The fact that they had danced together for years helped. He had a keen sense of her expressive abilities, so her dancing was already part of the landscape. With his clear image of a swan gliding on a lake, the dance almost made itself.

Of course, a dance can be so short as to be inconsequential. Going back to Hodes: “A complete dance may be short…but a dance that doesn’t take time to develop its ideas is too short.” The best ones create a sense of discovery while also knitting all the elements together—the landscape, the distillation of the exploration, and, of course, the power of the performer.

A good short work never overstates its point. Every move counts. The late Trisha Brown once said to me, while working on Watermotor, “I would go to the guillotine for every move.”

Masters of Brevity

Looking at the 20th century alone, there have been many iconic solos that are under eight minutes. Here are some
of my favorites.

Pizzicati (1916, about two minutes), aka The Shadow Dance, by Michio Ito, to music by Léo Delibes. A solitary figure, moving in a way that’s reminiscent of a puppet—or a dictator—projects a huge shadow. Ito’s biographer, Helen Caldwell, described it as having a “mystifying power.”

The Dying Swan (1905, just over three minutes), by Michel Fokine, to music by Camille Saint-Saëns. Fokine said of his iconic solo for Anna Pavlova, “This dance aims, not so much at the eyes of the spectator, but at his soul, at his emotions.”

The Stair Dance (c. 1918, about three minutes), by Bill Robinson. The tap dance legend developed this gem during his years in vaudeville. Elegant, relaxed, and upbeat, he ascends and descends a set of stairs, generating sounds like a clear, rippling brook.

Revolutionary Etude (c. 1923, about two and a half minutes), by Isadora Duncan, to music by Alexander Scriabin. Influenced by the Russian revolution, Duncan portrayed a woman warrior who gathers energy from the heavens and earth. Many Duncan dances are depicted as light and skippy, but this one brings out the fists.

Lamentation (1930, three and a half minutes), by Martha Graham, to music by Zoltán Kodály. “I wear a long tube of material to indicate the tragedy that obsesses the body,” Graham wrote in her autobiography, Blood Memory, “the ability to stretch inside your own skin, to witness and test the perimeters and boundaries of grief.”

Mourner’s Bench (1947, six minutes), by Talley Beatty, to the traditional spiritual “There Is a Balm in Gilead.” Inspired by Howard Fast’s historical novel Freedom Road, it features a dancer that cultural critic John Perpener describes as “an archetype of human suffering, perseverance, and ultimate nobility.”

Harmonica Breakdown (1938, three and a half minutes), by Jane Dudley, to music by Sonny Terry. Evoking the Dust Bowl calamity during the Depression, a woman strides with fierce determination in the face of grinding poverty and oppression.

Strange Fruit (1943, three minutes and 40 seconds), by Pearl Primus, to the poem of the same name by Lewis Allan, aka Abel Meeropol. As the protagonist leaves a lynching ground, “the horror of what she has seen grips her,” Primus said, “and she has to do a smooth, fast roll away from that burning flesh.”

Watermotor (1978, two and a half minutes), by Trisha Brown, no music. Although it is carefully choreographed, this solo captures the heady ride of free-wheeling improvisation, challenging the eye to see the initiation and follow-through of Brown’s intricate, elusive movement chains.

Little Ease (1985, under three minutes), by Elizabeth Streb, no music. The landscape is a small rectangular box that confines the dancer physically and psychologically. She stretches, pumps, knocks, and hurtles herself at its walls. Every move shows a fearless quest for freedom.

Caught (1982, six minutes), by David Parsons, to music by Robert Fripp. As Deborah Jowitt wrote, this solo “shows us, via meticulously timed flashes of strobe light, a dancer who can appear to fly.”

Slipstream (1985, three minutes), by Margie Gillis, to music by Johann Sebastian Bach. Gillis breathes along with Bach’s cello suite, expanding her lungs until­ she hits the high mark of the music. The effect is an ecstatic swirl of circling torso, trailing hair, and rising cello notes.

The post The Big Impact of Short-Form Choreography appeared first on Dance Magazine.

As I take some of the fitness classes, I realize how nice it is to see exercises demonstrated not just with proper workout form but also with pointed dancers’ feet and strong port de bras. Many of the newer workout videos feature both Gregson-Williams and Woodward, with one teaching and the other one taking the class while asking smart questions on form or commiserating over “the burn,” which helps me not feel so lonely on the other side of the screen.

Although the pair are hoping to attract everyday gym-goers who might want to take a beginner barre (their most popular video) from time to time, Woodward says the primary target audience is serious ballet dancers and students looking to complement their training, and former dancers interested in starting again. She hopes they take advantage not only of the ballet videos taught by world-class dancers but also the chance to cross-train effectively.

“Introducing Pilates and yoga into your practice is so crucial,” she says. “It’s been one of the biggest helps in my life, personally, for strengthening.”

Woodward adds that she hopes the fact that these videos live online—so you can take them without a mirror or other people nearby—turns them into a deeper mind–body experience: “I feel like this is a great way to go inward and see what you really feel in your body and what makes you feel best.”

The post I Tried Grace & Form, the New Ballet and Workout App by Pro Dancers appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Beyond the delicately winged foot that goes in and out of favor in ballet’s arabesque, performers may be asked to wing and/or sickle their feet as part of choreography. While winging (toes pointed outward) and sickling (toes pointed inward) involve relatively small ranges of motion, to execute them safely requires proper strength and an understanding of the anatomy of the foot and ankle.

Building a Foundation

Injuries can occur when a dancer puts weight on a winged or sickled foot, because it impacts the alignment of the ankle and can put undue strain on the ligaments and tendons. The ankle is supported by the strong deltoid ligament on the inside, and three weaker ligaments (the posterior and anterior talofibular and the calcaneofibular) on the outside, explains Dr. Tania Burinskas, a podiatrist and former dancer based in Maryland. Her husband and professional partner, foot and ankle surgeon Dr. Justin Lewis, says, “Those areas on the outside are more prone to damage, and [the injury can be] more catastrophic for a dancer than the deltoid ligament, which is usually pretty strong.”

Because of the risk of injury, it’s important to learn how to support winged and sickled foot positions through both strength and technique. Kelly Ashton Todd, who uses winged and sickled feet as artistic choices in her choreography, recommends first focusing on fundamental elements like turnout and foot articulation. “Having solid technique as a foundation is really important,” she says. “Working on turnout and arch support and going through the foot is an important place to start and get really grounded in, before you add sickles or wings.”

Burinskas encourages dancers to avoid overstretching the area, noting that this can often be a precursor to injury. “You’re going to stretch those tendons that are attached to the muscle, but then if you don’t subsequently strengthen them, you’re going to have a beautiful winged foot in the air, but your supporting foot is going to have those stretched tendons and might not have the strength for stability,” she explains.

Steady Steps

To support winged and sickled foot positions, Mullin emphasizes­ the importance of cross-training, encouraging dancers to strengthen their glutes. “Once you have that stability at the top of your leg, you gain so much more stability in the lower parts of your leg, too,” she says.

Lewis and Burinskas add that simple exercises like calf raises at the barre and balancing on demi-pointe are crucial for ankle stability as well. They also recommend a series of exercises­ with a TheraBand to bolster ankle strength (see below).

Mullin has found working with a BAPS (biomechanical ankle platform system) board to be helpful for her own ankle strength. She recommends standing on the device—which is similar to a BOSU ball, albeit much smaller—and moving the ankle in a circle, which helps by strengthening each supporting muscle. She also recommends a stability pad, which is a small, thick piece of foam. Standing on the stability pad, either on one leg or two, can help develop the intrinsic ankle stabilizer muscles. “Developing those little, finite bits of strength is really important as well,” she says.

Todd has found that rolling out the hips, psoas, and IT band has been crucial, because tightness in these areas can affect the kinetic chain and have impacts on the feet. She also uses therapy balls to roll out her feet after a long day of dancing for the same reason. “You have to be doing your physical therapy exercises, rolling out your feet, and strengthening your feet,” she says. “The longevity of a dancer is a forever process.”

Building Strength

Dr. Tania Burinskas, a podiatrist and former dancer, and Dr. Justin Lewis, a foot and ankle surgeon, recommend this exercise to build strength in the muscles that help with winging and sickling:

1. Place a looped or knotted TheraBand around your left foot and the other side of the TheraBand under your right foot.
2. Hold on to the non-looped portion of the band, adjusting tension as needed.
3. Resisting the pull of the TheraBand, wing the left foot, then bring it back to neutral.
4. Repeat with the other foot, and in both flexed and pointed positions.

The post Safety Tips for Winged and Sickled Feet appeared first on Dance Magazine.

But the past few years have seen a sea change in ballet, thanks to the persistent advocacy­ of dancers and their allies. Training and performing on pointe are now more widely available to all genders, in both major companies and freelance projects. The result is an expansion­ of the creative possibilities in ballet—and, for nonbinary dancers Maxfield Haynes, Zsilas Michael Hughes, and Leroy Mokgatle, a sense of fulfillment that is as personal as it is artistic.

A Fuller Range of Motion

A growing number of companies worldwide are hiring nonbinary dancers who desire, or prefer, to dance on pointe—and are supporting their authentic identities. When casting roles, the artistic staff at Staatsballett Berlin offers corps dancer Leroy Mokgatle options. “For neoclassical and classical, I would rather perform on pointe, on the feminine side,” says Mokgatle, whose debut as the fairy Coulante in last year’s run of The Sleeping Beauty has racked up more than 8,000 likes on Instagram. “Being nonbinary, we have periods of time when we see ourselves differently,” Mokgatle says. “With all the different repertoire that we have, I feel like I need to tap into different parts of myself.”

Since joining the Pacific Northwest Ballet corps in 2022, Zsilas Michael Hughes has amassed a repertoire that ranges from Crystal Pite’s The Seasons’ Canon to George Balanchine’s Allegro Brillante. Artistic director Peter Boal supported their interest in performing on pointe early on, and in their first season Hughes made their pointe debut as a Fairy in Balanchine’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

The Fairy’s lyrical choreography made it the right first role for Hughes, who has been dancing on pointe for less than two years. “The technique wasn’t my biggest concern,” they say. “It was the essence that the fairies possess—an effortless elegance. It’s work getting there.” As their technical skill advanced, Hughes was cast in Snow, Flowers, and the Peacock solo (PNB’s rendition of Coffee) in The Nutcracker, parts that have allowed them to express the feminine aspects of their identity.

Beauty From the Inside Out

All performing artists aim to put their true selves into their work, but ballet’s gendered roles make that more complicated for nonbinary dancers. “We are always cognizant of what hat we put on,” Hughes says. “It’s different than a cisgendered person, because as a nonbinary person you live in a constant state of your character that isn’t often portrayed onstage.”

Working on pointe can transform these artists’ sense of belonging in their art form and, by extension, in their own lives. Hughes and Maxfield Haynes, for example, perform regularly with Ballet22, a pioneering company based in Oakland, California, that presents straight and queer male, trans, and nonbinary dancers on pointe, in their true gender identities. “There’s never been a space for us all to come together and not have our work be a joke,” says Haynes, who was previously the Metropolitan Opera’s first nonbinary ballet soloist in its production of The Magic Flute.

When Hughes showed up for last summer’s Ballet22 rehearsals, “it took a minute to truly allow myself to believe that the people leading the company truly believed in me,” they say. Dancing the Golden Fairy variation from The Sleeping Beauty with the company felt transformative—because of the technical challenge, and because Ballet22 granted them freedom to interpret the role from their own point of view.

Though not all corners of ballet are as welcoming, evolving attitudes toward pointe shoes have already had a meaningful ripple effect. Now that more companies and artists are willing to see Haynes’ pointe work not as comic relief but as a serious, innovative endeavor, “I feel a general softening of my hard edges,” Haynes says. “Being socialized and trained as a male dancer, I was taught to push through. But that softening—tenderness, actually—with myself has been very transformative for my personal process. I’m noticing it in how I show up in relationships, how I show up with my family.”

Mokgatle echoes that sentiment. “I was trapped between my gender and what my spirit wants to do,” they say. Now, “I feel like I can use my body to its actual limits.”

Hughes has discovered a larger purpose through dancing on pointe and, in turn, thriving as an artist. “I’m one of the first dancers to truly know what it feels like to be immersed in themselves,” they say. “There are going to be some really tall, broad, muscular, gorgeous humans that want to be the Sugar Plum Fairy, and they’re going to have the opportunity to do so. This world is going to be so much more beautiful because me and people like me went through the pain—because we heard ‘no,’ but it didn’t stop us.”

New Perspectives on Partnering

Substantial experience dancing on pointe can be a partnering game-changer for dancers typically assigned to male roles: There’s nothing like literally putting yourself in your partner’s shoes. “To be an empathic partner, you need to understand what they’re going through,” says freelance dancer Maxfield Haynes. “It’s an understanding for minute adjustments, how much space you can open up for somebody. I don’t understand anymore how all men are not being trained on pointe.”

Pacific Northwest Ballet corps member Zsilas Michael Hughes, who frequently performs supporting roles in pas de deux, has gained a nuanced awareness of balance and alignment from dancing on pointe. “Most partners do not check the connection of head, shoulders, knees, and toes in relation to the pointe shoe—they’re mainly looking at the hips or the head placement,” they say. “I use all of those. Also, I know how to take off some of the pain where a bunion might be on their working side.”

Staatsballett Berlin corps dancer Leroy Mokgatle, on the other hand, rarely serves as the supporting partner and is often partnered on pointe in performance. “I’m trying to learn to trust my partner and rely on their strength, rather than always trying to help as much as possible,” they say. “I don’t want to lose the softer, more feminine side. This is the biggest challenge for me.”

If the Shoe Fits…

In response to the rising popularity of pointe work among male-identifying and nonbinary dancers, pointe shoe makers like Bloch, Freed, Gaynor Minden, and Nikolay are offering a greater range of foot sizes, widths, and customization options than ever before. But the shoe search can still be difficult. “You really have to invest the time in finding what shoe is right for you,” says freelance dancer Maxfield Haynes.

Staatsballett Berlin corps dancer Leroy Mokgatle’s wide feet require a more spacious box, but they also use a shoe crafted of stretch fabric rather than satin. The extra give helps them articulate through their feet in landings—a challenge for dancers who start pointe work in their late teens or 20s, when the foot bones are not as malleable as at age 11 or 12.

Pointe training resources, live classes, and tutorials geared toward male and nonbinary dancers abound online. Haynes recommends the 4Pointe Instagram page, which has released a video with specific guidance for nonbinary and male-identifying dancers on pointe.

For all of these dancers, starting from the beginning as already-accomplished professional dancers took patience. “The level of humility that comes with this is laughable,” says Hughes. “But if you go for it in the most knowledgeable way possible, it’s magical.”

The post Meet Three Nonbinary Ballet Dancers Performing On Pointe appeared first on Dance Magazine.

In Indian culture, cooking is deeply tied to hospitality, a tradition Bhargava works to share with Rovaco’s audiences. “For the longest time I had a fear of proudly claiming my identity, and a lot of it had to do with growing up in postcolonial India, where it was ingrained in people’s brains that Western culture is superior,” he says. “Now I’m trying to unlearn those tendencies and highlight aspects of my culture and identity in my work.”

For the past few years, he’s put on the Rovaco Dance Party, where guests are immersed in a five-sensory experience that includes Indian food and drink. While Bhargava emcees the event, dancer Ashmita Biswas takes on the cooking and each year finds a new way to put her own twist on Indian street-food delicacies, drawing on influences from her native Kolkata and her Bengali upbringing. “We feel that culture is best understood when it is experienced firsthand, as opposed to just watching it from afar,” says Bhargava. “We let them experience the beauty of it.”

Bhangra Bops

Bhargava likes to listen to upbeat music while he’s cooking. He has also recently started learning bhangra, a traditional Punjabi dance form, and has found himself drawn to Punjabi music, especially songs by Diljit Dosanjh, Garry Sandhu, and Jasmine Sandlas.

This recipe yields 8–10 pancakes.

Ingredients

• 1/2 small red onion, finely chopped
• 1/2 small plum tomato, finely chopped
• 2 cups besan flour (The Hindi word “besan” translates to gram or chickpea flour. You can find besan at Indian or specialty grocery stores, or on sites like Amazon.)
• 2 tsps red chili powder (Red chili powder, as opposed to chili powder, tends to be hotter and is customary in Indian cooking. If you can’t find it, Bhargava suggests substituting with 2 tsps of finely chopped fresh green chilies.)
• 2 tsps salt
• 1 tbsp crushed kasoori methi/dried fenugreek leaves (“These come in a box that lasts forever,” says Bhargava. If you can’t find them, you can substitute 1 tbsp of finely chopped fresh cilantro.)
• 1 1/2 to 2 cups water (Bhargava says that the exact amount depends on your desired consistency.)
• vegetable oil or cooking spray for the pan
• chutney, hot sauce, or ketchup

Instructions

1. Chop half a small red onion and half a small plum tomato, and set them aside.
2. Combine besan fl our, red chili powder (or green chilies), salt, and fenugreek leaves (or cilantro) in a large bowl.
3. Add water, starting with 1 1/2 cups and adding more if you prefer a thinner consistency, and whisk vigorously until the batter is smooth and frothy, with no lumps.
4. Mix in the chopped onions and tomatoes and stir to combine.
5. Place a skillet over a medium flame, and grease it well with oil or cooking spray. When the pan is hot, add a ladleful batter to the center. Using the back of the ladle, spread the batter until it thinly coats the pan.
6. Once the batter solidifies and the edges lift from the pan, usually after 90 seconds to 2 minutes, use a spatula to flip the pancake. Cook the other side for roughly 90 seconds, occasionally pressing down with the spatula so that the entire cheela cooks evenly.
7. Remove the cheela from the pan, and enjoy it hot. (They can get dry once cold, adds Bhargava.) Serve with a condiment such as chutney, hot sauce, or ketchup.

The post Rovaco Dance Company Founder Rohan Bhargava Shares His Savory Indian Breakfast Recipe appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Two key initiatives are already in progress to combat this: one by Dance/NYC, collecting data from dance industry workers, and the other by the Association of Performing Arts Professionals, to establish an information bank on salary ranges, compensation, and the like. While both are excellent, it’s crucial that more is done.

There is one immediate step with broad impact: real transparency throughout the dance economy. How can dance organizations do that? By making their annual tax returns available.

As Alan Harrison said in his excellent blog for ArtsJournal, “Yes, You Do Have to Show Your Nonprofit Tax Returns to Anyone Who Asks, No Matter What.” But, as I’ve discovered through my work at Dance Data Project, many dance companies respond to these requests with “We are too busy right now,” or even “You have no right to this information.”

To date, 19 of the largest 50 ballet companies in the U.S. have placed their most recent federal returns online. This is a great first step, one that other companies should implement as soon as possible. Those in dance leadership positions are also in dire need of basic education around their obligations to the community. In return for not paying taxes, a duty of disclosure is beyond expected—it’s mandated.

In 1969, reacting to multiple instances of self-dealing, inflated salaries, and undisclosed perks obtained by leadership, consultants, and board members, Congress enacted a series of reforms designed to shed daylight on operations of the not-for-profit sector. Today, by law, all 501(c)(3)s must provide any taxpayer, upon written request, with their most recent three years of annual returns (990s), within 30 days—or within 24 hours, if a member of the public makes this request in person. Note the immediacy expected of these not-for-profit organizations, underlining the social obligation for fiscal transparency at any point in time. Congress and the IRS also demonstrated how serious the issue is by making individual leaders, not just organizations, liable for penalties of up to $10,000 for failing to provide copies of an annual return.

Those in the dance workforce should equip themselves with an understanding of how to navigate 990s and the IRS website. Knowledge of pay practices, the importance of residuals, intellectual property rights, federal requirements on overtime, and salary information, as well as state mandates around leave and safe working conditions, should be taught and available to all. (DDP is planning a series of informational videos to begin to cover these topics.) Yet there’s a lingering sense of discomfort around a frank discussion of money and economics in an industry built by a generally underpaid workforce.

The pandemic threw these issues into yet starker relief. Coming out of shutdowns, while larger companies have seen robust attendance for perennial favorites like The Nutcracker, smaller productions with newer, more innovative voices are struggling. Overall, the audience for ballet dropped 37 percent between 2017 and 2022, and audiences for other dance forms dropped by almost half, per findings from National Endowment for the Arts.

DDP reports have shown that in the classical dance world, artistic and executive compensation has steadily risen as a percentage of budget. Within the largest 50 U.S. ballet companies, average artistic director compensation as a percentage of total budget increased from 1.59 percent in fiscal year 2018 to 2.50 percent in fiscal year 2022. The average percentage of executive director compensation compared to overall budgets increased from 1.38 percent in fiscal year 2018 to 2.44 percent in fiscal year 2022.

