How Failure and Risk Helps Me Succeed

A few months ago, when I walked into the advanced ballet class at Alaska Dance Theatre on a warm summer afternoon, I am pretty positive that I caught a few of the kids off guard. I am far from an easy instructor. In fact, I can initially come off a bit harsh in my teaching methods. I'm no bullshit and I will tell a student exactly what I saw. If I truly think they did well or if I have seen marked improvement, I will tell them. But I don't really care to coddle students, patting their backs with comfort, or telling them that it is OK and maybe they'll get it next time. At the time, there wasn't much room for nonsense, anyway, because I wasn't even sure how long these kids would get to have me as their instructor. After what was probably a shockingly difficult barre that required exact precision or a restart to the beginning, I stood in front of the class and told them this. "I want you to fail in my class. Ballet class isn't about succeeding. It's about trying the same step incorrectly multiple ways until you find what works for you. Trip, fall, hold your leg until it is shaking with exhaustion. The studio isn't a place to constantly succeed. It is a place to fail, so that you can ultimately become successful." I don't remember if an instructor ever put it to me this way, but perhaps I feel this way because this is how I live my life outside of the studio.

Attempting to get a good shot as the sunrises over Masada & the Dead Sea in Israel

I've been dancing my whole life, but I didn't fall in love with ballet until I was 15 years old. I was a jazz competition kid who just happened to get bit by the ballet bug while working with choreographer and former New York City Ballet and American Ballet Theatre principal Robert Lafosse. Once I fell in love with ballet, there was no stopping me from achieving a career. With that said, there were countless times that I was told to give up my ballet dreams and head in the direction where I excelled, jazz and musical theatre. Each time I was given that talk, sometimes from the people I most respected, it pushed me to work harder. After finally succeeding at getting into Houston Ballet's year-round program, I probably took the first major risk of my career. After accepting my offer to attend and an August summer intensive with ABT, I came home with three days to pack and head to Texas. As I tried to mentally prepare for a move that I had been waiting over a year to do (I was accepted the year prior, but my mom wouldn't let me go), I slowly began to feel that I shouldn't isolate myself in the middle of the country during the last year or two of my training. I begged my mom to let me risk this opportunity and we drove to New York City to audition for the School of American Ballet year-round program. We drove to Lincoln Center, I auditioned, and the next day I got my results directly from the horses mouth. "No. The notes say, generally poor technique and extremely large quadriceps. Goodbye." I was beside myself!

After this crushing failure, I could have easily jumped on that flight and began training. But I just couldn't bring myself to leave. One day later, we drove three hours south to the Kirov Academy of Ballet. After a private audition, the late director stated in broken English, "Very slow year for boys. One third scholarship." This was far from my full ride to the Houston Ballet Academy and way out of the financial abilities of my family, but we were able to get a sponsor for my first month in the academy. As I headed down to the Kirov, I knew that I had to get greater sponsorship to continue my training at the school, but I felt hopeful that I was still close enough to New York City to feel connected to the center of the dance world. Then, two days later, September 11th happened, my sponsor froze their assets and I was left with an impossibility to continue my training. After the school graciously allowed me to remain for the first two months, they eventually decided to put me on full scholarship and I finished out my year of training.

At the end of my time at the Kirov, I had obtained a corps de ballet contract with Colorado Ballet. While I was ecstatic to begin my career as a professional. I had also been accepted to the School of American Ballet on full scholarship for their summer intensive. SAB was my dream and it had eluded me until this point. Seeing four students who trained at SAB perform in the Nutcracker that Robert Lafosse had choreographed was the defining inspiration that changed the trajectory of my career. I knew that I had to take this summer opportunity to see if a year-round option opened up. If this happened, I was willing to delay my career to live my dream. I called SAB and asked if they were considering me for the year-round program. They told me to take the job with Colorado Ballet because they couldn't promise me anything. So, I excitedly, yet reluctantly, signed my contract and started looking for a place to live in Denver.