While their compensation grows, we see countless dance workers fighting for salaries that cover the cost of basic living expenses. No wonder we are seeing a rise in unionization efforts. It’s a failure of the industry that, in many cases, the only avenue for dancers seeking daylight on pay and benefits is to seek representation.

Elizabeth “Liza” Yntema is the founder and president of Dance Data Project.

The post Op-Ed: Why Financial Transparency Is Vital for the Dance Field’s Health appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Before rehearsals for the show began, some questions came to mind: Would being a trained dancer who strives to be respectful be enough to thrive in the rehearsal space? Were there elements of rehearsal etiquette I’d missed during my time off? I caught up with Jasperson as well as Los Angeles–based choreographer Galen Hooks to learn the unexpected do’s and don’ts of professional dance spaces. (And keep in mind that every choreographer has a different approach and set of expectations. If there’s one overall takeaway here, it’s that we should pay close attention to the unique preferences of the artists we work with.)

1. The performer–choreographer dynamic is not the same as a student–teacher hierarchy.

According to Hooks, the primary difference between the student–teacher hierarchy and the performer–choreographer dynamic is found in expectations. “A teacher is there to help you improve your skills as a dancer,” Hooks explains. “But as a professional, the choreographer is there to create on the skills you already have. They shouldn’t be helping you learn on the job. You should come with your tool belt fully sharpened, asking what you can do to help make their vision happen.”

2. But you can still make friends with the person at the front of the room.

“Many of the choreographers I’ve worked with create a friendly atmosphere that feels like we are comrades,” Jasperson says. Through that friendship, dancers can come to understand the personality of their choreographer, which can make them better able to capture and adapt to their vision. “That brings reliability to the performer–choreographer dynamic,” he says.

3. Be judicious with your questions.

When it comes to asking questions in rehearsal, both Jasperson and Hooks advise practicing patience. “Almost every question can be answered by watching,” Hooks says. “Do everything in your power to answer things on your own.”

While working with Andy Blankenbuehler as a performer on the creation of Hamilton, Jasperson discovered that asking too many questions during the creation process wasn’t necessarily productive. “Many choreographers are still working out exactly what they want, and they may not immediately know the answer to your question,” he says. “Andy would start moving and we would all follow. Just when I thought I had figured it out, he would shift it. It took time for it to all settle, and rather than asking ‘Do you want this or that?’ I would sit back, be patient, and move with him.”

Once the movement is defined, whether it’s appropriate to ask a question or not will be a matter of timing and preference for each choreographer. For example, if they’ve moved onto a new section, hold your questions. “Stay where their mind is,” Jasperson says. That said, when there’s a window of time between settled movement and new movement, Jasperson says he’s happy to make a few clarifications.

4. Read the room before giving input.

Choreographers’ thoughts on input vary widely. In order not to step on toes, Hooks recommends asking the choreographer their preferences on when and how dancers should speak up before rehearsals begin.

Hooks prefers that dancers rely on the choreographer’s assistant to address small issues, like errant traffic patterns. Jasperson is generally more open to suggestions. For example, in the final half-hour of our last rehearsal for HOTY, producers requested a major change to the music—a stressful moment. In response, we dancers got to work throwing out ideas for timing. “That was a great example of you guys being connected with me and what I was looking for,” Jasperson says. “We were all trying to reach the same goal, and I loved that you gave timing options that I could build on and make adjustments to.”

5. Stay present—and out of your head.

Hooks has seen many dancers get intimidated when working with big-name artists. “But more experienced dancers know that’s when they need to come alive,” she says. “Don’t be shy, or nervous, or timid.” And if the person in charge gives you a correction, remember that it’s an opportunity to improve, not a scolding. “Say ‘thank you’ for the note, then consider how you can take it and adjust what you’re doing to help make this thing work,” Hooks says. “It’s not a personal attack. Don’t withdraw.”   

6. Look the part.

We all know it’s important to be on time, but it can also be helpful to look camera-ready at rehearsal, especially on commercial projects. “I have seen choreographers be upset with how the dancers were presenting themselves in rehearsal,” Hooks says. “Cameras, the featured artist, or the director could walk in at any second.” Jasperson recommends dressing in a way that matches the vibe of the project—no pink tights for a hip-hop show, for example—to help the creative team get a better sense of how the finished product will look.

To hear more about how these tips benefited me in my recent rehearsal experience, head to Dance Magazine’s YouTube channel.

The post Dancer Diary: The Surprising Do’s and Don’ts of Rehearsal Etiquette appeared first on Dance Magazine.

What drew you to Coppélia, and how does this work relate to your other reimaginings of classical ballets?

In 2017, I was working on a dance-based project inspired by the artist Greer Lankton. She was a trans woman, and she made these really incredible dolls that were versions of herself and her friends. It made me think about Coppélia, and the power dynamics that existed between Dr. Coppélius and Coppélia. Within the context of ballet, I’ve also felt like a doll my whole life—I’d put on performance makeup and experience this dysphoria or disembodiment when I looked in the mirror. I began to properly research Coppélia’s history as a travesty ballet in 2021, and I was like, “Of course I have to do this!”

The same themes always come up when I look back at my work: intense suffering and pain often caused by relationships to expectations, which is deeply intertwined with ballet. There are often these central characters going through something, whether it’s death, transformation, or reclamation. But there is also always joy—it’s very important that there is joy as a way out.

What has the choreographic process for the show looked like?

I started with a lot of improvisations with the dancers moving each other’s limbs around. I want to play these push-and-pull games where we get into positions, almost like dolls, to see what it feels and looks like, and we go from there.

The dancers also learned a men’s variation of their choice as an exercise, and the show’s version of the mazurka was born from that. Creating that section felt like a full fantasy to me—we were playing together, figuring out how we could make it weird and doll-like. I channeled John Jasperse and Cunningham a bit, thinking about the physics of movement in a mathematical way.

What were some of the inspirations for the costumes and makeup?

Karen Boyer, our costume designer, created this incredible look for the show based on concepts, eras, and photographers I’d researched, including Claude Cahun, a French surrealist photographer from the 1910s and ’20s whose work explored their gender identity; lesbian salon culture in turn-of-the-century Paris; the Weimar Republic era in Berlin—just queer extravagance and theatricality on display.

What were some of the takeaways from your research process?

Diving into the world of travesty ballets was so affirming. To know that these performers—who were considered to be women (I’m not sure how they might identify now in the context of our current time)—had fans and power and were honored and celebrated. I’ve always been really into “RuPaul’s Drag Race,” and I drew these parallels to modern-day drag and how much people love it. My own experience with drag was especially formative. I had just stopped ballet and had this huge,180-degree moment as a freshman in college where I felt really powerful and able to tap into these qualities of strength and power through drag, and it let me step into these parts of myself that I’d never felt like I was allowed to be in before.

How do you make space for joy when there are so many other heavy feelings present in your work?

I think they really go hand in hand. To share traumatic things requires a certain amount of safety, connection, and support, but these feelings also yield a lot of joy. If something isn’t fun for me in the studio, I won’t want to go, so I try to find the things that provoke this feeling of life force.

At the end of the day, I want to allow the dancers to feel really checked into themselves. That’s ultimately what I want to project into the ballet world—dancing from a sense of connection and embodiment versus stress and disconnection.  

The post Ballez’ Katy Pyle Creates a <i>Coppélia</i> Rooted in Queer History appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Roh’s dancing, whether onstage or on the court, radiates with sincerity and effervescence. She has tried everything from commercial jobs abroad (“Destiny,” MGM Cotai resort’s resident show in Macau), to backup dancing for Kylie Minogue, to dancing with Jessica Chen’s J CHEN PROJECT and Nai-Ni Chen Dance Company in New York City. Her Brooklynettes experience has been fulfilling in new ways: “To be part of the environment that’s been established by our coaches has been such a blessing,” she says. “From the moment I auditioned, I knew I was in good hands.”

At the Helm
“As a co-captain for the Brooklynettes, I try to both give myself grace and hold myself accountable. In this role, it’s important to develop one-on-one relationships with the dancers. I’m even taking a leadership coaching course, in order to consistently show up as my best self and help lead this group of amazing women.”

A Second Act
“Once I’m at an age where my body is no longer able to physically perform, I’d love to dive into dance therapy. My younger brother is on the spectrum and I’ve seen how movement is so innate to him. We’ve gone to BTS concerts together, and music fills his body—his smile in those moments is unreal. I’ve seen how powerful music and dance can be no matter if someone is neurodivergent or neurotypical, and I really want to explore that one day to help different communities.”

New Perspectives
“Pursuing a BFA in dance at NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts challenged the ways I approach dance. In addition to many genres of dance, the program offered anatomy classes and music theory—courses that supplemented my dance education and helped me to become a well-rounded artist. It set me up for success.”

The post Step Onto the Court with Brooklynettes Co-Captain Hayoung Roh appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Ubeda’s performance snagged one of those Chita nominations; another went to Rachel Lockhart, making her Broadway debut as Morgan after joining the show before its January run at the Chicago Shakespeare Theater and its sold-out stop at New York City’s Park Avenue Armory in March.

Despite the differences in their backgrounds—he’s the first artist in his Miami family, she started training “fresh out of the womb” in her mother’s Birmingham dance studio—and their career tracks—his began in a Broadway ensemble, she’d always expected to join a company—they talk about Illinoise in similar terms. He sees his younger self in the role of Henry, “a young queer man who is coming of age,” and she finds echoes of her own questions about ancestry and identity in Morgan’s searching solo to “Jacksonville.”

Peck’s history is reflected in the show as well. “Most people know me from ballet,” he says. “But I really got my start from musicals.” Inspired by regular family trips to New York City to see shows (Bring in ’da Noise, Bring in ’da Funk was the standout), he was a tap dancer for years before “broadening out.” “Ballet came last,” he says, and when he began choreographing, he “was always a little bit restless about staying in one particular lane.”

With its wide-ranging styles and stories, both on and off the stage, Illinoise travels in multiple lanes that crisscross in surprising (and unsurprising) ways. Tyrone Reese, one of the understudies, was a year behind Lockhart at the Alabama School of Fine Arts and followed her to Juilliard; Lockhart didn’t know cast member Kara Chan, but soon discovered she was also a Juilliard alum. Ubeda and Gaby Diaz have known each other since they were 10, and Ubeda and Ahmad Simmons, who plays his lover in Illinoise, have done four Broadway shows together. Lockhart and Byron Tittle, whose tapping augments her “Jacksonville” number, have both danced with Doja Cat. And Ubeda, Diaz, and Lockhart were also memorable contestants on “So You Think You Can Dance”; Ubeda won Season 11.

Among Ubeda’s “SYTYCD” prizes was a contract for On the Town. He’d never seen a show, much less envisioned a Broadway career. “I had to learn it in three days,” he recalls. He credits that experience for the “sense of community” Lockhart says she felt when she first walked into an Illinoise rehearsal. “What we do onstage has to do with a group of friends who are warm with each other,” Ubeda says. “And we’ve all been in those shoes, where we are the youngest and newest person. At On the Town, they made me feel so at home. We all make it a point to make sure newcomers have what they need to succeed, and with these, it wasn’t hard—they bring something new to our campfire.” And to the ecosystem.

The post Inside the Creation of <i>Illinoise</i>’s Onstage—and Offstage—Community appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Tell us about what drew you to teaching and your early experience. 

I started training at age 10 with Mr. Mitchell at DTH, and I saw how he had a way of getting whatever he needed out of a dancer. He knew exactly what to say. I was so fascinated by that, and it drew me to wanting to be in the front of the room. I started teaching at Lula Washington Dance Theatre, and then did the Central Pennsylvania Youth Ballet teacher training that summer, 2013. I was on CPYB’s summer faculty from 2018–22, and I also taught for Ballet Academy East. I’ve taken every opportunity I could to teach, like giving community master classes while on tour with DTH. 

What was your exposure to SAB and NYCB as a young dancer?

Growing up at DTH, I thought ballet was for Black people. But then I learned why Mr. Mitchell was famous, and why what he had achieved was so incredible. But I didn’t think those institutions were for me, although I did later audition for SAB twice. 

What was your journey to becoming an SAB permanent faculty member?

Participating in the National Visiting Fellows program was eye-opening. Seeing Katrina [Killian, Children’s Program manager who guides the Fellows] on the floor just so carefully shaping a child’s foot, seeing the pedagogical through-line from Level I to the most advanced, and to the company—it gave me so much respect for the organization. I’d also been worried about how welcome I’d feel, but everyone was so nice to me. 

I stayed in touch with the school when I returned to New York to rejoin DTH the following year, but I was still shocked when Jon [Stafford] called to offer me the teaching apprentice position. He had asked Virginia [Johnson, then DTH artistic director] for permission first because I’d still be dancing for her. That showed respect for DTH and the character of someone I wanted to work for. 

It was good timing that I was ready to retire from DTH when a permanent position opened at SAB. I’d learned so much during my two years as an apprentice, I felt blessed to be able to keep going. 

How do you bring your background into your teaching?

I’m very proud of my career and I love sharing it with the students. Growing up a churchgoer taught me that people are moved by your testimony. Mr. Mitchell used to tell stories about his career, including Balanchine. Talking about NYCB will never be what I have to give, but I have another story to tell them. Sharing my experience with DTH and Mr. Mitchell, and other companies, expands their view of what a career can be. 

What’s most enjoyable to you about teaching at SAB?

It’s a team effort. We talk to each other about where we are in the syllabus; if the students needed more time on a certain thing and I didn’t get to something else, I can pass that on to the next teacher, and we get the kids there together. 

What does the state of diversity efforts in ballet look like to you?

I’m very proud to be Black, but I’ve certainly faced racism in my career outside DTH—just as Mr. Mitchell warned me. So I’m proud to show that programs with diversity in mind are successful and important. If SAB wasn’t living its diversity commitment, I wouldn’t be here. I talk a lot at the school about my ideas for outreach and relating to students with backgrounds like mine. Change can take time, but it’s coming. Look where I am! God is good. The future is bright. 

The post Christopher Charles McDaniel Blazes His Own Path at SAB appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Likes included musings on the profession, such as “the girl who learns to lead as well as follow” (ballroom dancer and teacher Arthur Murray) and “dancers who make it their business to know the history and background of the dance” (ballet dancer and teacher Leon Fokine, nephew of Michel), and tongue-in-cheek commentary, like “a place to spot while doing a set of pirouettes in performance” (American ballerina Karen Conrad) and “audiences of any kind anywhere—they’re the customers so they must be right!” (musical theater duo Grace and Paul Hartman).

As to dislikes: “people who apologize for their dancing and do nothing to correct it” (Murray), “posing for pictures” (Conrad), “American choreography!—except Catherine Littlefield’s” (Fokine), and “people who don’t like dogs” and “gowns that tear and the guy who invented hoop skirts” (the Hartmans).

But perhaps most striking were modern dance matriarch Martha Graham’s responses. She gave thumbs-up to “a dance form which has its roots in the lives, customs, traditions and interests of one’s own people,” “good theatre,” “expert dancing of any type,” “cleanness of line and economy of movement,” and “dancers who have an awareness of today.” On the thumbs-down side: “pretentiousness and artiness,” “any attempt to justify poor dancing by an idea, no matter how good the idea might be,” “those who do not recognize the need of a good technical base for the dancer,” “the dancing of slogans which might be displayed to better effect on banners!” and “self-expressionism.” 

The post TBT: Martha Graham, Arthur Murray, and More Share Their Pet Peeves, 1939 appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Bachelor of fine arts dance programs, whether housed in a conservatory or larger university setting, tend to give out letter grades like any other academic degree. But rather than exams and essays, the studio classes that make up the bulk of BFA programs are evaluating students on less tangible benchmarks like artistry, technique, and performance. How much weight are BFA programs really putting on grading—and how much do students’ grades matter during, and after, their time in college?

Progress Over Perfection

Individual dance programs and teachers all have different approaches to grading. Some schools use a pass/fail system, but most employ traditional letter grades. At Florida State University, the rubric for a technique class “can include everything from attendance to looking for improvement, how they are engaging with their artistry, and their technical skills and risk-taking,” says Anjali Austin, the department chair of FSU’s School of Dance. “Everybody improves, but they may be improving at a different rate.”

This holistic view of a dancer’s growth is common in BFA programs, and is a welcome change for some students. “My arts high school had a giant spreadsheet, and they would rate us one through four for turnout and feet,” says Lauren Ciccolini, a senior in George Mason University’s dance BFA program who is minoring in public policy and management. “Coming here, it’s like everyone has a different starting point and a different ending point, and is graded on it. I super appreciate that.”

With less work expected outside of class, attendance tends to play an outsized role in dance grading. “At Juilliard, if I had more than three absences, then my grade would go down a letter,” says Hicks. With so much focus on participation, schools try to accommodate injuries. At FSU, injured dancers spend some or all of the class period in the department’s conditioning studio, rehabbing with a trainer. “It’s almost like we have to switch the course to support the student during the injury period,” adds Austin.

Grades After Graduation

Despite dance departments’ attempts to make their grading policies fair, many students who plan to pursue a performance career enter college with the attitude that their grades don’t matter, especially when it comes to required classes outside of the studio. “I am the definition of someone who was just trying to coast in academics and thrive in dance,” says Hicks. “I didn’t understand why I had to be graded hard on things that I wasn’t going to use in life.”

One answer to that question is scholarships. At FSU, Austin says, eligibility for funding opportunities for students depends on their academic standing. “I love to learn, and I love doing my schoolwork, and then I also need these good grades and a good GPA so I can get more money to go to school,” says Ciccolini, who purposely included schools that offered both dance and academic scholarships in her college search.

Students should also consider their career goals for immediately­ after graduation and down the road. “If they’re thinking about an MFA or other graduate school, then grades are important,” says Austin. FSU offers dance students in their junior year an option to apply into an accelerated master’s program, which grants them both a BFA and an MA in just five years. “By the time they’re sophomores, if that’s in the back of their mind, they’re already thinking about their grades needing to be at a certain level to be accepted,” says Austin. Ciccolini hopes to join a company after graduation, but is still conscious of her transcript, knowing that she might someday want to go back to school for public policy.

Hicks, who holds an MFA in choreography from California Institute of the Arts, doesn’t believe that her undergraduate transcript played much of a role in the admissions process. “It’s a very, very creative school, so it’s an extreme situation,” she says. “But they were focused on an essay about my work and videos of my pieces.” CalArts’ MFA program is entirely pass/fail, which freed Hicks up to focus solely on her creative development. Now that she has guest-taught in university programs—and dreaded being on the other side of the grading process—she wishes all dance programs would consider pass/fail for some classes. “We should only grade on work ethic, and take out the talent aspect of it,” she says. “For me as a learner, and an educator, taking out grades feels more inclusive and open and inspiring. Which are all the things I think art school should be.”

The post Do Grades in BFA Programs Really Matter? appeared first on Dance Magazine.

How did you decide to bring this group of guests onboard?

Alan Cumming has been a longtime friend of the company, and of Paul, as well. I asked him if he’d be willing to play Paul Taylor, and he jumped at the opportunity. He’s going to make Paul’s voice come alive.

In 1957, Paul had just graduated from Juilliard, and then in 1959, he was a guest artist at New York City Ballet. We’re bringing back these excerpts that are very of a specific moment, so we wanted to acknowledge the community of artists that were all collaborating together at that time. Adrian represents New York City Ballet, and Damian and Alicia represent Juilliard. They’re all great friends in the industry, and it’s an acknowledgement that these institutions still do have close relationships.

Why is it important to you to revive Seven New Dances?

It’s really important that audiences understand that artists are multifaceted, and they grow and evolve and try things. And there’s an investment that needs to be made in an artist’s life and in their career and where they’re going. It’s beautiful to see this process of all the drafts that have to get created for a genius to truly emerge and find themselves. I hope audiences of all ages get to ask themselves questions about what dance is, and where dance is going now.

When Seven New Dances premiered, some asked whether it could even be considered dance. Having spent time reconstructing this work, do you consider it to be dance?

They’re one hundred percent dance. Watching them in the studio feels rebellious even now. The boldness that it took for Paul to create the duet Alicia and Damian are going to perform, that was inspired by John Cage’s 4’33”: The curtain goes up, two dancers are onstage in a pose, nothing happens, and then the curtain comes down. The only thing that happens is that we as viewers are confronted with myriad thoughts, feelings, ideas, questions. It feels very radical to me. What makes it all the more powerful, if my plan works, is that when you see those same [pedestrian] movements to Bach music in Esplanade, it will hopefully make people see Paul’s work in a new way.

The post The Paul Taylor Dance Company Revisits Its Radical Roots in a One-Night-Only Performance appeared first on Dance Magazine.

“By no means did it happen overnight,” he says. “It took years and years of hard work.”

That hard work is evident throughout Hanagami’s online presence, but especially on his phenomenally popular YouTube channel. Hanagami has harnessed the platform’s power in a singularly savvy way—and in doing so, has gained not just millions of fans but also a devoted inner circle of colleagues and collaborators.

An Unexpected Beginning

A career in dance wasn’t on Hanagami’s radar growing up. “I didn’t even know what a choreographer was,” he remembers. During his freshman year as a psychology and economics major at the University of California, Berkeley, Hanagami auditioned for the school’s hip-hop team for fun. Thanks to his innate musicality and sense of rhythm, he ended up making the cut. 

What started as a casual commitment soon turned into something more serious: “I fell in love with it,” he says. Hanagami returned to his native Los Angeles in 2010, built up his YouTube channel, and leaned into all opportunities that came his way, including dancing for the Black Eyed Peas and choreographing for “The X Factor.” “There was no roadmap back then,” he says. “I had to learn how to navigate a rapidly changing dance landscape.”

Leveling Up 

Hanagami quickly established himself as a choreographic force. His distinct movement vocabulary, abundant with musical flourishes and syncopation, drew dancers in droves to his classes at Millennium Dance Complex and Movement Lifestyle in Los Angeles. His sleekly edited YouTube content—which, early on, included not just choreography videos but also a look into the life of a professional dance artist—even caught the eye of a number of directors and actors, many of whom reached out to pursue collaborations. “YouTube has been instrumental to my career and cross-pollinating different parts of my professional life,” Hanagami says. 

Eventually he was choreographing for stars like Jennifer Lopez and productions including “Dancing with the Stars.” While the projects kept coming, Hanagami was eager for a different type of challenge. “I often came in halfway through a musician’s career, so I didn’t have an impact on who they were as an artist,” he says. “I really wanted to be involved from the beginning.”

Enter BLACKPINK, widely considered the most successful girl group in K-pop. BLACKPINK tapped Hanagami as their choreographer in 2016—a time when “they hadn’t even released a song,” he says. He’s worked with the group ever since, choreographing music videos that have been viewed by billions of people around the globe. “It’s been really- gratifying to see how far they’ve come, and also see the impact my choreography has had on shaping their overall vision,” he says.

In 2023, Hanagami signed onto Mean Girls, the movie musical adaptation of the Broadway production, both based on Tina Fey’s hit comedy from 2004. Putting a fresh spin on a beloved classic “really forced me to think outside of the box,” Hanagami says. “It was such a creative challenge and took my career in a direction I didn’t think was possible.” That direction? A credit line as a second unit director (he led a secondary camera and crew during filming)—and, as a result, admission to the Directors Guild of America.

People First, Dancers Second

The throughline in Hanagami’s extensive resumé is his ability to understand people. “Even in fast-paced, high-pressure circumstances, I love working with Kyle,” says actress Ashley Park, who originated the role of Gretchen in Mean Girls on Broadway and has worked with Hanagami on a Skechers campaign, as well as one of his viral videos. “He is a natural director and visionary when it comes to prioritizing storytelling, while elevating the spirits of everyone involved.”

Before exploring the choreography, Hanagami likes to explore the artist’s personality. “I want to know their strengths and their weaknesses,” he says. “All of this helps me make a connection before we work together in a professional setting.”

A Potential Pivot

As his career continues to boom, Hanagami has his sights set on a future in the director’s chair. “Directing feels like the next frontier for me,” he says. As an experienced video editor (thanks to all those years on YouTube), a newly minted member of the DGA, and a mentee of the choreographer-directors Adam Shankman and Kenny Ortega, Hanagami is well positioned to make a splash in the film industry.

But choreography won’t necessarily take a backseat. “I’ll still work on projects that touch dance in some way,” he says. That includes choreographing for the current season of “So You Think You Can Dance.” 

“Everything I’ve done up until this point—from my video-editing experience to my love for psychology—has prepared me for this,” Hanagami says. “I feel more than ready.”

The Company He Keeps

“If I were to give one piece of advice to someone in the entertainment industry, it’d be to surround yourself with good people,” Hanagami says. Charlize Glass, a professional dancer who worked with Hanagami on Mean Girls and has taken his classes for 13 years, says he lives by that advice himself. “Kyle creates an environment that is unlike anything else, largely because of the assistants around him,” Glass says. “It makes the work so much more enjoyable.”

One of those people is Hanagami’s close friend and collaborator, Haley Fitzgerald. Fitzgerald first crossed paths with Hanagami more than a decade ago and has been a fixture in his social media content and professional projects. “Collaborating with Kyle is like piecing a puzzle together—the combination of his technical eye and my dancing works really nicely,” she says.

Hanagami refers to Fitzgerald as his “right hand.” “I just like her as a human, and I want to be around her,” he says. “When you gel with someone like that, it makes the work better.”

Always Advocating

A prolific creator, Hanagami is a vocal proponent of choreographic copyright. He has secured copyrights for nearly all of his choreographic work, and recently pursued his own lawsuit against Epic Games and the video game Fortnite, in which he claimed that the company stole his copyrighted moves.

“I’m so passionate about this because choreographers are often women, or come from marginalized communities, or are people of color—systemically, it’s almost a given that they’ll be taken advantage of,” he says. “I’m lucky enough to be in a position where I can hold other parties accountable.”

Hanagami brings that same passion for advocacy to his work as a vice president of the Choreographers Guild, the labor union for choreographers in the entertainment industry. At the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, he remembers Zoom meetings where it became clear that he and his Guild colleagues were all facing similar problems within the industry. “As choreographers, we rarely work on projects together. We’re usually on our own island,” he says. “But through our conversations, we’ve been able to establish what choreographers want and deserve, and how to get there.”

The post Kyle Hanagami, A Viral Sensation Across Multiple Forms of Media, Has Built a Dance Empire From the Ground Up appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Company: Pacific Northwest Ballet

Age: 20

Hometown: Atlanta, Georgia

Training: Debbie Allen Dance Academy, Colburn School, Pacific Northwest Ballet Professional Division

On her own: At 9, Wimpye relocated to Los Angeles, with mom in tow, to train at the Debbie Allen Dance Academy. By 13, she was on her own at the Colburn School. “I think that helped me to mature, both mentally and emotionally. I gained the independence and strength that I need to succeed in this industry,” she says.

Connecting with audiences: Wimpye has carved out time for high-profile gigs, appearing as a solo dancer on TV for a Mariah Carey holiday special, dancing for Michelle Obama at the White House, starring in an Hourglass Cosmetics campaign opposite Twyla Tharp, and acting in a principal role on the hit show “This Is Us.” The professional credits add to her artistry. “For me, a huge part of dance is telling a story, not just with your body but also emoting with your face—acting’s helped with that,” she says. “But onstage, I just let loose and enjoy myself.”

Growth and giving back: “I’ve been through big ups and downs in my life, but my mom has made sure that I was surrounded by great mentors.” Joining Brown Girls Do Ballet gave Wimpye support. “For 10 years, it’s allowed me to have Black and brown professional ballerinas as mentors—ballerinas that looked like me. Now, I’m a mentor myself­ and it’s still just as rewarding.”

What her director is saying: Still in her first season as a full company member, “Destiny can easily be picked out of the corps de ballet for her singular presence and clean technique,” says PNB artistic director Peter Boal, “and she’s starting to take on more featured roles,” including Swan Lake’s Neapolitan Dance in February. “I often refer to ‘that thing you can’t teach,’ and Destiny has it. It’s engagement, presence, and joy that jumps over the footlights. It’s evident the moment she steps onstage.”

Memorable performance: Dancing with PNB in the finale of Balanchine’s “Diamonds” as a student in the Professional Division. “I had learned a few months earlier that I was being hired,” she says. “I got thrown in at the last minute for that performance. It felt like the start of my career and I had the realization that I was living out my dream!”

Free time: “I love to have relaxing days at home with my puppy, and traveling and exploring Washington,” says Wimpye. Her favorite TV show? “The Office.”

Career goals: “I feel really grateful because I can see the efforts being made to make the organization more diverse and inclusive,” says Wimpye, whose goals include dancing in the works of Balanchine, William Forsythe, and Crystal Pite, and even on Broadway—“I’m a huge fan of musicals,” she says. “But my biggest goal is becoming a principal dancer.”

The post Meet Pacific Northwest Ballet’s Destiny Wimpye appeared first on Dance Magazine.

After her boyfriend’s death several years later, she wasn’t able to find the same catharsis in dance, however. Landreau decided to leave the company and make a cross-country move to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, where she currently teaches at Dancers’ Workshop and dances in its ensemble. “I’m still dancing, but unfortunately that loss has hurt me so much that my priorities have completely changed,” she says.

Moving Through Grief

Navigating the death of a friend, relative, or partner is a profoundly emotional experience. Because grief also impacts the body on a physical level, the unique demands of a dance career can add additional challenges. “The way the body responds is such a huge part of dancers’ jobs,” says Olga Gonithellis, the founder of Creativity Mental Health Counseling, a New York City–based mental health practice that works with artists, performers, and other creatives. “Grief has physical symptoms that are wide-ranging.”

Gonithellis explains that grief can result in feelings of increased fatigue or flu-like symptoms and can also impact motiva­tion, concentration, and memory. Loss that is unexpected and/or involves some form of trauma can result in an additional set of symptoms, such as dissociation, in which the “body and brain may feel kind of fragmented,” says Gonithellis. Feelings of anxiety, depression, and panic may also arise.

For dancers, the mental, emotional, and physical toll that grief takes on the body can present challenges in the studio and onstage. “You expect your body to be able to do certain things,” says Gonithellis. “After years and years of training, the body is supposed to know how to move a certain way and perform under pressure. That can be disrupted in the brain, particularly when it’s forced to have a fight-or-flight response to traumatic loss.”

For some artists, grief can provide a surge of creativity, offering­ an outlet for expressing challenging and complex emotions. After losing her mother to cancer, Lucy Jane Doherty, an Australi­a-­based­ dance artist, channeled the experience into her Dancing for Jane project, a series of four dance films made in her mother’s memory. “Right after losing my mom, I actually felt a surge of energy,” Doherty remembers. “That was creative energy—that’s where I channeled it.”

Coping and Healing

Grieving is a deeply personal experience that impacts everyone differently, which means that the most effective tools for coping and healing are also very individual. Gonithellis suggests seeking a grief therapist with experience treating dancers or athletes, as they are often better able to understand the intricacies of navigating grief in conjunction with a dance career. She also encourages dancers to expand their network, possibly through joining a grief support group in the local community. If dancing or choreographing aren’t providing an effective creative outlet, Gonithellis encourages dancers to explore a different medium. Writing can be particularly helpful, she says, adding that keeping a journal is a great place to start.

Both Landreau and Doherty emphasize the importance of allowing ample time and space for grief and prioritizing self-care in the aftermath of a loss. Landreau treated her body as though she were nursing an injury, and focused on basic needs, like food, water, and sleep. “Those very simple things really helped my mental health to rebuild itself and my body to heal, so that I could stretch, get stronger and eventually dance again,” she says.

Doherty agrees that, when grappling with a loss, taking a step back from dance, work, and other responsibilities can also be an important step for healing. “It’s okay to just stop and do small things that nurture you,” she says. “Don’t have any big goals, you don’t have to do anything drastic. Just be in that stillness and be with that grief.”

Resources

Olga Gonithellis, Charlotte Landreau, and Lucy Jane Doherty recommend the following resources for dancers who are grieving:

Online

• Vitas Healthcare grief support groups: Choose from a variety of virtual, specialized grief support groups.
• Pathways Center for Grief and Loss Adult Support: Through this Pennsylvania-based facility, get information about a variety of virtual and in-person grief resources and support groups, plus connect with a grief counselor.
• Good Mourning: A podcast about grief

Books

• Bearing the Unbearable: Love, Loss, and the Heartbreaking Path of Grief, by Joanne Cacciatore, PhD
• Resilient Grieving: How to Find Your Way Through a Devastating Loss, by Lucy Hone, PhD

The post How to Navigate a Performing Career While Grieving appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Again, Please

As with most things in dance (and life), investing time in your turns is essential to maintaining them. Koelliker, who is the co-creator of the program AKA Turns Technique, says repetition is the key to turning success.

But for professionals juggling class, rehearsals, auditions, and day jobs, that’s easier said than done. Consider swapping out your next musical theater or contemporary class for a leaps-and-turns class, or taking a few minutes between combinations in ballet or after rehearsal to practice.

Troubleshooting

That said, practicing won’t pay off if you’re not training correctly. “I’ll have students say, ‘I’m 18, I’ve been turning my whole life and it’s never come easy to me,’ Koelliker says. “And I’m like, ‘Well, yeah, your relevé is really low, and that’s really hard to sustain a turn on.’ Or, ‘Your ankles are super-wobbly, and that’s why you’re moving around.’ ”

If you’re in the middle of a turn regression, it can be difficult to diagnose the problem on your own. Getting a second pair of eyes to point out your current weaknesses is essential. Once you have a clear idea of what you need to work on, you can begin targeting those areas of weakness in your workout routines.

Let’s Get Physical

Whatever your experience level, strength and stability are key to solid, reliable turns. For general improvements, Koelliker recommends the following exercises.

Core Work

These three routines “engage that deep core and help dancers lift their passé higher,” Koelliker says, which will steady their turns.

• Lie on your back, bend your knees so you’re in a turned-out grand plié with your heels off the ground, and place a yoga block or Pilates ball between your heels. Straighten your knees, pushing away from your head, so your legs hover just above the ground. Lift your legs up to the ceiling, hinging at the hips to create a 90-degree angle with your legs and torso. Repeat 4 times.

• Lie on your back with your legs straight and raised to the ceiling, creating a right angle with your torso. Place the ball or block between your heels. Maintaining that stretched position, lower the legs until they hover just over the ground, then lift them back to the starting position. Repeat 4 times.

• Lie on your side with your left elbow propped up on a yoga block. Keeping your legs stacked on top of each other, take 4 counts to lift your bottom hip off the ground until you’re hovering over the floor. Draw your top leg up into a turned-out passé position for 4 counts, then draw it back down the leg for 4 counts. Lower your hip back to the floor in 4 counts. Repeat 6 times per side.

Relevés

Relevé exercises “help stabilize the ankles and work the arches so dancers can get into their highest relevé” as they turn, Koelliker says, which promotes better balance. 

• Place a yoga ball on the floor against the wall. Facing away from the wall in parallel, rise onto the balls of the feet, placing both heels on the ball. Either holding onto the wall behind you or placing the arms in first position, plié into a forced-arch position for 2 counts, then stretch the legs for 2 counts. Repeat 8 times.

• Turn to face the wall and take a step back, bringing the ball with you. Rise into a relevé passé, and place the ball under your standing heel. Plié on your standing leg so you are in a forced-arch position, then release the heel into the ball, squishing it down slightly. Return to the previous forced-arch position before stretching back into a fully stretched relevé. Do 4 repetitions on each leg.

Stabilization

“This exercise engages the adductors and helps dancers maintain a connected passé while turning,” Koelliker says, which will better support those multiples.

• Stand in passé on a yoga block. Place a Pilates ball between your working leg’s toes and your standing leg’s knee, squeezing your inner thighs to keep it in place. Plié on your standing leg, and lower your working leg down toward the floor, moving the ball with it. Return to the starting position. Repeat 8 times on each leg.

Arms

Koelliker says the resistance from the band in this exercise will support arm strength, engage the lats, and keep the shoulders down in turns.

• Put a TheraBand underneath a yoga block. Stand on the block in passé, holding one end of the band in each hand. Raise your arms into a wide T position. Keep your arms straight, with the palms down and the shoulders away from the ears. Lower the arms back to your sides. Repeat 8 times. Then, lift the arms into a wide T position, close the arms to first position, return to the wide T position, and lower the arms to your sides. Repeat 8 times.

Mindset Shift

Even after all that work, your turns probably won’t improve without a shift in perspective. “Growing up, my teachers ingrained in our souls that turns are 70 percent confidence and 30 percent ability,” Koelliker says. “Everyone at my studio truly believed they were amazing turners, and I think there is something to be said about just knowing you’re going to hit the turn.”

To encourage your mind to think that way, Koelliker recommends rhythmic mantras—using words or phrases whose syllables match the number of rotations in the turn you need to do. “When you’re trying to get a triple, say something like, ‘Yes I Can,’ and spot on each word,” she says.

My Experience

I took Koelliker’s advice and incorporated these tips and tricks into my training for the better part of a month. The result? Some real improvements in my turns! My ankles are stronger, and I feel more confident in my rotations.

For more of my conversation with Koelliker, and demonstrations of some of these exercises, head to Dance Magazine’s YouTube channel.

The post Dancer Diary: Top Turning Tips appeared first on Dance Magazine.

As a professional dancer I was fortunate to have a wonderful career filled with highs. I remember the opening night of A New Day… in Las Vegas, dancing beside Celine Dion for thousands of people. I felt like I was flying—I couldn’t believe this was my life.

With the highs there also came lows: injury, sickness, endless auditioning, being a Canadian trying to work in the U.S. But I never gave up. Even during the darkest times, I would go into the studio, turn some music on, and return to the real reason why I danced. I would tap into that “aliveness” that fills my heart and soul, and it always gave me fuel to continue.

As a choreographer and director, I now experience that aliveness through my dancers, through the work I create, and through mentoring the next generation of young artists. This alternate expression of this aliveness is an extension of what I feel inside, a desire to share that connection to the aliveness with others.

Now, as I get older, and the demands on my body through my career have changed how I can dance, I still know why I do it. I do it for the energy that comes alive in my body that doesn’t show up any other time. Filling every cell with pure electricity and allowing me to bask in sensation while everything else melts away. It’s like a secret superpower. And the beautiful thing is it doesn’t need me to be dancing like I did when I was 25. It can also be found in a slower movement, a gentle improvisation, a deep listening. It is an authentic connection to the truest part of me, one that brings me joy and whispers, “Stacey, you are alive.”

The post Choreographer Stacey Tookey Shares How Dance Makes Her Feel Alive appeared first on Dance Magazine.

The then-12-year-old Ribeiro, who starred as Willie Sheridan, the titular tap dance kid, told us: “I’m able to get something inside of me out in tap dancing, just really take it all and put it out into the open. Let my feet do the stuff, you know?” Ribeiro shot to stardom in the wake of the role, though today he is better known as Carlton, from “The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air,” and as a recent winner and then host of “Dancing with the Stars.”

Battle (who passed away this year at the end of January)­ was already a bona fide star when he took the showstopping role of Dipsy Bates, Sheridan’s uncle and tap teacher: He’d been the original Scarecrow in The Wiz at age 16, danced with Arthur Mitchell’s Dance Theatre of Harlem,­ and learned to tap and won a Tony for Sophisticated Ladies. “To make yourself part of the particular style is the biggest challenge in working with different choreographers,” Battle said. “I like to dig into what I’m doing, see what the choreographer sees in the step, what gives it that specialness. I think that’s why I was able to pick up tap; it is steps, and there’s a technique, but that’s only half of it. The essence of it is more important.­ I could go out and do steps all night, but it wouldn’t mean anything. It’s that other thing that I always think of as the key. And I really think that’s helped me understand not only tap but other kinds of dancing as well.”

And Weeks, The Tap Dance Kid’s Daddy Bates, was only in his mid-30s but could boast a 27-year career working with the likes of Jerome Robbins, Gower Champion, Michael Bennett, Michael Kidd, and Matt Mattox. “Show business is my life—I just love the business, all facets of it. But Broadway—dancing—is my first love,” he said. “My only goal is to be working. The dreams change, the work is ever present. And if you can stay healthy enough just to work, I think success and all those dreams that people fathom up will automatically come.”

The post TBT: Alfonso Ribeiro, Hinton Battle, and Alan Weeks Star in <i>The Tap Dance Kid</i> appeared first on Dance Magazine.

My dream growing up was to have my own series of fitness DVDs. That was the epitome of fitness for me! What ended up happening was something that I couldn’t even envision.

For my first two years of Peloton, I was still performing six nights a week in Queen of the Night, which meant a lot of naps. When I started, I think Peloton was my 21st 1099 of the year.

Later, I found out I had an autoimmune disease. But at the time I just knew I was really, really tired, so I stopped pursuing outside things because I needed the energy for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

I started with cycling—early Peloton didn’t have anything else. Now, I teach cycling, barre, Pilates, dance cardio, stretching, foam rolling, mobility, and strength. A lot of jobs can feel stagnant. But Peloton’s been that special bird where each year feels like the beginning of something. We’re constantly innovating.

I get a lot of pride from people telling me that their shoulders are back, their chest is lifted, they’re feeling lighter, they’re not feeling full of stress after taking my classes. I think that comes from my dance background.