A few months later, I arrived in Lincoln Center to finally realize a 5-week version of my dream. After three amazing days working with teachers I had only read about in Dance Magazine, I was pulled into a conference room along with one other classmate. There I was with one of my peers being the first two dancers asked to stay for this world-famous year-round program. I was committed to Denver, but my dream had just arrived. There was no way I could turn down this opportunity, even though it meant I had to train for another year, as well as destroy a very positive connection in the dance world. I promptly called up the director of Colorado Ballet and profusely apologized as I explained that I had to follow my dream. That next year at SAB changed my life as a dancer.

SAB workshops 2003 (Photo: Paul Kolnik)

One ironic part of my path is that turning down Houston Ballet Academy to train at two other schools only led me to get a job dancing with Houston Ballet. I had an interesting year working as one of Stanton Welch's first hires as an Artistic Director. At contract time, Stanton doesn't typically offer re-engagement to any apprentice across the board. AGMA states that dancers can only spend one year with the company as an apprentice, so they either need to be promoted to corps or let go. Typically, the director waits to see amongst the corps who will stay or leave and, only then, starts to promote the apprentices into the corps. When we all were"let go," I didn't feel comfortable waiting around to find out if I would get hired or not. I quickly obtained a contract with Pacific Northwest Ballet and Boston Ballet and signed with PNB. I still wonder to this day if I would have been offered a corps contract, but I was ready to move on to a more positive environment in a more metropolitan city.

My time at PNB has been well-documented in this blog. It had it's mix of highs and lows. While I was secure in my position and well-respected as a union delegate, I was itching to experience something new. I risked all of this security and seniority to try my hand at working with a fledgling, start-up company. After a great first few months, I injured myself and the company didn't support me. I was eventually fired by that company, which I consider one of my greatest failures. It wasn't so great only because I had moved my life to Philadelphia, but more so because I had given up so much to take such a huge risk.

Taking risks daily

While I gave up all of my security and lifestyle to expand my reach and possibilities as an artist, I was now stuck in Philadelphia, burgeoning on poverty, and injured. In these dark circumstances, I had to find a way to survive. This brought me into freelancing, choreographing, writing, teaching, and traveling. If I hadn't experienced the failure that I did, I don't know if I would ever have traveled the country to dance, written articles that have been published in periodicals, been featured in dance publications, or directed an organization 4,000 miles away from home. If I had stayed at PNB, I would probably be stuck in similar circumstances that I was in nearly four years ago.

As I begin to close the chapter on my most recent risk-taking failure, I am curious where life will lead me next. I took a chance to do something that I wasn't sure if it would be a great or poor decision. While I could look at the whole experience as an utter failure, what I am realizing is that my life is much like a dance studio. I spend each day of my life exploring different ways of experiencing this wild career and testing out ways of achieving my best through trial-and-error, or failure. Some things have worked out perfectly on the first try and some things have failed immediately. But in the end, the knowledge that I have gained and the growth I have had will only make my future experiences more successful. Failure can have such a negative connotation in our culture. But I just don't really see it that way. It takes practicing a pirouette ten-thousand times to finally achieve the perfect one. And, sometimes, right after that perfect pirouette, you fall hard on your ass, get back up, and try to make it perfect again.

My greatest success at Alaska Dance Theatre

Have I Been Forgotten?

Avenue of the Arts & City Hall - Philadelphia - My morning walk to open class

After nearly 7 months away, I can't even begin to explain how exciting it was for me to return home to Philly. Not only was I thrilled to see my partner and be in my own space, I was excited to see my cats, walk down familiar streets, and sleep in my own bed. Another rousing prospect high on my list was seeing all of my friends that were eagerly awaiting my return home. The day before I embarked on my 3 month tour to Alaska, a large group of about 20 friends gathered with me at a local pub. Last week, when I posted on Facebook that "I.....AM.....HOME", I was expecting the same reception that I received when I left. Alas, I got three responses. My sister said, "yay," my mom said, "woo hoo," and one Philly-based friend responded, "welcome home." And although about 15 people liked my status update, only 3 were local friends. As the next few days passed, I anxiously awaited phone calls, texts, and messages that somebody wanted to hang out with me. One or two came, but, other than that, it has generally been crickets. Then reality started to set in. I had been away for nearly 7 months with only a short break between gigs. Had I been forgotten?