When I am dancing and moving and celebrating myself in sweat, that’s when my mind is clear, my insides are full of joy. Being able to give that in class is pretty fun. The hope is that that comes across on the other side of the camera, where you can’t help but also feel the joy of movement and the celebration and sweat.

I want to combine this movement on camera with my love of theater. Now that my autoimmune disease is managed, I realized recently that I will regret not doing that because it is still such a love of mine. I will not be leaving Peloton. I’m just adding in some more naps.

It’s been fascinating to be in an audi­­tion room again. At Peloton, I spend a lot of my time talking to a camera, pretending like people are there. I’ve become masterful at envisioning the reaction that I want. If I’m teaching, the joke always lands, whether it was funny or not. It always works because it has to, right? There can’t be that moment of doubt or lack of self-confidence. Learning to trust that has really changed the audition landscape for me. When I was younger,­ it was a lot of “Oh, man, I hope you think I’m awesome.” And now it is entirely “Well, I am spec­tacular. You’ll either see it or you won’t.”

I don’t get nervous about a lot of things, and I’m a little nervous about going back, in a good way. But the Peloton community has been unbelievably supportive. These humans are taking my classes to be the best version of themselves, to make their future selves proud. So I think they understand it more than anyone.

For other dancers who’re chasing that performance career, my advice is to keep saying yes. It leads you to people and places that you maybe couldn’t have predicted but are probably the right place.

The post Star Peloton Instructor Hannah Corbin Returns to the Audition Circuit appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Videos with hashtags related to the UDA Nationals amassed hundreds of millions of views on TikTok, comments sections were flooded with fans from around the world, and dancers young and old attempted to replicate the University of Minnesota’s challenging and precise turn sequences, set to Aerosmith’s “Dream On.” Both Aerosmith and Minnesota governor Tim Walz weighed in on social in support of the team.

The newfound fame and accolades were welcome, particularly as these teams don’t often get much recognition: Dance is not formally recognized as a sport under the National Collegiate Athletic Association. But can this viral moment lead to any meaningful changes for collegiate dance teams?

Amanda Gaines, who coaches University of Minnesota’s dance team, hopes that conditions will improve for college dance teams everywhere. “I’d love to see consistency in the support teams are provided around athletic trainers, mental health support, nutritional support, and academic support,” she says. “My ultimate dream is for these athletes to have the opportunity to be scholarship athletes, and for all dance team coaches to get a seat at the table, so they can advocate for their team the same way other sports do.”

The online attention has reinvigorated­ a major talking point in the community: dance’s status as a collegiate sport. Because college dance teams are not sanctioned by the NCAA, dancers are not guaranteed the same perks student athletes receive, such as scholarships and fixed weekly training hours. Additionally, there isn’t a standardization of scoring, which means organizations like UDA and the National Dance Alliance and the Dance Team Union train judges on their own scoresheets.

Christine Zoffinger, head coach of Rutgers University dance team, asserts that NCAA regulation would bring substantial benefits to student dancers. “If dance is a fully fledged sport, the dancers would be seen as athletes, and they’d be awarded the same perks student athletes receive,” she says. “From the dancers’ perspective, that would be a huge plus.”

Danielle Chabot, the coach of Harvard Crimson Dance Team, agrees that NCAA recognition could bring significant benefits on a team level. “It would be wonderful for the NCAA to acknowledge dance and cheer as sports,” she says. “Spirit programs have been historically under-resourced at college campuses. Something as simple as getting priority space for practice can be a struggle at many institutions.”

The challenges inherent in establishing procedures to assign numerical scores to a dance performance provide an obstacle to NCAA regulation. “Part of the reason the NCAA hasn’t adopted dance is because there is no standard of judging,” explains Jennifer Eustice, dance team coach at the University of Iowa. “Gymnastics, for example, has very clear-cut criteria. We don’t have that in the dance team world. The feelings you get when you see a live performance—how do you judge that?” she wonders. “How do you regulate that?”

Dance team coaches are also hoping to see opportunities for more dancers to land name, image, and likeness (NIL) deals. Different states and schools have varying rules about these deals, which allow athletes to receive monetary compensation from companies for the use of their name, image, and likeness. “It’s amazing that this is happening for the big teams,” says Payton Ibos, director of spirit programs at Washington State University. “I hope NIL deals trickle down to the smaller teams too, because that’s how it works for other sports.”

Whether or not recent social media fame will usher in significant change, coaches are thrilled that dancers are being recognized for their skill and dedication. “So many people see what college dance teams do on the sidelines at university events, but they don’t understand how technical, athletic, and passionate the competitive side of our season is,” says Gaines. Eustice hopes that the influx of interest in dance will inspire the next generation to dance in college. “It shows young dancers that there are opportunities out there for them to continue their love of dance,” she says.

Joyce Winter, head coach of University of Central Florida’s dance team, thinks that with a surge of talent, creativity, and dedication among dancers, college dance is poised for even greater success. “We’re just so excited for what the future holds, and hope that college dance continues to boom.”

The post UDA Nationals Went Viral on TikTok. What’s Next for College Dance Teams?  appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Find Your Voice

Venturing into a new art form requires stepping beyond comfort zones and facing uncertainty. This discomfort can be a catalyst for growth, however, fostering adaptability and expanding creative horizons. Many dancers aren’t accustomed to using their voices onstage, so vocalizing for the first time onstage can be intimidating. Wolfe says a willingness to try is important: “When we’re embarrassed about our voice, or feel shame about it, or just feel funny about it because we haven’t used it a lot, we cut off a certain amount of impact and energy,­ even if we’re doing a project that’s completely silent.”

Wolfe recommends dancers practice a series of simple vocal­ warm-ups (see sidebar) to get more comfortable using­ their voice. It can also be helpful to practice delivering a monologue. “Start to listen to yourself saying the words,” Wolfe says. “You can video yourself. If you have someone else, whether that’s a friend or a roommate or a family member, becoming­ comfortable speaking words out loud in front of them is another way to start to become comfortable with your voice, be able to hear yourself, and loosen your inhibitions.”

Draw on Emotion

Learning to act involves exploring a range of emotions and an understanding of how to authentically portray them. Dancers who study acting can tap into a wider range of emotions, enabling them to convey more nuanced and compelling stories through their movements. Bharathi Penneswaran, a New York City–based bharatanatyam teacher, performer, and artistic director of Aalokam, says that paying attention to the way feelings affect the body in day-to-day life can help in expressing the same feelings onstage. “What happens when your body is happy? Do you move your limbs? Do you look very stiff? Or is it just your face that shows the expression?” she asks.

Kristi DeCaminada, a principal character dancer at San Francisco Ballet, adds that it’s important to pay attention to facial expressions when focusing on emotion in dance performance. She recommends using the mirror to gauge whether facial expressions are matching the energy of the dancing, the music, and the story. “The expression on your face can’t be overexaggerated; it has to be natural and believable,” she explains.­ “It has to be something you would do—it has to be your own and how you would interpret that emotion.”

Stretch Your Artistry

Dancers interested in improving their acting can adopt various strategies as a starting point. Enrolling in acting classes, or workshops specifically designed for dancers, can provide a structured foundation. These classes often focus on fundamental principles, such as character development, emotional expression, and improvisation. Wolfe encourages dancers to take part in community theater productions as a way to gain invaluable experience. “If you can get involved with a non-Equity production or a community production, you will learn a ton about how a piece of theater is made,” she explains. “There will most likely be people in the room that have a ton of training, so just being in the rehearsal room in a production of any level will be an acting class in and of itself.”

DeCaminada highlights the value of observing other dancers in rehearsal and onstage, as well as on video. Pay attention to how they interpret a role, infuse each step with emotion, and use the choreography to tell a story. “Watching as much dance as possible, and watching as many movies and as much acting as possible, is so important,” she says.

Warm Up Your Voice

Isadora Wolfe, an Acting for Dancers­ teacher at Juilliard, recommends these vocal­ warm-ups for dancers learning to find their voices:

• Face and jaw massage: Gently massage the chin, jaw, sinuses, and temples with your fingertips. “Part of preparing your voice is relaxing as much as possible, to produce the healthiest and richest sound,” Wolfe says.
• Lip buzz/trill: Press your lips together and blow out slightly, making a buzzing sound. See if you can maintain this sound while changing octaves.
• Humming: Wolfe says humming, whether it’s a scale or your favorite song, is a great warm-up or cool-down exercise that won’t strain your vocal cords.

The post How to Integrate Acting Skills Into Dance appeared first on Dance Magazine.

But for Lensi, who is allergic to dairy, eggs, nuts, and kiwifruit, it wasn’t as easy as going to a restaurant or following a standard recipe. “I decided I needed to figure out my own recipe,” she says. With the help of her mom, tuning in from Milan via FaceTime, Lensi experimented with coconut flour and brown rice flour before settling on oat. She also learned that chia seeds can act like an egg substitute, binding the batter together. “There were a lot of trials and errors, but I figured out that it is possible to make pancakes if you have a lot of food allergies, or you just want to avoid eggs or dairy,” says Lensi.

The Joy of Cooking

Living with severe allergies while managing ABT’s grueling rehearsal and touring schedule hasn’t always been easy for Lensi. Eating out or relying on prepared food is rarely an option. “When I was younger, I always felt like cooking was a chore because I have to do it literally every day,” she says, adding that even on tour, she cooks her own food; the company travels with a microwave for her to use. But recently, thanks to cooking together with her boyfriend, ABT dancer Andrii Ishchuk, and experimenting with recipes she finds on Instagram and YouTube, she’s learned to relish her time in the kitchen. And when that’s not enough? “I like to put a TV show on, and that makes it more enjoyable,” says Lensi. “I love any comedy show. Right now, I’m rewatching ‘Ugly Betty.’ ”

Knives Out

The one kitchen tool that Lensi can’t live without is sharp knives. “I love having good knives,” she says. “Because my arms are not super-strong, if I have a bad knife I really have to push too hard. I am really picky about that.”

Ingredients

• 1 cup oat flour
• 1 cup oat milk
• 1 tbsp olive oil, plus extra for greasing the pan
• 2 tbsps cane sugar (“I personally like the taste of cane sugar,” says Lensi. “It has more of a flavor, and growing up I always used it.”)
• 1 tbsp chia seeds
• 1/2 cup semisweet chocolate chips (“I use the brand Enjoy Life, because it’s free of 14 common allergens,” says Lensi.)
  Toppings
• berries
• maple syrup

Instructions

1. In a large mixing bowl, combine oat flour, oat milk, olive oil, cane sugar, chia seeds, and chocolate chips. Mix until the batter is smooth. If it feels too thick, you can add a bit more oat milk as needed.
2. Set a nonstick pan over medium heat. Pour some olive oil onto a paper towel and use it to grease the pan. (Lensi stresses the importance of this step: “If you don’t use the paper towel, the oil goes around the pancake instead of underneath, and the pancakes stick to the pan.”)
3. Using a soup spoon or ladle, spoon small amounts of the batter into the prepared pan to create individual pancakes. Allow them to cook until small bubbles form on the surface, then carefully flip them with a spatula.
4. Top the pancakes with a generous serving of fresh berries, and drizzle with maple syrup. Serve warm, and enjoy!

The post American Ballet Theatre’s Virginia Lensi Shares Her Allergy-Friendly Oat Pancakes appeared first on Dance Magazine.

In making Chasing Canyons, I set out to choreograph a site-specific dance for a site so big it is impossible to see in its entirety. I began with my geologic knowledge of the Grand Canyon, built from my years of scientific training and the weeks I spent climbing up and down its walls. The resulting gesture phrase follows the canyon’s life cycle: the initial crush of its basement rocks, the tilting of overlying strata, the massive gap in time known as the Great Unconformity, subsequent deposition of layers upon layers of sediments, and, finally, the coming of the Colorado River to uncover it all. From there, I began to draw the parts of the canyon that I could see, tracing the terraces and side canyons, dragging feet and fingers from the tops of the cliffs to the shady hollows at the base. I worked in the positions of the stars above the canyon, which mark its location in space and time. Then I merged it all together to create a moving map, not just of the canyon, but of how humans relate to it.

Connecting the canyon to the stars raised more questions: How do we interact with beautiful spaces, here on Earth and elsewhere? When we land on Mars, will we be owners or caretakers? At the end of the piece, I answer these questions: I erase the map. Much like art and science, I think that “to boldly go” and “take only pictures, leave only footprints” are two complementary, not conflicting, philosophies.

My time as the Astronomer (and dancer) in Residence at the canyon has ended, but I will carry it in my body as well as my mind. It is my greatest hope that in making these kinds of dances, I can inspire audiences to expand their minds—to explore the different ways we can understand, learn, and appreciate the universe in which we live.

The post Dancing Across the Solar System as the Grand Canyon’s Astronomer in Residence appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Moving With Precision

Dancers tend to demonstrate Pilates exercises exceptionally well as a result of their training, conditioning, and awareness of the details of movement. Bryant has found the deep knowledge of the body and of movement patterns she developed as a dancer to be indispensable in teaching Pilates. “I had decades of memorizing choreography, both for performances and during classes,” she says. “Classical Pilates has more than 530 exercises. Trying to memorize 530 random facts would be overwhelming, but placing them in a choreographic sequence makes them accessible.”

Similarly, dancers have experience with the body getting progressively warmer and stronger as they move through a dance class. “The same thing happens in a Pilates class,” says Bryant. “You start with relatively simple exercises and build toward more difficult and complex movement.”

Founded by Joseph Pilates during World War I to help rehabilitate injured and sick prisoners of war, Pilates draws upon principles of physical therapy, yoga, and gymnastics to create a holistic approach to exercise and movement. Bryant credits Pilates for extending her own career as a dancer. “I was a very hypermobile dancer and had a lot of chronic dislocations,” she says. “Pilates helped to stabilize my body tremendously.”

Teaching also offers a way for dancers to work in a field that’s more directly related to their passion for movement. “You can earn money with a job that actually informs your dancing,” says Bryant, explaining that many of her dance colleagues had second jobs in restaurants or retail. “Teaching Pilates gives you the opportunity to speak health into your body while also helping somebody else move better. It gives you a career that is directly related to health, wellness, and movement.”

Spiraling Strength

Karen Safrit can draw a direct line from her own dance training and teaching to her success as a Gyrotonic teacher. A competitive figure skater as a child, Safrit later danced professionally­ with Nikolais and Murray Louis Dance. She decided to get certified to teach Gyrotonic more than a decade ago as an asset to teaching in university dance programs. Instantly it clicked: “Dancers generally are not aware of how they achieve the strength in their movement, as it’s not often talked about in ballet or modern classes,” says Safrit. “The Gyrotonic Expansion System focuses on making the whole body stronger and giving people the ability to identify what they can do to achieve that strength and balance.”

The Gyrotonic Expansion System was created by Juliu Horvath, a former principal dancer with the Romanian National Ballet Company, who defected from Romania, settled in the U.S., and was a principal dancer with Houston Ballet. After a ruptured Achilles tendon ended his performing career, he moved to New York City and developed the Gyrotonic and Gyrokinesis exercises. For Safrit, who had also studied Pilates while getting an MFA in dance at New York University, Gyrotonic exercises are “more three-dimensional, with more spirals in all the extremities.”

Safrit has found that teaching fits well into many dancers’ schedules. “Most dancers are working at night if they’re performing, or taking classes at night if their city doesn’t have open classes during the day. A lot of the people who are practicing Gyrotonic are looking for sessions during the daytime.”

Teaching also taps into a skill many dancers possess: focus.­ “I remember when I was dancing professionally and class was the place where all the worries of the day disappeared and my only concern was dancing,” says Safrit. “My clients today describe a similar pleasure with Gyrotonic: You have to concentrate on each movement, and this mindfulness gives people an hour of focus that’s often missing in busy lives that are full of distractions and screens. They separate the pressures of life outside the studio from an hour of moving within the studio. Dancers understand that joy.”

Teaching Certifications

Teaching Gyrotonic, which is trademarked, requires becoming a certified trainer. Gyrotonic certification includes a pre-training course, the foundation course, an apprenticeship, and a final certificate/assessment, with a cost of just under $5,000. Continuing education credits are required every two years, costing between $400 and $1,000, and instructors are also required to have their own liability insurance (approximately $160 annually). Gyrotonic teachers typically charge clients between $100 and $175 for an hour-long private session.

“Pilates is legally considered a generic term, which means anyone can open a Pilates studio and start training teachers,” explains Everlea Bryant, who strongly recommends dancers get certified before teaching. She recommends looking for a well-established program with instructors who have significant experience in teacher training. While Bryant acknowledges getting certified can be expensive, with “some programs costing upwards of $10,000 for comprehensive training,” she notes that most teachers will earn many multiples of the cost of training.

There are ways to reduce and/or spread out costs: Bryant directs a studio that offers work–study positions and internships. “People can pay for their training while earning an income,” she says.

The post Why Dancers Make Great Pilates and Gyrotonic Instructors appeared first on Dance Magazine.

A Little More Mascara

Dennis Callahan (Monique): I think there were between 800 and 1,000 at the original open call. Scott Salmon, who was the choreographer, was not a New York person. So it was really like a clean slate as far as what he was seeing at these auditions.

David Engel (Hanna): I was only being seen for Jean-Michel [one of the leads]. Then they said, “We need to see you dance and in drag.” I didn’t know why. I came to the final dance call. Everybody else had learned all this choreography. I learned it on the spot.

Dan O’Grady (Odette): It got down to maybe 25 of us at the end. I had never done any drag, but I decided to show up in drag [for the final audition]. It was really, really funny. When I got into the cab, the cab driver got out, opened the door for me, called me ma’am. Then I went into the theater, and they didn’t know who I was. No one else arrived in drag.

DC: From 10 in the morning to 4 or 5 in the afternoon, we did all of the dancing in drag. And at the end of this long day, we were 12 and 12 across the stage.

DE: Basically, it was like the end of A Chorus Line. We were all lined up across the stage. And then they’re like, “Rehearsals start on this date—congratulations.” Everybody’s jumping up and down screaming, and I’m like, “What’s happening? What’s going on?”

DC: After the others left, they had the 12 of us gather around the piano and sing “There’s No Business Like Show Business” in real short-clipped piano voices. [Composer] Jerry Herman said, “This is the style of La Cage’s opening song, ‘We are What We Are.’ ” It was such a cool moment to be around the piano with Jerry and [music director] Don Pippin, all of us in drag.

Not a Place We Have to Hide

DE: The very first day of rehearsal, [director] Arthur Laurents said, “We are not doing this apologetically. We are proudly playing these roles.”

DO: He gave us all storylines. Some were more developed than others, but we all had a bit of one. He really instilled in us that we were important to the story.

DC: Though I don’t think any of us had any experience doing drag, I don’t think any Cagelle would say it was hard. The atmosphere in the room was so supportive and nurturing that none of us felt any fear of being judged.

DO: I remember Arthur working on “I Am What I Am” with George Hearn [who played Albin], a straight man. The amount of pride and dignity that Arthur conveyed not just to George but all of us was very powerful. It moves me even just to think of it now.

DC: The Cagelles were given the last bow. When does that ever happen? We each just took a humble bow as ourselves. The sound of the audience was unbelievable.

Sometimes Sweet and Sometimes Bitter

DE: We had a whole warm-up area in the basement, and at intermission, we’d dress up, we’d be ridiculous. We just kept creating and playing.

It was the best of times. And it was the worst of times.

DO: I first started hearing about the “gay cancer” when we were in Boston. Nobody knew what it was.

DE: I remember thinking to myself, if I went to a gay bar, I would hold my breath. You just didn’t know. It was everywhere, and if you tested positive, it was a death sentence, definitely. And you could go quick.

DO: I think David Cahn [Chantelle] was the first of us Cagelles who got sick and left, then John Dolf [Nicole].

DC: I don’t remember any conversation between the rest of us about the boys being sick. I think it was sort of a feeling of: If they wanted to talk about it they would, and they’re not, so neither should we. And maybe there was also a fear.

DO: We felt the loss from the inside, and I think that’s what sort of led us to start thinking about the Easter Bonnet competition. Howard Crabtree and the other costume folks did these silly Easter bonnets, and we had folks donate. In the beginning it was just the cast, the crew, and the orchestra.

DE: We did the Easter Bonnet pageant in the basement and a Queen of Hearts pageant for Valentine’s Day, both just among ourselves, and raised money for Gay Men’s Health Crisis. The next year we decided to bring the Easter Bonnet pageant onto the stage and invited other casts to come—A Chorus Line, Cats, there were a few companies. I remember when they flipped over the cards at the end, we had raised $17,000. I was sobbing, sobbing.

DO: I think we needed a sense of agency. Because there was no hope. There really wasn’t. Our friends were dying, and we couldn’t do anything about it. But we could dress up and act silly and ask people for money.

DC: Teddy Azar was instrumental in the whole look of the show makeup- and wig-wise. He was one of the first in the company to come down with AIDS. He was at St. Vincent’s, and David [Scala, who played Phaedra], Sam [Singhaus, Clo-Clo], and I got some nurse drag with these giant hypodermic needles and resuscitation devices, just ridiculous stuff, and we went down there. People who worked there came up to us and said, “Could you please come bring some of this joy into some of the other rooms?” And we went in and out of these rooms, these three big old drag queens in nurse drag, and it was joyous. The whole thing was joyous.

DE: I had plenty of hard losses, but the hardest was [executive producer] Fritz Holt. At the show that night, we silently got in place, and one by one we turned around in the opening number and we all started singing “We Are What We Are.” But then one by one voices were dropping out. We just couldn’t sing. We were all crying. The cast members in the wings on both sides were singing for us, trying to keep it going.

We Are What We Are

DC: When we would turn around one by one in the opening number, you could feel, physically, this sort of crossed-arm, furrowed-brow feeling from the audience. They were probably wondering if maybe we’re too close, we’re going to get [AIDS].

By the end of the show those same faces were leaning into the stage, wide-eyed. I left every night thinking, Wow, I think I was part of something that changed what people think about homosexuals.

DE: I came out to my mom when I was 18, and she really struggled with it. She couldn’t understand what she had done wrong. And it was La Cage that turned her around. It let her know that you can have love and family being gay. She became a mother to all of my gay friends that had parents that disowned them. They adored her, and she loved all of them.

DC: From the beginning my parents saw something in me. They would take me to the Muny Opera, to the Starlight in Kansas City, and nurtured that in me. But at the same time I didn’t ever feel like I needed to tell them I was gay. I thought the words and the situation would hurt them. And they knew.

When they saw the show, that was my way of being able to tell them and show them that I was going to be okay.

DO: La Cage changed my life. I got to work with Harvey Fierstein and Jerry Herman and Arthur Laurents and Fritz Holt and Barry Brown and Don Pippin, and George Hearn and Gene Barry [Georges] and Merle Louise [Mme. Didon]. I also learned so much from Linda Haberman [Bitelle] and Jennifer Smith [Colette]. The work ethic, the creativity, and the artistry was like nothing I had ever been exposed to.
DC: At the 40-year reunion, we sang “The Best of Times.” There were two older gentlemen sitting next to each other in the audience, and they were bawling. And I thought, god, this show affected more people than we will ever know. It’s so special to have been a part of something like that.

The post <i>La Cage aux Folles</i>’ Cagelles, 40 Years Later: Something About Sharing, Something About Always appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Evans-Krueger, who graduated from Wright State University with a BFA in dance, possesses a magnetic presence, ethereal movement quality, and contagious passion. She will bring this winning trifecta to The Outsiders (which opens April 11 on Broadway) as both a performer and associate choreographer.

Food for the Soul

“The workload within this industry can be exhausting. But at the same time, when you’re performing as part of a show that you really believe in, night after night, it feels like it’s for a reason and a purpose. When a show sits right within your soul, even the hardest workdays are beyond worth it, and that’s what so many of us are searching for in life.”

Making the Space

“I am very observant. I’m good at reading a room and fitting into wherever someone needs me. I want to be open and I want people to feel free to express themselves in a space. To prepare for my leadership role with The Outsiders, I make sure I do what I need to do—like journaling, taking my morning walk—so that I am grounded within myself before I step into a space where I am expected to be a support system for other people.”

All the Right Questions

“I’m very curious about why I am the way I am, and why people are the way they are. Digging into my humanity and diving deeper into what makes me me is an inspiration for the work that I do. When it comes to choreographing, I ask myself: ‘What do I need to heal? What do I want to discover about relationships?’ I feel like my life’s work is about breaking down all of the things I grew up on so I was and am able to build a foundation that works for me.”

The post Broadway Dancer Tilly Evans-Krueger Seeks Authenticity Above All appeared first on Dance Magazine.

“There’s a little bit of everything,” he says. “Tap is probably the only thing we don’t have.”

It may be an exaggeration, but not by much. In the show’s ballet- and contemporary-inspired tornado scene, a storm of dancers destroys Dorothy’s home and sends her off to Oz. Once she gets there, she’s swept up in a New Orleans–style second line that leads her down the Yellow Brick Road, where she meets a Tinman who pops-and-locks. Eventually, she is ushered into the Emerald City amongst a dizzying array of dances from the Black diaspora, from street styles out of Atlanta to Afrobeats to the South African amapiano. 

Though The Wiz may have one of the most versatile casts of dancers on Broadway right now—and, in Knight, a choreographer who has shown from his expansive commercial career that he can do pretty much anything—the show’s pull-out-all-the-stops movement isn’t about showing off. Instead, it’s a form of placemaking, says director Schele Williams, grounding Dorothy in elements of Black culture as she journeys through Oz and back home again.

“I liken Dorothy’s journey to a walk through the woods,” she says. “You can turn a corner, and it’s a gorgeous meadow. And then you can go another 40 yards and all of a sudden there’s a lake. Every turn, you can be in a new location with its own set of rules. It gives us permission to fully immerse ourselves in a new location.”

Tapping into his encyclopedic knowledge of dance genres to create a unique vocabulary was nothing new for Knight, who has spent years choreographing for top pop stars, most notably Beyoncé. What was new for him: the genre of musical theater, and the task of using those dances to tell a story.

And not just any story. The Wiz, a retelling of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz and a staple of Black culture, was revolutionary when it premiered in 1975 with choreography by George Faison, winning seven Tony Awards, including Best Musical and Best Choreography. A film adaptation starring Diana Ross and Michael Jackson, with choreography by Louis Johnson, came three years later. Several efforts to reignite a Broadway production have been in the works since, including a revival in 1984 that only lasted 13 performances, and another attempt in 2004 that never got off the ground.

This time, The Wiz team predicts, will be different. Williams believes the world needs this show, with its joy-infused score and hope-filled message, right now. And by taking the production out of the ’70s and adding some contemporary innovations—in addition to Knight’s genre-bending choreography, there are updates to the book by comedian Amber Ruffin; costumes by Sharen Davis (of “Westworld,” “Watchmen,” and Dreamgirls); a dazzling set by Hannah Beachler, of Black Panther; and a modernized score by music team Joseph Joubert, Allen René Louis, Adam Blackstone, and Paul Byssainthe Jr.—they hope it will become timeless.          

“I really wanted to create something that didn’t feel super ‘now,’ ” says Knight, “but takes you on a journey of Black dance. Throughout the show you see how these people live, how they move, how they celebrate, how they mourn, how they support each other, how they find a family.”           

Knight began building the show’s choreography in October 2022. He workshopped movement in Los Angeles with some of his go-to commercial dancers. “I dreamed as big as I could,” Knight says. “For me, it was about, How do we keep the essence­ and energy of what George Faison did, and also bring JaQuel Knight to the table?”

Broadway veteran and The Wiz dance captain Amber Jackson says the dance call was one of the most intense she’s experienced, with long, fast combos that constantly switched between styles, and rooms jam-packed with a who’s who of Black dance talent. A dance workshop with the chosen few—many of whom were Broadway newbies like Knight—followed, then rehearsals, then the national tour, then another round of rehearsals and tweaks before Broadway previews.

Reviews of the tour seem to agree that the production is highly entertaining, if a bit flashy. But as far as the choreography is concerned, nothing is flashy for flashiness’ sake. “I think the movement does a really beautiful job of not letting the audience feel detached from it,” says ensemble member Maya Bowles. “It’s not so codified in technique that it’s like, ‘That’s so impressive.’ It feels familiar. It feels like home. It feels like something that’s inherently in us as a Black community. It’s something you can be a part of. The invitation is open.”

From Beyoncé to Broadway

Theater was already on Knight’s bucket list when he got the offer to choreograph The Wiz, a call that, he says, made him “lose his mind.” Moving from commercial dance to Broadway presented a new opportunity: Knight, who is so often tasked with executing the vision of another artist—whether Beyoncé, Megan Thee Stallion, or Britney Spears—had a chance to discover his own vision. “I feel like I’m given room to explore my creativity and shape my voice as a movement artist,” he says. “And I’m enjoying that.”

Being new to theater, and therefore not beholden to ideas of how things are “supposed to be” done, has given Knight freedom to push the boundaries of what dance on Broadway can look like, says Phillip Johnson Richardson, who plays the Tinman. “He has the audacity to reinvent the whole thing,” Richardson says, “and not think of it like, ‘We can’t touch that, that’s classic material.’ ”

A New Kind of Tinman

In most productions of The Wiz, during the song “Slide Some Oil to Me,” the Tinman shows off his newly lubricated joints with a tap dance. But in Knight’s interpretation, the dance break becomes a showstopping hip-hop moment that Richardson, who plays the Tinman, says revealed the whole character to him.

The movement—lots of popping, locking, and waving—felt familiar to Richardson, reminding him of dances he watched growing up. “It was like, ‘Oh, I know who this guy is,’ ” says Richardson. “ ‘And I know how I can approach this guy.’ It informed how I wear my hat—I was originally supposed to wear it to the front, and I was like, ‘Nah, he’d wear it to the back or the side.’ He’s a lot closer to me than I originally thought.”

The post <i>The Wiz</i> Returns to Broadway Nearly 50 Years After Its Premiere With More Dance Than Ever appeared first on Dance Magazine.

It’s true that her journey into dance was intertwined with higher education: She double-majored in dance and politics at Oberlin College and earned her MFA in choreography at UCLA. Her thesis work looked at salsa as a way to express social­ resistance in the debate around immigration. The Cuban­ American daughter of two labor union organizers, Alvarez had also seen her mother transition into academia, which made it feel familiar and accessible.

It hasn’t always felt inviting and inclusive, however. “I was constantly fighting to legitimize the ways that I danced, and the ways that I moved, and the things that I was interested in studying,” she says. When it came to exploring social dance practices outside of ballet and modern and how she wanted to move through the world as an artist, Alvarez says, “I found myself having to really push back and advocate and argue with people that it mattered.”

After she graduated, Alvarez focused on art and activism the way she envisioned it. After some early adjunct-teaching gigs in dance departments, she shifted her focus to cultivating her own work, accepting occasional guest-choreographer and visiting-artist opportunities instead. “It felt like the field wasn’t ready yet,” she says.

Years later—after carving her own path, building a thriving company, and receiving recognition for her work—she found the job opening at UCSD. “It literally was describing who I am as an artist,” she says. “When I got the job description, I was like, ‘I think they’re ready.’ ”

She’s so glad they were. “I’ve always had deep, deep love for learning, deep love for teaching, deep love for inquiry and curiosity,” she says. “So much of my own artmaking practice is about asking questions and grappling with the world, and there is no better place to be doing that than inside of a university.”

Making Way for New Stories

Alvarez’s parents instilled in her a drive to make the world “a better, more loving, and just place,” she says, and she wanted to do it through movement. “I have a deep belief that choreography is community organizing,” she explains. “You’re imagining and creating worlds, and you’re redefining the ways in which we think about the world and think about ourselves within the world.”

That, in an oversimplified nutshell, is the philosophy she brought with her to UCSD at a moment when the “Dance” part of the Theatre and Dance Department in particular was in transition. “I fell in love with the blank canvas that I saw,” she says, along with the students and colleagues she met. It gave her the freedom to start building something new.

In her first year, she taught courses on the politics of partnering, introduction to dancemaking, and what she calls “ancestral technologies,” exploring the wisdom of one’s ancestors embedded in social dance practices. She hired nearly a dozen new lecturers to teach classes in forms as diverse as traditional hula, flamenco, capoeira, Filipino folk dance, West African dance, Afro-Cuban dance, tap, jazz, contact improvisation, and more.

She also did a lot of listening, and heard a common refrain­ about people being isolated in their own silos. She established a weekly “Connection Jam” where anyone and everyone is welcome. “We’re gonna get down, we’re gonna dance, we’re gonna sweat, and we’re gonna move together,” Alvarez says. “We’re gonna practice joy.”

Another new tradition has all the technique classes gather at the end of the quarter to share what they’ve been doing with their peers. It was so popular the first quarter they did it, in a small black-box theater, that they moved to the Epstein Family Amphitheater the next time around.

“Ana María’s presence in the department is wholly inspiring and palpably positive, and she has forged a strong sense of community,” says faculty member Jade Power-Sotomayor, explaining that Alvarez led the way in cleaning out the dance office and putting up new posters all over the building, “literally making way for new bodies and new stories.”

Connecting Campus and Company

The new role at UCSD came with a serious commute and a major balancing act. Alvarez still lives in Los Angeles with her family and continues to work as an artist with CONTRA-TIEMPO and beyond. It’s only possible to juggle, she says, because CONTRA-TIEMPO horizontalized its leadership structure—with Alvarez as artistic director running the group with three other directors. She splits her weeks between campus and company and plans intensive projects for academic breaks.

There are no silos here, either. “Because I have this access and connection to a professional dance company that is making work, that is touring, that is running summer programs, that is doing regular local gigs,” she says, “my students also have access to that.” Early on, Alvarez invited company members to San Diego to lead a Connection Jam so her students could meet and engage with the pros. In recent months, Alvarez has been working with a group of students to explore and deepen the physical language of ¡azúcar!, her latest piece for CONTRA-TIEMPO, to culminate in a performance with other faculty choreography at Winter Works on March 15 and 16. When CONTRA-TIEMPO comes to UCSD to perform ¡azúcar! in April, those students will become the community cast that shares the stage with them.

“I’m just so excited to be anywhere she is,” says Norma Ovalle, who graduated last year but is participating in the process as an alum volunteer. “I didn’t necessarily grow up seeing that there’s a possibility for somebody like me to pursue this,” she says. But that changed when she met Alvarez. She’s now working toward an associate’s degree and a future in dance.

Coming up a few years behind her, Vrisika Chauhan, a junior­ who has a background in Indian classical dance and also didn’t always feel like she belonged, decided to declare dance as a second major. “My perspective on what dance is has truly shifted,” she says, thanks to Alvarez. “She has helped so many students, including myself, feel seen.”

The post Ana María Alvarez Redefines the Dance Program at UC San Diego appeared first on Dance Magazine.

While dance is often considered inextricably linked to music, the absence of music can open a unique space for exploration. Three artists share their experiences and advice for dancing in works without music.

Tune In to Your Senses

Most dancers are accustomed to navigating a work through its music, whether planning complex movement patterns onstage or predicting a partner’s location leading up to a big lift. Without music as a guide, dancers instead often rely more on other senses, like sight, but they are still listening. Sam Black, Mark Morris Dance Group’s company director, suggests that the heightened sensations and subtle adjustments made while dancing in silence have a lot in common with what happens when performing with live accompaniment. Because live music varies slightly each time it’s performed, dancers have to adjust accordingly in the moment. “We’re always looking around, we’re always listening very closely to cues,” he says. “That is even more true in a piece where we don’t have musical cues or anything to listen to except each other’s breathing and footsteps.”

Connecting with your senses in a deep way is something that will likely take practice. Black recommends gathering a group of dancers and practicing walking across the floor together, shoulder to shoulder, focusing on tuning in to your own senses, as well as the energy of the group. “The only goal is to stay in line, just walking shoulder to shoulder across the studio,” he explains. “There’s no prescribed amount of time that it’s supposed to take, and you’re not walking in rhythm.”

Establishing a deep awareness of the sounds and placement of the other dancers can also help with distractions, which you may be more apt to notice in the absence of music. “If somebody is coughing in the audience, or if somebody sneezes or there’s rustling, you just have to remain in that super-focused space,” says Emilie Gerrity, a principal dancer with New York City Ballet. Incorporating a mindfulness practice focused on your senses can help make the process of tuning in easier come performance time.

Emphasize Artistry

Dancers also draw artistic inspiration from the music, such as dynamics and emotions. These still exist in silent works, but they might need a bit more accentuation without the aid of a score, Gerrity says. “Because there’s not that added element of music, you really have to draw your audience in,” she explains.

When rehearsing for Jerome Robbins’ Moves, which is performed in silence, Gerrity says it was helpful for her to remember the dynamics of a certain step or section through sensory-based cueing. She says the rehearsal director offered mental imagery as artistic inspiration, describing which moves felt “hot” in temperature, or which step felt like a “shock.”

Dancers can incorporate this strategy by asking their directors or teachers for insight into the intention or feeling of the work, or by taking time to explore it on their own. Black recommends practicing a simple phrase to different kinds of music, paying attention to the tones and feelings each song brings forth. Acknowledging and challenging these natural inclinations can be helpful when it comes to performing without music. “I do think it’s natural that music is an indication, often, of emotion or mood. But the opposite of that is: Just because something doesn’t have music doesn’t mean it’s devoid of feeling or emotion,” Black says.

Dance as One

While it’s always important to stay attuned to other dancers, dancing in a group without music makes this even more vital. “You have to stay on the same wavelength, the same breath pattern, the same energetic movement,” says Leslie Andrea Williams, a member of the Martha Graham Dance Company. “That requires not doing too much to stand out or be beyond the pack. It’s about feeling that collective energy.”

To practice moving as one, Williams recommends an exercise inspired by Graham’s Steps in the Street, which is partially silent. In a group of dancers, establish a rhythmic pattern each dancer can repeat to themselves mentally. (The Graham dancers use a syllabic pronunciation of “silent walks.”) Then, walk backwards with your eyes closed, using this particular beat—and the sounds you hear from other dancers—to guide your movements. “You try to create the sound—and then the silence in between—without looking at anyone,” she explains.

Black also recommends the group of dancers learns a simple movement phrase without counts. Then, covering or facing away from the mirrors, perform the phrase together, trying to stay in unison. Face different directions for an extra challenge. He says this exercise will help develop “the ability to key into what other people are doing. You have to be able to make real-time adjustments, but you’re so keyed into each other and so attentive that it actually ends up being easier because you don’t really have to do as much—it’s almost like catching the current and just riding on it.”

The post The Art of Dancing Without Music appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Diversity, equity, and inclusion efforts have raised awareness about exclusionary practices in all kinds in dance, and the mainstream body-positivity movement has led to some progress—most noticeably impacting the dance world since the rise of social media. Yet sizeism remains an especially recalcitrant, systemic issue that continues to plague dancers worldwide.

The Roots of the Problem

“Sizeism is the idea that people in bigger or fat bodies are less worthy; they’re less capable,” explains TJ Stewart, an assistant professor at Iowa State University who researches stigmatized identities. “This connects to a broad and deep-seated value of hard work and individualism. The idea is that fat bodies don’t work hard, that they are lazy.” Even today, plus-size dancers often have to work harder to prove their value.

Sizeism is not a dance-specific issue. But while industries like fashion and media have been held more accountable in recent years, the dance world appears especially slow to adopt inclusive changes. Much of this can be tied to the fundamental role of the body in dance, and the notion that bigger bodies have a limited range of dance ability. A culture of extreme thinness has long dominated ballet and ballet-based styles in particular.

There’s also the insidious belief that larger bodies are solvable problems—again, not unique to the dance world, but notably prevalent within its perfectionist culture. “The dominant frame is that ‘You have a body that isn’t the way bodies should be, and you can change that. So if you don’t, any negative experiences you have are your fault,’ ” Stewart says.

Subtly Exclusionary

While overt size bias is still a problem in dance, today discrimination frequently happens in subtler ways. And when bigger bodies are included, they are often either tokens or afterthoughts.

In the summer of 2023, for example, Australian pop star Troye Sivan released a dance-centric music video to his single “Rush.” Fans across the world took to social media to ask: Where was the body diversity? Why were only ultrathin bodies represented?

Sivan eventually responded to the situation, and featured a somewhat more-inclusive array of bodies in his following music video. But while the “Rush” video wasn’t an outright fatphobic attack, it was evidence of an implicit form of sizeism: In dance, including bigger bodies often isn’t a priority until it becomes a public relations issue. “Fixing” that kind of crisis sometimes leads to tokenism, in which a small number of larger bodies (often just one) are included to ensure a level of applause, credit, or clout.

Steps Forward

That’s not to say progress has been nonexistent. A wave of trailblazers have led the charge to bring down sizeism. Amanda LaCount’s #breakingthestereotype movement has made her a prominent role model for plus-size dancers; Kameron Saunders’ standout performance on Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour earned public acclaim. Social media platforms have helped expose more dancers and dance fans to a wider array of talented dancing bodies, particularly in commercial dance.

Additionally, the fight for the art world to become more inclusive now has legislative oomph. A new law passed in New York City last year prohibits height or weight discrimination in employment, housing, and public accommodations, joining similar laws already on the books in Binghamton, New York; Madison, Wisconsin; San Francisco and Santa Cruz, California; Urbana, Illinois; and the State of Michigan.

Change From the Top Down

When it comes to sizeism in dance, the yo-yo of positive momentum and backwards thinking can make it difficult to figure out how to create lasting change. But many point to the dance world’s leaders—its teachers, choreographers, and directors—who hold outsized power when it comes to shaping expectations and norms.

“Eating disorders and depression and a lot of hate with yourself, that all [can start] within the studio,” says plus-size dancer Aisha Olemba, who recently danced on tour with SZA. Olemba shares that she shied away from dance until college, attributing that hesitation to “the outdated look of what I thought a professional dancer looked like.” Many like her have given up on dance altogether because of toxic messaging about what the size of a dancer “should” be. Eliminating weight talk in class, especially with young students, can help build a better foundation for dancers of all sizes.

Dancer Floyd Slayweather, whose credits include Lizzo and Saucy Santana, says that dance leaders need to consistently cultivate body diversity in classrooms, casting practices, and the industry as a whole, so that it becomes a new normal rather than a box to tick on a checklist.

“I wish that teachers were not looking at dancers of size as an anomaly, or just picking us out because they want to create a viral moment,” he says. To move past the tokenizing we-only-need-one mentality, “it has to be normalized,” Slayweather says. “If you’re going to stand on inclusivity, then you need to practice it.”

A Community of Kindness

As more plus-size dancers make inroads in the dance industry, they’ve found crucial support in each other. Olemba, Slayweather, and fellow dancer Collin Smith—a TikTok standout—all share similar stories about the transformative power that comes with being in a room of like-minded dancers.

Slayweather describes performing with a cast of larger dancers at the 2022 BET Awards as his own kind of Cinderella story. “Seeing a full cast of beautiful plus-size women and men—I still get emotional about it to this day,” he says. “To hug one another, to encourage each other, is an amazing feeling that I will take with me for the rest of my life.”

One of Olemba’s favorite memories is getting an influx of messages from other plus-size dancers after booking SZA’s tour. “Them coming to me and just saying how much they were proud of me just showed me through all those [hard] times…it made me want to push harder,” she says. “I realized that this is bigger than just me. I’m doing it for people who did not think that this was possible for someone that looked like them.”

And that influence extends beyond the dance world. Smith says that, as his profile has grown, he’s been overwhelmed by the effect his visibility has had on others, helping to create a broad-based community of kindness.

“That’s a motivating factor, to know that I’m making an impact and being an influence in some way,” Smith shares. “Just letting people know you can be exactly who you are, regardless of what you look like.”

The post What Will It Take For the Field to Become Truly Inclusive of Plus-Size Dancers? appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Company: Houston Ballet

Age: 21

Hometown: Indianapolis, Indiana

Training: Dance Creations Academy, Houston Ballet Academy, Houston Ballet II

Destination Houston: Best bonded with Houston Ballet during his first summer intensive there in 2018. “I improved so much and made so many friends. I felt this is a place where I can grow and learn,” he says. During his next summer, in Los Angeles at a Debbie Allen Dance Academy intensive, he met guest teacher Lauren Anderson, who is Houston Ballet Academy’s associate director of education and community engagement. “She said, ‘Oh, you need to get back to Houston, like, right away.’ So I did.”

Quick rise: After joining Houston Ballet II in 2021, Best apprenticed with the main company in 2022, and sailed into the corps in 2023. After a flurry of lead roles, he was promoted to soloist at the beginning of the season, a time he describes as “taking that leap of faith and going along for the ride. I’ve surprised myself with what I was actually capable of doing and because of Stanton [Welch] and Julie [Kent]’s support and faith in me.”

Midsummer doubleheader: Houston audiences got to know just how much Best was capable of when he landed major roles—Lysander and Puck—in both casts of John Neumeier’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream at the start of this season.

What the co-artistic directors are saying: “Eric has such physical intelligence, his mind–body connection is extraordinary,” says Julie Kent. “There’s a divine quality to his dancing. Also, he looks great at every angle.” Stanton Welch shares that “Eric is a phenomenal talent. He is so musical, and brings such detail to my ballets. I get to choreograph without limit, and he makes me want to be a better choreographer.”

Speaking the same language: Best’s affinity for Welch’s intricate choreography comes through in the growing list of Welch’s ballets he’s performed thus far. “Now I can go into his new works knowing what he’s going to bring and what he’s looking for,” says Best. “I just try to come in with the same energy, ready to work.” Clear, originally created after 9/11, made a profound impact on Best. “Every time I watch this ballet or I perform it or rehearse it, I always find something new that ties to the narrative of it.”

Beyond dancing: Best loves drawing and sketching. “Mostly self-portraits, people, sometimes superheroes. I’m very passionate about art and would like to take more classes,” he says. “I always want to make sure that I keep doing the things that interest me besides dance.”

The post Meet Houston Ballet Soloist Eric Best appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Béjart, who played the role of The Poet (who directs the characters, who largely rebel against him), said of it, “It’s a difficult ballet because it’s not story. It’s visions, and sometimes so many visions happen in so little time in so many different places on the stage that you cannot absorb all of them at one sitting….It’s constructed like a movie, more or less, and like a symphony….The dream is coming and, more and more the dream is destroying the structure of classical music and classical ballet, as though dream and the subconscious are stronger than the rigid structure of ballet, and they destroy it….But the real story of the ballet is the fight between the creator and the interpreter. When it starts, [dancer Jorge] Donn and I are both sitting, like fighters, in the ring which is made from broken classical ballet barres. It’s a fight.”

By Stoop’s estimation, in addition to Donn as the Hero (who “is many personalities, including a rock singer and a clown and, at the end, becomes born again as the Poet”), the characters in that “fight” also included a young girl, a wife, novelist George Sand, Dionysius, Zarathustra, Pegasus, an eagle, a serpent, three Muses, a group of rugby players, and some motorcyclists. And, Stoop concluded the list, “There’s a great deal of death around, too.” 

The post TBT: Maurice Béjart’s “Difficult” Ballet <i>Dichterliebe</i> appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Morris became interested in cooking as a teenager, helping out his widowed mother. Years of traveling and touring have served to develop his passion. “I can do Indonesian, I can cook a Spanish meal, I can cook Italian food, French food…Chinese I’ve just been starting to get kind of good at,” says Morris. When asked if his approach to cooking has any similarities to his approach to choreography, he answers cheekily, “In that I’m very, very good, yes.” Morris adds that though cooking takes less time than making a dance, they both have ephemeral results. “You cook for hours or days, and then everyone eats it in five minutes,” says Morris. “Same with a dance. I work on it for years, and you’re done in 20 minutes. It’s both true and a joke at the same time.”

Ingredients
Yield: 6 servings

• 5 tbsps canola oil or peanut oil
• 6 whole cardamom pods (black or green)
• 6 whole cloves
• 1 cinnamon stick or 3/4 tsp ground cinnamon
• 3 chili peppers, split in half (jalapeño or Thai, with heat level to taste)
• 1 tbsp grated ginger
• 3 medium red onions or 5 shallots, thinly sliced
• 6 cups any mixed vegetables, cut into about 3/4-inch chunks (Morris recommends any combination of sweet potatoes, eggplant, peas, long beans, pumpkin or squash of any kind, potatoes, carrots, cauliflower, and bell peppers.)
• 5 fresh curry leaves
• 3 cups water
• salt (to taste)
• 3 cups unsweetened
  coconut milk
• 1 tsp peppercorns (red, black, or white), crushed

Instructions

1. Heat the oil in a large saucepan or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add the cardamom pods, cloves, and cinnamon, and stir. After approximately 30 seconds, add the chili peppers, ginger, and onions. Sauté, stirring, until the onions are soft and translucent, about 3 minutes.
2. Add the mixed vegetables, curry leaves, water, and a generous pinch of salt. Cover, reduce the heat to low, and cook until the vegetables are cooked through, about 15–20 minutes.
3. Add the coconut milk and crushed peppercorns. Simmer on very low heat (to avoid curdling) for about 2 more minutes.
4. Serve the stew with rice or papadam (an Indian flatbread made from bean flour).

The post Mark Morris Shares His “Stone Soup” Kerala Vegetable Stew Recipe appeared first on Dance Magazine.

I always try to reflect all my experi­ences, and my way of seeing flamenco, when I am choreographing. I want students to be able to capture and see in the creative process how I feel about flamenco, because since I was a very young child it has been a way of life for me. I always remember my homeland of Granada and my teachers in everything I create.

Working with the musical accom­panists is a joint effort. I give my ideas to the musicians and they give me theirs and thus begins the teamwork for choreography.

Improvisation is central to flamenco. I try steps and choreographic material with the dancers until the desired result is found. Improvisation with musicians is also important because, depending on what they contribute, different choreographic ideas also emerge.

Emotion for me is essential, and I try to make it present in all my choreography.

Expressiveness of the face should come naturally, it’s not something that can be learned or practiced. It is important to imbue the choreography with feelings and the personality that distinguishes each one of us.

When working with students at the university, I begin by focusing on the palo [musical form of flamenco] we’re going to choreograph. I look for something with a similar origin that’s already within the students’ realm of understanding, to capture the essence of the land where the palo originates from. I have choreographed to Tangos de Granada and Alegrías de Cádiz, and I’ve tried to ensure that the essence of those two cities, Granada and Cádiz, is reflected in the choreography and interpretation.

It is important never to see yourself as an island and to seek input and inspiration from those around you. I often go and see the work of my colleagues.

Preparing to work outside flamenco, first I listen to the music that I will interpret. Since I am not in my natural environment, I need to identify and become familiar with it. I then go to the studio and start choreographing. I also seek feedback and advice from dance experts outside the project.

As a professional my schedule is often hectic, but the spontaneity of creation arises at any time because, as an artist, I am always restless.

The post Iván Vargas on Creativity and Inspiration in Flamenco appeared first on Dance Magazine.

As a single working mother, Mom’s dedication amidst the height of the 1970s feminist movement was resolute. The studio often became my sanctuary as she worked passionately for what felt like 24 hours a day. She and her colleagues were on a mission, inspired by Mr. Ailey’s fearless vision, on the verge of international flight. Their solidarity was palpable. It grounded me and many other aspiring artists in the New York dance community at the time.

Surrounded by dancers, from all over the globe—New York locals, talents from Baltimore, Brazil, Eastern Europe, Japan, and beyond—I found a surrogate family in the studio. As a child among them, my youth seemed to bring joy to many who were far away from home. The dancers became my guardians; they nurtured me and supported my development.

One of my most memorable guardians was Pearl Lang, who called me Strawberry Girl, because of my love for strawberry yogurt. Ms. Lang was a Martha Graham dancer who had her own company that my mother danced for at the time. She was also the co-director of The Ailey School alongside Mr. Ailey then, a powerful leading feminist voice in the modern dance movement.

Watching these dancers in their classes began to pique my curiosity. It was as if, through their unapologetic nature and fearless subtleties, they revealed unspoken stories. The more I watched, the more I learned. Their whispers became more tenable and refined. The power of this silent expression, and my developing understanding of unspoken narratives, started to awaken the artistry within me that seemed to transcend gender and race.

My witnessing during these early years laid the foundation for my artistic journey and identity. It anchored my practice in the profound humanity and activism that I saw through others. It evolved into a comprehension of human behavior, people at their most powerful moments and in their most vulnerable ones. It was through their silent eloquence that I began to understand the artistic language of the soul. It was not only seeing their development as artists that moved me deeply, but through watching their process as human beings. As I witnessed this personal process, they became the most beautiful human beings in my eyes. I can still see and feel them living out their dreams through integrity and perseverance, one day at a time.

The post Francesca Harper, Artistic Director of Ailey II, Shares How She Found a Surrogate Family in Dance appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Jodie Gates is an all-too-rare figure in the dance world: an influential female leader. She began as a dancer at The Joffrey Ballet, Pennsylvania Ballet, Frankfurt Ballet under director William Forsythe, and Complexions Contemporary Ballet. Since retiring from the stage, she has built a resumé of unusually broad scope: a choreographer commissioned by Ballet West, The Washington Ballet, and others; founder and artistic director of the Laguna Dance Festival in Southern California; a professor of dance at UC Irvine; founding director and vice dean of the USC Glorya Kaufman School of Dance; and artistic director of Cincinnati Ballet from August 2022 to September 2023. (In a statement, the company described her departure after 14 months as a “mutual decision.”) Here, she offers her perspective to other women leaders in the field.

When I was a dancer, the field was dominated by males. That said, Robert Joffrey gave us a lot of autonomy. The agency that we had at The Joffrey Ballet helped shape me; when I direct and curate, I see in myself what Robert and Bill Forsythe gave me. After I retired, I was one of the few female choreographers in ballet.

I believe that my motivation and tenacity over the years were fueled by the lack of female leadership. Women have a different perspective that has been excluded for decades, and it is only going to benefit the field moving forward to have varying opinions and perspectives. I wore the pointe shoes; I danced Giselle. I can pass it on. It gives female dancers someone to identify with.

I would love to see more females creating full-length ballets. I still don’t feel like these opportunities are there. Is it because there are not enough females interested in doing it? Perhaps, so I think we need to mentor and have a creative space for that. It’s imperative that we hear from women.

We need to recognize what harm has been done generationally, such as mentoring that young male dancer to be a choreographer, but not that female dancer. We need to really look at how we are in the studio with one another, the language we use, how we can bring a sense of humanity into the room.

When you’re in the role of leading, it’s a hard job. You have to manifest success while listening to everyone. I think women leaders are perhaps judged more harshly than our male counterparts. What I would like to see is more opportunities, more communication. I see more women leading in academia, and that is changing.

The stakes are high for women, but it’s okay to fail—it’s okay to make a dance and fail, or make a decision and fail, and take accountability for it. Be patient. Learning as you go is difficult. Mentorship is key—don’t be afraid of asking for help. Most importantly, lean on us—lean on the individuals who have a breadth of experience. That sisterhood is a place of belonging.

Maybe it’s up to me to open my arms and say, “I’m here.” I would love to be able to help the next generation of creative thinkers and leaders. In this season of my life, it’s about, How can I be of service to the field? To be truly impactful, it needs shape-shifters and change-makers to move it forward.

The post Director and Choreographer Jodie Gates Shares Her Advice for Female Leaders in Dance appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Tacy’s experiences aren’t unusual, especially for dancers who are experiencing a dramatic ramp up in their activity level. Joshua Metzl, an orthopedic sports medicine physician at UCHealth Steadman Hawkins Clinic who works with dancers at Colorado Ballet, says that increasing the amount of time spent training—and the resulting potential for overuse—is the leading cause of plantar fasciitis among dancers.

What Is Plantar Fasciitis?

Plantar fasciitis is an inflammation of thick tissue on the bottom of the foot called plantar fascia. It often shows up in dancers as pain in the heel, especially when doing weight-bearing exercise. Metzl notes that it’s often most painful first thing in the morning, and symptoms can ebb and flow throughout the day.

In addition to a sudden increase in activity levels, plantar fasciitis can also be triggered by changes in footwear, like switching from pointe to flat shoes. The quality of the studio floor or performance surface can have an impact. Outside of the studio, walking more than normal and/or on different types of surfaces can lead to plantar fasciitis.

Although plantar fasciitis is common amongst dancers, there are other conditions that could be causing similar pain. Metzl explains that the bones of the feet could also be to blame, with common bone-related plantar fasciitis doppelgangers instead being calcaneal stress fractures and calcaneal apophysitis, an inflammation of the growth plate in a younger dancer’s heel. An X-ray can help determine the root cause of this kind of foot pain.

Treatment and Healing

Treatment for plantar fasciitis usually involves working with a physical therapist to establish a daily stretching and strengthening program for the plantar fascia, Metzl says, adding that if the condition is more chronic and doesn’t respond to initial treatment, an MRI, corticosteroid injection, and/or a platelet-rich plasma injection, which acts as a localized anti-inflammatory, might be used as well.

At the onset of symptoms, Tacy recommends taking over-the-counter anti-inflammatories to ease pain, as well as employing gentle massage techniques. She says that icing—either by simply applying an ice pack to the bottom of the foot or by gently rolling out the sole with a frozen water bottle—can be helpful.

It’s also important to be strategic about daily footwear. Metzl says wearing orthotics or arch supports in your shoes can relieve symptoms by off-loading pressure from the plantar fascia. Tacy found that choosing shoes with a wide toe, which better mimics the natural shape of the foot, proved helpful. In more severe cases, a walking boot might also be recommended. Although plantar fasciitis does not always necessitate time off from dance, don’t underestimate the power of rest to ease and prevent pain. “There’s a really great saying: ‘If you don’t choose when to rest your body, your body will choose for you,’ ” Tacy says.

It’s All Connected

When plantar fasciitis is severe, dancers might decide to modify their technique to mitigate pain. Although this might feel like a way to muscle through class or rehearsal, both Metzl and Tacy agree that this approach can cause more issues down the line. “The term we use in orthopedics is ‘kinetic chain’—all of these structures in the body are interconnected,” Metzl says. This means that untreated plantar fasciitis has the potential to lead to pain in other areas of the body, like the knees, calves, hips, and low back.

When Tacy was dancing professionally in New York City, she suffered a serious injury that sidelined her for months. Although the injury involved an accident with a set piece and wasn’t directly related to plantar fasciitis, she believes that imbalances caused by her foot pain were a contributing factor to injury severity and recovery time. “As soon as I graduated college and got my first job, lo and behold, the foot that was most affected by plantar fasciitis was the one that I injured,” she says. “Looking back, I can see how it’s all connected. If I had taken care of my plantar fasciitis and strengthened and healed my foot in the correct way, I don’t think that my injury later would have been as severe or would have needed as much care.”

Two Stretches for Plantar Fasciitis

Joshua Metzl, an orthopedic sports medicine physician who works with Colorado Ballet dancers, recommends these two stretches for dancers suffering from plantar fasciitis.

Calf stretch with a towel roll

1. Roll one edge of a towel.
2. Stand on the towel with one foot, with the rolled portion under your toes and metatarsal and the flat portion under your heel.
3. Assume a small lunge position, with the back leg straight and on the towel, and the front leg slightly bent.

FHL tendon glide

The flexor hallucis longus (FHL) tendon connects the calf to the big toe and plays a big role in pointing the toes and standing on pointe.

1. Place your feet flat on the floor.
2. Keeping the heel and ball of your foot in contact with the floor, lift the toes.

The post How to Identify and Treat Plantar Fasciitis appeared first on Dance Magazine.

With her elongated limbs and polished port de bras, Clark is a remarkably self-possessed dancer who uses her 5′ 10 1/2″ frame to fully inhabit every choreographic moment and musical note. She debuted in a slew of roles in 2023, including the Tall Girl in George Balanchine’s “Rubies” and the lead woman in Haieff Divertimento, which hadn’t been performed by NYCB since 1994. As more opportunities continue to come her way, Clark is determined to squeeze as much as possible out of each experience: “My overarching goal is always to continue growing—in my technique, my artistry, and my approach to new roles.”

Embracing the Unfamiliar
“I love exploring different movement styles, even if they’re not my forte. When I was rehearsing Justin Peck’s sneaker ballet The Times Are Racing, I had to tackle questions like ‘How does my weight need to be distributed differently in a sneaker versus a pointe shoe?’ or ‘How can I syncopate the steps and accent certain moments that reveal different aspects of the music?’ ”

Using Imagination as a Tool
“As an English major at Columbia University, I love storytelling. When preparing for a role, I imagine a character or story to inform my movement. Even for something plotless like Haieff Divertimento or ‘Rubies,’ there’s a certain flavor to each part. It’s helpful to think about steps in terms of analogies and images, ranging from moving my hands through water to embodying a strand of seaweed in the ocean.”

A Recurring Pinch-Me Moment
“Dancing Balanchine’s Serenade always feels like a career-reaffirming experience. I’ve performed it for many seasons, and every time, it hits me that I’m living in the tableau I dreamed of for so long. It’s such a community-based ballet, and one of my favorite things about this career is connecting with the dancers around me—they’re my best friends and greatest sources of inspiration. To dance as part of a group, especially in a ballet containing so much meaning and joy, will always be a highlight.”

The post New York City Ballet Dancer Christina Clark Is Celebrating Every Stage appeared first on Dance Magazine.

I’ve had to, and I still have to, overcome so many adversities in dance. But one thing I am proud of is that, no matter what happens, giving up has never been an option for me. As an artist you learn how to develop love, patience, space, and a deep understanding of why you do what you do.

How does dance make me feel? Is it even a feeling, or is it a moment, a dream, a reality? I only know that I am myself fully when I am onstage dancing. That’s where I feel safe and right at home.

As a Black Latina, immigrant, mother, and woman I carry so much culture and so many ancestors. I embrace all of them. They make me unique, and I bring them to my dance, making it unique.

Over the years my relationship with dance has changed drastically. There have been many ups and downs, disappointments and moments of great happiness, especially after becoming a mother. I can’t quite explain, but I feel more powerful when I am onstage, because onstage I can just be an artist. I don’t have to prove anything. Choosing this art form has given my life a new purpose.

Dance to me is connection, creativity, love, a way to tell a story, and that’s why I do it. But I also see dance as a type of transformation. I continue to expand my artistry on- and offstage. I’m working to change the future of dance.

The post Dance Theatre of Harlem’s Ingrid Silva Shares How She Feels Safe and at Home When Dancing Onstage appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Greta is not real. She’s the personification of the creative idea, as imagined by the Soles of Duende trio: Castro, Brinda Guha, and Arielle Rosales. Other times, a dancer might call out “parking lot,” to table an idea they don’t have time for, or “mangu,” which is the name of a mashed plantain dish and signals they’re too drained or overloaded to think clearly. 

Any group develops their own lingo after spending hours together. But for three dancers working in different physical languages—kathak (Guha), flamenco (Rosales), and tap (Castro)—this shared verbal lexicon streamlines the creative process. “They don’t share the same style, but they share the same kind of creative energy,” says tap dancer Jason Samuels Smith, who recently worked with the trio during a residency at the Chelsea Factory in New York City. “Some collaborations can feel forced. But with them, you feel the chemistry, you feel the camaraderie.” And at a moment when cross-cultural conversations can feel fraught, these artists are showcasing the power of embracing our differences.      

Distinct Voices in Harmony

Soles of Duende, or “Soles” as the dancers call it, started in 2016 when Guha and Rosales had an opportunity to perform at Dixon Place. The pair had met as colleagues at Broadway Dance Center and had already done a few projects together, and they wanted to weave in an additional percussive dance voice this time. “We needed a third sound so it wasn’t just a back-and-forth, but a conversation amongst a team,” says Guha. Then, at Run The Night, a commercial dance competition led by Jared Grimes, Guha watched Castro set the audience afire with a tap dance solo to an excerpt of “Winter,” from Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. She knew she’d found their third voice.   

The first time all three gathered as a group was for a publicity-photo shoot for the piece they hadn’t begun rehearsing for yet. Still, the vibes flowed. “It was like we were all long-lost friends,” says Guha.

The work they created was a hit, and they were asked to perform it again…and again. “People want to see virtuosity in music and rhythm that doesn’t include machismo and competition,”­ says Guha. By 2018, Soles was back at Dixon Place as artists in residence creating the first iteration of their full-length work Can We Dance Here? That work has since become­ a calling card, with the latest version taking the stage at The Joyce Theater this January as part of the American Dance Platform. 

In the audience of that 2018 run was critic and curator Eva Yaa Asantewaa, who, wowed by their vivacity and generosity as performers, would later commission Soles for Gibney’s Spotlight Series in New York City. “I was completely won over, not only by their individual technical and aesthetic capabilities but also by the seamless, joyful way they blended these discrete percussive dance styles and energies,” she says.

Experimentation and Negotiation

In Soles’ work, the dancers sometimes “pass the mic” back and forth, and sometimes dance in unison. But much of the magic happens when they each tackle the same rhythm in their own style, showcasing just how many similarities live within their differences. “We hear music very similarly often, but the way we physically execute the step is very different,” Rosales says. To get a better sense of each other’s weight distribution, the three will sometimes put on each other’s shoes, or Guha’s ghungroo ankle bells, and do traditional warm-ups in each other’s forms. 

Choreographing is a constant negotiation—with each other, and with how they represent their forms. “We have a Boricua from Connecticut doing tap dance. We have a Mexican Jew who grew up on the Lower East Side doing flamenco. We have a Bengali American who’s learning a North Indian classical dance form in New Jersey,” says Guha. “Are we even allowed to make these artistic decisions? And when do we move forward with and without blessings, and when do we experiment in good faith?” Those questions are part of what informed the title of Can We Dance Here? (The other part is more literal: The trio has often been offered residencies, but told they couldn’t make noise and wouldn’t have a percussive floor.)

All three are very aware that work in historically marginalized forms must be done with integrity. “Even when we have choreographic disagreements, we’re like, ‘Well, why do you feel like that?’ And then we end up having an hour-long conversation about history and why this step is this way,” says Castro. 

Yes, They Can Dance Here

Today, Soles also includes three live musicians. They’re treated as both a band and a dance group, which can open up opportunities at many types of venues but can also sometimes mean performing on small stages with amazing sound quality but little space to move. Now, with a 2023 Bessie nomination for Outstanding Breakout Choreographer and rave reviews in The New York Times, they’re hoping to get the best of both worlds soon. This year, the group is wrapping up the final performances of Can We Dance Here? and working on a new feature-length work to premiere in 2025. 

They’ve stopped asking for permission to dance because, wherever they are, they know they’ll find a way to do it. “Even when we wait for the train to go back home, we’ll hear the subway and we’ll just start clapping,” says Rosales. “And now we’re jamming and stomping and doing vocals to the sound of the train going by. That’s how we hang out.”

Meet the Trio: Amanda Castro

When people ask Amanda Castro what kind of dancer she is, she likes to tell them “I’m a storyteller.” 

She could also say she was that BFA student who choreographed tap dance numbers at the experimental California Institute of the Arts, even after the dean told her not to. Or that she followed four years at Urban Bush Women with stints in a regional production of In the Heights and as Anita in a tour of West Side Story. Or that she now works with heavy-hitting tap dance stars like Ayodele Casel, Dormeshia, Jason Samuels Smith, Jared Grimes, Caleb Teicher, and others. She could mention being one of Dance Magazine’s “25 to Watch” in 2023, and winning a Bessie for Outstanding Performer later that year. 

But she sticks with what she sees as her mission as a dancer: to tell stories. “Yes, there are different languages, which are the different styles of dance,” she says. “But I’m here to provide a service to the people.”

Meet the Trio: Brinda Guha

Collaboration has long driven Brinda Guha’s work. It’s even why she fell in love with kathak itself. “I realized how kathak was a confluence of Hindu and Muslim cultures and religions, how it exemplifies how people actually work together and live together and express together and make music together,” she says. 

Today, in addition to her work as a dancer and company manager with Soles of Duende, Guha is the artistic director of contemporary Indian dance ensemble Kalamandir Dance Company, curator of arts showcase Wise Fruit NYC, and senior producing coordinator for Dance/NYC. Her main goals are to investigate what makes any art form contemporary and to work from a place that’s driven by the feminine divine, whether in the exploration of contemporary Indian dance in her personal dance practice or through collaboration. 

To better understand the essen­tial elements of dance, she’s sought out practitioners from other forms.  It’s why she first decided to collaborate with Arielle Rosales. “There was this dialogue around where our personal styles found a way to speak to each other cohesively, and when they were in dissonance,” Guha says. That dialogue has only grown deeper through her work in Soles. 

Meet the Trio: Arielle Rosales

On her website, Arielle Rosales calls herself a “social engagement performing artist.” It was a term she chose, she says, because she could never find the right words to describe her work: “Just saying ‘flamenco dancer’ felt inaccurate.” 

In addition to pushing the boundaries of flamenco, Rosales is a percussionist with an all-woman Afro-Brazilian band, and she once ran a multicultural dance school in East Harlem called House of Duende (which hosted some of Soles of Duende’s first rehearsals and led to the group’s name). The phrase “social engagement” also felt like it better encompassed her love of engaging directly with the audi­ence through site-specific work and the lecture-demonstrations she does with Flamenco Vivo Carlota Santana. 

Still, Rosales admits that the term initially came out of a place of fear that her experimentations with the form meant she didn’t fully qualify­ as a flamenco dancer. But that’s changed. “Over the seven years with Soles, because we are so intentional about what traditional things we’re using, and when we’re breaking the rules, in that journey of integrity, now I will call myself a flamenco dancer fully,” she says. “I don’t feel any more like anyone can take that away from me.” 

The post Sole Sisters: The Cross-Cultural Collaboration Soles of Duende Offers Just the Kind of Art We Need Right Now appeared first on Dance Magazine.

But attend a Company 360 Dance Theatre performance and the tables are turned. The Fredericksburg, Virginia–based company, led by choreographer Bailey Anne Vincent, who is Deaf, incorporates American Sign Language into all its productions. “If you’re a Deaf person, you’re in on the story more than a hearing person,” says Vincent.

For Vincent, using ASL in her choreography—which might mean incorporating a sign to emphasize an emotion a character is feeling, or to communicate what a lyric is saying—is both an artistic choice and an accessibility-related one. Though her audience is mostly hearing, “I still try to approach all our shows assuming there might be someone who is Deaf in the audience,” she says. But it’s also just a natural extension of the fact that ASL is Vincent’s preferred language. “When I choreograph, the way that my mind thinks is in my own language,” she says. “So even if I don’t want it to, sign finds its way into whatever I’m choreographing. It can’t really be extracted.”

Deaf actress and dancer Alexandria Wailes feels similarly. “Dance and using ASL are both so embedded in who I am, as part of my identity,” says Wailes through an interpreter. “I can’t really separate one from the other.”

For artists, like Vincent and Wailes, who are fluent in both the actual language of ASL and the proverbial one of dance, the intersection of the two embodied forms offers limitless creative potential, and the vital opportunity­ to make accessibility efforts less perfunctory and more integrated and enriching. Though incorporating ASL into choreographic work is not a new phenomenon—Deaf-led companies and Deaf artists have long done it—it’s becoming increasingly common on increasingly mainstream stages.

To get a sense of the deepening relationship between dance and ASL, look at choreographer and performer Brandon Kazen-Maddox’s career thus far. A GODA (grandchild of Deaf adults) and native ASL signer, Kazen-Maddox was long one of the New York City performing arts scene’s go-to interpreters, a reliable presence at performances, talkbacks, and more.

But in 2019, choreographer Kayla Hamilton asked Kazen-Maddox to join her New York Live Arts Fresh Tracks piece not as an interpreter but as an artist. “She asked me to represent all sounds in sign language, and also use my body as a dancer,” says Kazen-Maddox. “It was the most mind-shifting thing for me, because I was seen as an artist and a dancer and a performer, and was also representing in sign language everything that was happening.”

The experience was the beginning of a shift in Kazen-Maddox’s career, away from simply facilitating communication between­ Deaf and hearing individuals as an interpreter­ and towards an emerging genre Kazen-Maddox calls “American Sign Language dance theater.” But it was also indicative of a wider shift in the performing arts, one that is more artistically fulfilling for Deaf and ASL-fluent artists and that also repositions accessibility: Rather than something tacked on to and separate from the performance, it is something deeply ingrained and integrated.

Always key to this work, says Wailes: Deaf or Hard of Hearing performers who are “bilingual” in dance and ASL. “If you’re trying to be more inclusive, great,” she says. “Who are the people who are onstage? What are their lived experiences and how does this reveal itself­ in the work? We should continue to push towards­ the embracing of more people who have never been welcomed in these spaces.”

The Question of the Audience: Who Is It For?

Until recently, Betsy Quillen experienced performances for Deaf audiences and hearing audiences separately. “It’s one or the other—it’s very isolated,” says Quillen, who is a Hard of Hearing actor and theater director. “There are Deaf shows, and there are hearing shows, and very rarely do the two feel comfortable together.”

So when choreographer William Smith asked Quillen to collaborate with him on a piece for Roanoke Ballet Theatre that incorporated sign language, they had a clear goal: to make something that both Deaf and hearing audiences could understand and enjoy. “My specific role was making sure that Deaf eyes would understand it, and that we were making our Deaf audiences feel welcomed and included and respected,” says Quillen. “But we also made sure to show our hearing audience that this piece is made even more beautiful because we’ve included the Deaf audiences—that all of this ASL in every part of the production is enhancing the experience for everybody in the audience.”

The question of who a production is for, and how many in the audience will be fluent in ASL, isn’t always a straightforward one, says Alexandria Wailes, a Deaf dancer who blended dance and ASL in the recent Broadway revival of for colored girls who have considered suicide/when the rainbow is enuf. “Most of the time, it’s going to be people who don’t know ASL,” she says through an interpreter. “So what does that mean, in terms of what I’m sharing? I’m very aware that most of the audience is probably not going to quickly understand what I am saying. I just have to express it.”

But even that imperfect understanding can spur new ways of thinking. “The reactions I received from a lot of people after shows—their brains had shifted,” says Wailes. “For me, that was really exciting, because it means my work is encouraging people to think outside of what they’re used to experiencing with dance and signing.”

“ASL Is a Language, Not Just Something You Look At”

For artists and audiences who are not fluent in ASL, signs can sometimes be indistinguishable from choreography. And when hearing artists and audiences value how signs look over what they mean, the fusion of dance and ASL can become offensive rather than enriching. Antoine Hunter PurpleFireCrow, founder and director of Urban Jazz Dance Company and the Bay Area International Deaf Dance Festival, gives the example of a hearing choreographer asking him to “reverse” a sign because it would look cool, which then made it meaningless or changed it into a distasteful word.

“When people who are not native signers see ASL incorporated with movement, they’re like, ‘Oh my gosh, it’s so beautiful,’ ” says Alexandria Wailes, a Deaf dancer and actor, through an interpreter. “Which is valid in its own right, but ASL is a language that is tied to culture, communities, and history. It’s not just something that you look at or do because it feels cool and it’s beautiful.”

That doesn’t mean ASL always has to be used literally, or that it can’t be an opportunity for experimentation. In fact, the expectation that ASL be completely legible in an artistic setting can limit Deaf artists, when there’s no similar expectation that spoken language in performance always be logical or straightforward. (For instance, it’s not uncommon for performers to say absurd sentences, or experiment with strange deliveries.)

“The forcing of it to be legible, or to be understood, is not allowing for the people who live it to speak their truth,” says Yusha-Marie Sorzano, a Hard of Hearing choreographer who collaborated on a 2020 solo for Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater performer Samantha Figgins that incorporated ASL.

For Hunter, this might look like using signs that are actually the total opposite of what the lyrics of the song are conveying. “As with any other language, ASL can be used poetically, rhythmically, artistically, metaphorically,” shares Hunter.

“I think it’s really beautiful when you begin to weave languages, because in the weaving comes the new word,” Sorzano says. “How fascinating is it that a sign that represents ‘I am’ can be woven next to a renversé? And does that become a new way of being­ ‘I am’? There’s this beauty in what happens when you build something new.”

The post How Dance Artists are Fusing ASL With Choreography appeared first on Dance Magazine.

When Collins was interviewed for Dance Magazine’s February 1954 issue, she was in her third season with the opera while using her downtime to prepare the concert-dance programs she toured around the country during the off-seasons. She recalled auditioning for Léonide Massine as a teenager and being offered a place with the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo, which she turned down because “for the corps de ballet, he said he’d have to paint me white.” After, she said, she “cried for an hour. And went back to the barre.”

Asked how she resolved her dual training in ballet and modern dance, she said: “There is no conflict. You need both to extend the range of the body. The illusion you communicate while dancing depends on what you feel about your dance. For instance, I love Mozart. For that I need elevation and lightness, which I’ve learned from ballet. I love spirituals, too, and for that there is modern dance and a feeling of the earth.” 

The post TBT: Why Black Ballerina Janet Collins Turned Down the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo appeared first on Dance Magazine.

The Nuts and Bolts

If you get the job, how much will it pay? “Some small companies offer salaries that are barely above the poverty line,” says Boston Ballet dancer Courtney Nitting. “Consider, if you take a contract, will you need a second job? Do you want to live with a roommate? Will you be able to save any money for your future?” It’s also worth finding out whether the contract includes benefits such as health insurance or perks like shoes and access to physical therapy.

Your financial line in the sand might be different than someone else’s—and it might shift as you mature. When you’re starting out, you might find value in working for exposure and connections. Still, be wary of being taken advantage of. “Taking a job shouldn’t feel like sacrificing your worth or your body,” says theater dancer Caylie Rose Newcom, who most recently worked as assistant dance captain and swing for Radio City’s Christmas Spectacular.

On that note, consider each gig’s time commitment. How many performances or weeks are included in the contract? Will you do community outreach as well as main-stage productions? How many days a week will you be dancing? Will you tour?

Some of this may depend on whether a job is union or nonunion. “A union company provides more benefits and protections,” says Virginie Mécène, director of Graham 2. “There are rules the management must follow about hours, travel, and benefits.” Nonunion gigs, on the other hand, may offer more flexibility. For example, Mécène recalls touring with Battery Dance Company and being able to book extra performances on the fly. “That couldn’t happen in a union company,” she says. “Everything must be organized in advance.”

The People Factor

It’s normal for a show or company to experience dancer turnover—but is there such a thing as too much turnover? “Nowadays, dancers don’t tend to stay in one place as long as they used to,” Mécène observes, “but if there are a lot of people leaving a job at the same time or quite quickly, that’s something to investigate.” Auditioning for an organization that doesn’t retain dancers can be a risky proposition.

The same goes for turnover within the administration. One director change can be a breath of fresh air, but multiple changes in only a few years can signal problems. Plus, “if you audition for a company and they get a new director, you might not be the type of dancer they’re looking to change the company to,” Nitting says. Gabrielle Collins, a dancer with Smuin Contemporary Ballet, adds that with a new director, “the current dancers are also auditioning to keep their place in the company,” which can make the environment feel both competitive and unstable.

What should you look for, in terms of the people you’ll be working with? Nitting likes seeing a mix of older, more experienced performers and new professionals. “That shows that there’s room for growth,” she explains. It’s also important to have higher-ups that listen and care. “It’s not a good sign if you don’t feel comfortable speaking openly with the director or choreographer about something you need,” says freelance performer Ida Saki, whose credits include Bob Fosse’s DANCIN’ on Broadway. “It’s important to be in a room with good people.”

The Intangibles

To get a sense of what it would be like to work under a director or choreographer before you audition, try to join them for an open or master class. “See how they lead the room,” Newcom says. “There have been times I’ve taken a class with someone, and that experience told me whether I’d want to do a whole show with them.” For concert dancers, this might mean doing an intensive, or asking to take company class or observe a rehearsal.

Call on your network in the dance community for insider information. “You probably have a friend of a friend in a company—and if you don’t, you can reach out to people on social media,” Collins says. Getting personal anecdotes about a job or director can help you narrow down your list of auditions.

And remember: What’s right for someone else may not be right for you. “My partner is a dancer,” Saki says, “and what he wants is a solid, steady, yearlong contract. I want to be diversified in my work. I want to fit as much as I can into each year. Everybody’s different!” Give your own wants and needs a lot of thought before showing up in the audition room, and you’ll stand a stronger chance of landing a job where you’ll thrive.

Warning Signs

How can you tell a company is experiencing financial strain? Look for these potential red flags before you audition:

• Fewer performances scheduled than last year
• Less (or no) touring planned this year
• Layoffs within the organization (dancers and/or staff)
• Facilities are outdated or in need of repair
• Cutbacks on perks such as free shoes and physical therapy

The post What to Consider Before Auditioning for a Potential Employer appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Figgins trained at the legendary Jones-Haywood School of Ballet (now Jones-Haywood Dance School) in Washington, DC, then danced leading roles as a member of Dance Theatre of Harlem and performed in the Broadway shows Motown: The Musical and Memphis, among others. Her focus now is on creating caring environments for dancers, and she’s guiding Ballet Tech’s recent initiative to make dance education more accessible in New York City’s public schools.

Dancing is important regardless of whether you’re going to do it professionally or not. Ballet Tech Across New York is about students having a truly enriching experience with dance. Obviously, our hope is that students will graduate from Ballet Tech and use their training to continue pursuing dance and the performing arts, but what about all the students who choose to not pursue performative arts? How are we engaging them? C​reating a safe environment for people to explore dance​ encourages people to remain involved in ​the dance​ community.

We’re giving something back to these communities that are allowing us to come into their schools to identify potential students for our program. These enrichment programs allow us the opportunity to see beyond what the physical body looks like to all the other components that make a dancer a dancer: creativity, musicality, coordination, and the ability to follow directions. An audition process could feel extractive, like we’re going in identifying students who have talent and taking them out of their communities. Now, we’re making sure all the students have a really great experience with dance.

Ballet Tech Across New York offers­ two different tracks. There are schools that already have dance built into their programming, and those schools might want something that’s a little more rigorous, our BT Ballet Basics. The second track, Dance for EveryBODY, lets everybody know that they can dance. The reality is that some bodies don’t want to ​have a straight​ened knee or a pointed foot, or turnout, and th​ose bodies should ​also be able to access dance. In the Dance for EveryBODY class, we do some creative movement, some improvisation, some isolations, and some ballet ​steps, as well.

I’m trying to provide students with what I would have wanted for myself and my peers when I was training. I grew up learning ballet in a predominantly ​Black ​dance community​. I didn’t have to assimilate and leave my cultural expressions of movement​ at the studio door, an experience I have heard time and time again from other Black dance professionals training in predominantly white ballet spaces. ​

When you are Black in ballet, it’s even more pressing to be able to have a critical, intellectual conversation about ballet, because you might not be taken seriously in certain spaces if you can’t. I want students to have as much language and as much learning as possible. Can ​we be critical about stories like Swan Lake? It’s a super-problematic story: Von Rothbart is keeping all these women against their wil​l. Being critical of these works allows us to breathe new life into them, making them more accessible and relatable to this generation.

Dance is not specific for any particular body type or cultural group. It’s something that all of us can enjoy. Sometimes people conflate “ballet” with “dance.” But ballet is just one way people dance, not the only way. I want to give students as much information as possible, so they have as many options as possible as they enter the ever-evolving world of dance.

The post Dionne Figgins on Providing Supportive Dance Education in New York City Public Schools appeared first on Dance Magazine.

The types of pieces I write for the magazine range from features to columns (like Dancer Diary) to cover stories. Today I’ll zoom in on “Sole Stories,” a feature I wrote for the February print edition of the magazine. In it, I chat with tap dancer and Dorrance Dance artistic director Michelle Dorrance about her tap shoes, New York City Ballet corps de ballet dancer Olivia Boisson about her pointe shoes, and heels dancer, teacher, and choreographer Hector Invictus Lopez about his heels.

Once my editor assigned the story, I brainstormed dancers who might have meaningful things to say on the topic. I pitched some options and we landed on these three stellar artists—chosen not just because they’re wildly talented but because their relationships with their shoes speak to larger discussions about identity, movement quality, and sound. I won’t spoil too much about my interviews with the dancers—you’ll have to order the magazine or follow this link—but I will say that they all had particularly interesting things to say. Then, we got the dancers into the studio with the extraordinary photographer Quinn Wharton and created some magic. (But for real, check out the images!)

Dorrance’s feet moved like lightning in her Lower East Side rehearsal space. She was even generous enough to teach me a tap step or two. Boisson’s endless lines lit up the School of American Ballet studios. She touched on the value of having pointe shoes that match her skin tone, and graciously filled us in on where to find the best paper towels for makeshift toe pads. (Where else but in the David H. Koch Theater bathrooms?) And Hector Invictus Lopez brought unmatched vibes to his photo shoot at Broadway Dance Center. Despite hardly sleeping the night before—he’d been performing until the wee hours of the morning)—he was kicking to the gods, serving face, and blasting Beyoncé at 8 am.

Once all of the interviews and photo shoots were done, I sat down in a quiet space and wrote the piece. I submitted it to my editor and she responded with thoughtful edits. After some revisions, she sent the piece to Dance Magazine’s fact-checking and proofreading teams to get it squeaky clean. Then the story and photos went off to the printer along with the rest of the fabulous February issue.

Even after six years, when I open my mailbox and find the magazine inside, my heart does a little leap. This month was no exception!

For a look at each of these dancers in action, head on over to Dance Magazine’s YouTube channel for my latest vlog.

The post Dancer Diary: What It’s Like to Write for <i>Dance Magazine</i> appeared first on Dance Magazine.

The time away gave Martins a sense of perspective and left her feeling refreshed. After she recovered from her injury, she auditioned again—and, finally, landed a coveted spot in Moses’ troupe.

Martins’ story is not unique. These days, auditioning two, three, four, or more times isn’t an anomaly—it’s often the norm. “In this industry you get told ‘no’ all the time, so auditioning is your job,” says Houston-based musical theater dancer Courtney Chilton. Depending on what corner of the dance scene you’re in, “You might spend more time auditioning than on contracts.”

Learning how to weather the emotional storm that often accompanies repeated rejection is a challenge. But doing so can lead to fulfilling opportunities. Consider these mindset shifts as you navigate return auditions.

It’s Just the Nature of the Beast

Radio City Rockette Ashley Kasunich Fritz auditioned a total of six times for the Rockettes before finally getting accepted in 2011. Now in her 13th season, she says that six auditions isn’t actually that uncommon in Rockette world these days: “The choreography is so specific, and there’s not a ton of rehearsal time, so you need to be able to match other people right away.”

“It’s the nature of the beast,” says Chilton. As a cast member and dance captain for regional and touring productions, such as South Pacific, Mary Poppins, and Elf, she remembers periods when she would book about one in 50 auditions. “And that was pretty good!” she says. In musical theater, where a casting director may see hundreds of dancers for one part, competition is especially fierce. Knowing that going in can help temper the frustration and disappointment when you find yourself auditioning repeatedly.

It’s Not You (Necessarily)

Though it’s important to be as prepared as possible for any audition, recognize that there will be many variables directors are considering as they make selections, some of which are unrelated to your dancing. A casting director may need something or someone hyper-specific at a particular moment. That doesn’t mean you aren’t right for the company or show—it just might not be your time.

“So many things have nothing to do with what you did in the room,” says Chilton. “You have to acknowledge that there will be plenty of times when they just want someone two inches taller.”

There Are Advantages to Auditioning Again

Despite the prior rejection, being a returning auditionee has its perks: familiarity with the company or show’s people, process, and choreographic style; the accompanying confidence that comes with that familiarity; and the opportunity to demonstrate your tenacity and dedication by coming back.

Both Chilton and Julie Branam, director of the Christmas Spectacular Starring the Radio City Rockettes, agree that in most scenarios, directors look favorably on returnees. “You’re building familiarity and building relationships,” says Chilton. Branam agrees: “I love seeing dancers come back. I love to see when a dancer has really worked and is improving and is getting it.” Kasunich Fritz remembers getting cut in the first round at her first Rockettes audition, but making it further and further through the process each time, which helped boost her confidence. “The director could see where I started and where I progressed to,” she says. “Going through the process multiple times, they really get to know you.”

Similarly, getting face time with current company members and fellow auditionees can help demonstrate how well you work with others and give you some much needed social support as you navigate the audition process. “I saw other dancers who had auditioned multiple times as well,” says Kasunich Fritz. “You start to build a community. Since the dance world is small, it creates friendship and camaraderie.”

Protect Your Self-Esteem

It’s natural to feel disappointed when you get told “no,” but remember that one “no” doesn’t determine your worth as an artist or your future in the dance field. Acknowledge your feelings, and figure out self-care strategies that work for you.

The people in your support network, from friends and family members to fellow dancers, can be powerful boosters as you get back on the horse, offering a sense of perspective and affirming your talent and worth. “Find your people. Find your friends,” Chilton says. “Find someone who is going to go get a cookie with you after the audition.”

In the end, stay focused on what drove you to audition in the first place. “If you give up right away, you’re only hurting yourself,” Martins says. “It pays off to keep on going back, especially when it’s a company you feel connected to.”

Leveraging What You’ve Learned

When you’re auditioning for a company, show, or program for a second (or third, fourth, or fifth) time, applying the lessons learned from your previous rejection(s) is key. Here are three tips for setting yourself up for success as you audition again.

1. Record yourself doing combinations from the audition. One of the most helpful strategies for Rockette Ashley Kasunich Fritz was finding studio space and videotaping herself doing the combinations she had learned at the audition. “I would videotape them, watch them, check my angles, go over them, and then repeat the process, much like what we do in rehearsals now,” she says. “It was all about building that muscle memory through repetition.”
2. Take classes in the style of the show, program, or company. It’s possible that you may just need more time with the movement style or choreography in question. Elena Martins, dancer with Robert Moses’ Kin, remembers just how new and different Moses’ style felt to her when she first moved to the Bay Area. “I loved the style, but I get why he didn’t hire me right away,” she says. “It was just so different from what I had done before.” Over time, she grew more comfortable with Moses’ aesthetic and eventually joined his company.
3. Incorporate feedback. Many company and casting directors offer corrections and feedback during an audition. Take note! Rockettes director Julie Branam intentionally gives dancers feedback during auditions to see how they will respond. “As we get further into the audition process, we give specific notes to see if they can make the adjustment,” she says. “That’s part of the job. We do notes until the show closes because that’s how we keep the shows clean.”

The post If at First You Don’t Succeed…Learn How to Navigate Return Auditions appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Current project: Madonna’s The Celebration Tour

Age: 30

Hometown: Layton, Utah

Training: Dance Impressions (Farmington, Utah), New York City Dance Alliance, Marymount Manhattan College

Accolades: Chita Rivera Award for Outstanding Dancer in a Broadway Show, for Bob Fosse’s DANCIN’

Inspiring others: Andy Pellick vividly remembers noticing Love’s “special sauce” when she was around 12 years old taking his jazz class at NYCDA. Over the years since, when working on choreography “she gives you what you didn’t know you wanted,” he says. “She inspires a choreographer or a teacher or another dancer by doing moves in a way that you didn’t even know was possible. She’s able to be a muse for a lot of people, myself included.”

Swing success: Love was an ensemble dancer in the national tour of Wicked before the pandemic shutdown, and when the show returned, she rejoined as a swing. “The more tracks I learned, it was actually easier to remember them all, because I could understand where everyone was at any given time,” she says. “Swinging almost feels like an out-of-body experience. I can see things in slow motion.”

Dancin’ dreams: Love won a Chita Rivera Award for last year’s Broadway run of Bob Fosse’s DANCIN’. “That show is the dancer’s dream,” she says. “It’s so visceral but also nuanced, and it captured all the essences of what I want to be and portray.” She also loved her castmates. “It’s a game changer when you like everyone you work with and there is a real camaraderie. That’s the first show where I fully got to be myself. We all did.”

Exploring the world: When Love joined Madonna’s world tour—currently running through April, with 79 stops across Europe and North America—it took time to get used to the schedule, which sometimes includes rehearsals until 2 or 3 am. (The choreography is credited to a who’s who of creative minds, including (LA)HORDE, Valeree Young, Matt Cady, Damien Jalet, Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui, Mecnun Giasar, Megan Lawson, and Nicolas Huchard.) Now that she’s up to speed, she takes full advantage of immersing herself in new cultures on tour. “I love to go to fitness studios, and I’ve been taking classes in different languages,” she says. “I’m also very interested in body language, so it’s been fascinating to sit in coffee shops and learn from the people in front of me.”

More than clothes: Love documents her funky, fun personal style on social media, and she’s found comfort in using fashion as another mode of expressing herself. She’s interested in eventually bringing some of that sensibility into costume design.

Growing and trusting: “Dance has saved me many times, gotten me through many heartbreaks,” says Love. “I’m now finding my voice more. I know I have things to offer, and I find that they’re being received. I’m trusting that even though I may not always feel like I fit in, I know that I belong.”

The post Meet Mattie Love, Performer With Madonna’s The Celebration Tour appeared first on Dance Magazine.

For Nickie, cooking is more than just a hobby. “Growing up, it was either becoming a dancer or going to school to become a chef,” says Nickie. Though he picked the former, he’s still looking for ways to turn his passion for food into a career. He runs his own prepared-meal business, and tracks his ventures in the kitchen on Instagram @chef_nickie. “Cooking is very therapeutic for me,” says Nickie, who prefers to spend time in the kitchen by himself. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

Seasoning as Accessories

Nickie applies the same philosophy to cooking that he does to fashion. “Your body is the base in terms of fashion, where in cooking the base will be your rice, your meats, your beans,” he says. “The seasoning is the accessories. You don’t want to be too much, and you don’t want to undercut yourself either. Mix and match—sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t, but you’ll learn for next time.”

Tune In to Your Ancestors

Nickie urges other cooks to taste as they go—he learned to cook by observing, not measuring, and sees all measurements as a guide rather than a rule. “When our ancestors tell us to stop pouring seasoning, that’s when we stop,” he says.

Ingredients

• 1 lb extra-sharp cheddar cheese (“In Trinidad, we use New Zealand cheddar cheese,” says Nickie.)
• 1 lb grated parmesan cheese
• 1 tbsp salt, for boiling pasta
• 1 lb (16 oz) dried elbow macaroni, penne, or other shaped pasta
• 2 tbsps unsalted butter, softened, plus more to grease pans
• 1 1/4 cup evaporated milk
• 1 1/4 cup heavy cream
• 8 oz cream cheese (Nickie says that you can substitute
  2 whisked eggs for the cream cheese, which binds the dish together, though he prefers the richer taste of the cream cheese.)
• 1 large carrot, grated
• 2 tsps granulated garlic
• 2 tsps onion powder
• 2 tbsps ketchup
• 1/2 cup creamy French dressing (“My secret weapon,” adds Nickie.)
• 1/2 tsp freshly ground black pepper
• 1/2 tsp adobo seasoning
• 1/2 packet Sazón seasoning
• 2 whole pimiento peppers from a jar, finely chopped
• 1/2 tsp dried parsley or fresh parsley, finely chopped

Instructions

1. Preheat the oven to 350°F.
2. Shred the cheddar cheese using the large side of a box grater.
3. Mix the shredded cheddar together with the grated parmesan cheese, then divide the cheese mixture in half.
4. Bring a large pot of water (4–5 quarts) to a rapid boil. Add salt and pasta. Stir for the fi rst minute or two to prevent sticking, then cook until al dente (about 8–10 minutes) and drain. While the pasta is still very hot, return it to the pot. Add softened butter and mix until melted. Place the pasta in a bowl and set aside.
5. Place the same large pot over low to medium heat and add the remaining ingredients. Stir together until the sauce is smooth and creamy.
6. Add half the cheese mixture and stir until combined.
7. Add the pasta to the cream sauce and mix well.
8. Grease one or more glass or ceramic casserole dishes with softened butter.
9. Pour the cheese-and-pasta mixture into the dishes and top with the remaining half of the cheese.
10. Bake the macaroni pie until the top is golden brown, about 30–45 minutes.
11. Allow the pie to cool, then cut it into squares to enjoy. (“Pray for discipline,” adds Nickie.)

The post Keon K. Nickie, Artistic Assistant of Dallas Black Dance Theatre: <i>Encore!</i>, Shares His Family’s Trinidadian Macaroni Pie appeared first on Dance Magazine.

However, there are parts of the dance world where labor-organizing efforts haven’t quite taken hold. While dancers at several operas and in two dozen or so ballet companies are AGMA members, only three contemporary dance companies are unionized: Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater, Martha Graham Dance Company, and Ballet Hispánico. An ever-increasing number of dancers are freelancers, meaning they don’t have access to the traditional union organizing route. And many dancers still do nonunion work in theater, film, television, and concert tours.

Across all industries, union membership has been declining for decades. But the country seems to be in the midst of a shift: Since 2009, the number of Americans who say they approve of unions and want them to be more powerful has steadily grown. In 2022, the National Labor Relations Board reported a 53 percent increase in union election petitions over the year before, meaning that more Americans were joining together with their co-workers to try to form unions. The agency also estimates that a whopping 60 million workers wanted to join a union that year but couldn’t.

Is this pro-union boom also headed for the dance world? It might be—and it could bring some welcome changes.

Why Dancers Are Getting More Interested in Unions

Over the last few years, workers at many well-known companies, including Starbucks and Amazon, have undertaken high-profile unionization campaigns. Then there were the 2023 Hollywood strikes, where workers from SAG-AFTRA and the Writers Guild of America stood up to powerful film and television studios. Many experts have speculated that these high-profile labor actions might be fueling the increase in pro-union sentiment.

However, according to dancer Antuan Byers, who serves as dancers vice president on the AGMA Board of Governors, the breaking point for a lot of the people in the dance world seems to have been the pandemic. “Dancers felt so unprotected in a field that was already unprotected,” he says. “We felt horrible in that moment. And I think that a lot of us were looking around for an answer and we saw the unions step up to protect dancers.” Unions not only helped to establish COVID-19 safety rules, but also tried to insulate dancers from institutional budget cuts.

Lots of budding dance labor organizers are also driven by issues of equity and social justice. Research shows that unions help to dramatically reduce gender and racial disparities in pay, among other benefits for workers. “Esther,” a dancer at a midsize regional ballet company that unionized with AGMA last year, says the effort was spurred in part by the dancers’ discovery that male company members were making more than twice what similarly experienced women were paid. (Esther’s name has been changed because her company is still in the midst of bargaining for its first contract, and she fears retaliation.)

All of these influences seem to be producing a notable generational shift, according to Griff Braun, AGMA’s national organizing director. “In years past, generally speaking, it would be the younger dancers who were much more afraid of rocking the boat and of unionizing than the more veteran dancers,” he says. Not so much anymore. “Now, sometimes it’s the veteran dancers that are comfortable in their position and they don’t want to rock the boat. But the younger ones are like, ‘Hey, we’re just coming into this profession and it needs to be better,’ ” says Braun.

Where Are the Contemporary Dance Unions?

Over the last several years, a wave of smaller ballet companies have joined AGMA. But while both Braun and Byers say they’re occasionally approached by contemporary dancers who are interested in unionizing, no such wave has materialized on the contemporary side of the dance world. Why is that?

For one thing, says Byers, the union model is familiar to ballet dancers. Seeing ballet companies join AGMA’s ranks showed dancers at similarly sized companies that they could do it, too, adds Braun. Contemporary dance companies, on the other hand, tend to be much smaller than ballet companies, with, on average, fewer dancers, fewer administrative staff, and a smaller budget. Contemporary dancers are also more likely to be freelancers, and under current labor law, freelancers typically cannot form and join unions. A bill that would have changed this, the Protecting the Right to Organize (PRO) Act, has passed twice in the House of Representatives, but has yet to make it to a vote in the Senate.

A common myth that employers use to try to discourage dancers from unionizing is that it will bankrupt the company. This isn’t true, Braun explains, because once the dancers’ union is formed with AGMA, it kicks off a negotiation with the company. A company can’t suddenly be forced to pay more than it can afford. But it is true that the union organizing and bargaining processes can be more difficult with a very small group of dancers because of several factors, including the fear of individual retaliation. It can also be intimidating and awkward, notes Byers, for dancers to have to deal directly with their choreographer or director, rather than having more administrative staff as a buffer.

But lack of budget shouldn’t necessarily discourage dancers from trying to organize. Even if substantial pay increases aren’t on the table, there’s so much more that dancers can bargain for. For example, “Laura,” a dancer at another midsize ballet company also in the process of bargaining for its first contract, and whose name has also been changed, said her union is pushing to receive casting and rehearsal schedules in a timelier fashion, and to make sure there are processes in place to keep the floors they dance on in safe condition.

Finally, says Braun, a big obstacle to organizing in the contemporary dance space is the culture. Declining to name specific companies, he says that directors at some modern and contemporary dance companies have instilled a strong anti-union sentiment in their dancers, often from the moment they enter the company. This creates a culture of fear around organizing for change. But that doesn’t stop a trickle of dancers from these companies from approaching AGMA every year—so eventually, the generational shift may take hold there, as well.

The Future of Commercial Dance Work

Instead of bargaining with individual dance companies the way AGMA does, Actors’ Equity bargains with all Broadway presenters and SAG-AFTRA with all film and television producers. Historically, you get into Equity and SAG by booking a union gig, which can mean attending endless frustrating and unsuccessful cattle call auditions. In response to criticism that this model can be exclusionary, in 2021 Equity shifted to an open-access membership policy, allowing anyone with past theater credits to join. Still, joining Equity or SAG-AFTRA can feel like a gamble for many dancers—the dues are higher than in other unions, and once a dancer joins Equity, they can no longer take dance jobs at theaters that don’t have Equity contracts.

For Ehizoje Azeke, whose credits include Warner Bros.’ In the Heights, Netflix’s­ tick, tick…Boom!, and the HBO hit “Succession,” among many others, union membership is worth it. Nonunion gigs, he says, are a “Wild West.” He recalls one particular nonunion gig he did with Todrick Hall at WorldPride in 2019. At the last second, Hall and his dancers were invited to join Ciara for part of her set—but offered no additional pay. “There were 20 dancers on this project. Four of us said, ‘If you can’t pay us to do it, we’re not going to do it,’ ” he says. “But all 16 of the other dancers did that additional performance for a multimillion-dollar recording artist, for free.”

On a union gig, there would have been someone to call for help, and pay minimums for the additional work, among other protections. And the more dancers join a union and get accustomed to working under better conditions, the less likely they’ll be to accept substandard gigs. Thanks to the recent SAG-AFTRA strike, dancers will see some improvements in their work on film and television going forward. For example, they can no longer be paid less for rehearsal than for on-camera work. Azeke hopes that’s only the beginning as dancers get more engaged within the union.

The post Is Dance Poised for a Union Boom? appeared first on Dance Magazine.