To answer this question, I feel that I need to look all the way back to my childhood. I remember around the age of 13, I decided to dedicate myself to this crazy art of dance. I remember aching inside, I wanted it so badly. I didn't know exactly what was aching and I had an amorphous idea of what I wanted, but I ached for some sort of success and notoriety. As the years progressed, a small handful of students at my home dance studio, Chester Valley Dance Academy, convinced the director to add a Friday night ballet class. We didn't care that all of our peers were going to parties, seeing the newest blockbusters, and having youthful romances. All we knew was that we wanted another chance to dance, no matter the social consequence. Yes, we missed those occasions and, yes, we missed many more. But that little hurt that we did feel was covered up by our successes. We got into summer programs, we won awards at competitions, and we got to travel more than those sitting next to us in English class.

Once I moved on from my home studio, I was thrown into an environment with dozens of dancers, instead of four, just like me. We had made mature sacrifices as mere children. We passed on integral social building parts of our childhood to do something fascinating. We didn't care if we missed prom. We didn't care if we got made fun of for being men and dancing. We didn't care if our friends slowly started to drift away because we were always at dance. Finally, we had entered an environment with kids like us. At the Kirov Academy of Ballet, it was impossible to not become close to your peers. We lived, danced, ate, and received our academic education all in the same building. There was no need to turn down friendship for dance because we were always together in everything we did. But once we graduated, some dancers got contracts, some went to college, and others quit dance altogether and we scattered across the country like pigeons searching for breadcrumbs. We had to start the process all over again. Yes, we finally had solid friendships, just none of them lived close enough to hang out.

Reuniting w/suitemates from SAB 10 years later - Me (PNB), Jermel Johnson (PA Ballet), Andrew Scordato (NYCB)

Most dancers finally begin to have a solid social life once they join a company. This is when one usually settles down in one place for an extended period of time. Aside from befriending colleagues, being an independent adult allows you to pick and choose friends outside of dance who are fine with the oft erratic schedule of a dancer. Once I lived in Seattle for a long enough period of time, I had a solid group of friends in and out of dance. At that point, I felt that all of the sacrifices from my childhood paid off. I had the best of both worlds; my success as an artist and the social life that I had passed on years before. Then I decided to make a career change and moved away from that social atmosphere that had become an integral part of my young adult life.

Moving is almost always traumatic. Aside from relocating and adjusting to a change of environment, you need to find a new base of support. Unfortunately, my work takes me away from home for weeks and months at a time. I am lucky that my partner is mostly stationed in Philly throughout the year and has developed his own base of friends. Whenever I return home from a gig, he sits me down and reads a long list of people that are very excited to finally meet me. This is really nice and I always enjoy his new friends. For me, though, I feel that I have only acquired what is mostly panning out to be acquaintances with great potential. Now don't get me wrong, I have made some good friends in Philadelphia and I do have great relationships in the suburbs from my childhood. But for the most part, it is nearly impossible to cultivate caring, understanding, and mutual friendships when I am always picking up and leaving right as things start to blossom. It makes complete and total sense to me that I have these banging send offs and disappointing returns.

When I experience disappointment, I try to turn the tables and look at things from an outside perspective. Going through this process over the last week, I have come to realize a few things. The first being that it is not uncommon for people to latch onto me quickly. I am quite outgoing and friendly, which generally makes me easy to approach. Most non-dancers initially seek my friendship because of their intrigue in me as a dancer. I find that people seek to know the professional side of me before the personal. It takes awhile for acquaintances to really get to know me on a more personal level, which is truly when the friendship starts. I have to spend time cultivating potential friends to look at me as a person that dances instead of only as a dancer. This usually takes multiple, frequent encounters. Unfortunately, my work schedule doesn't allow that pertinent relationship building time. So, most of the people I meet feel a great connection to me that is easily pushed to the side after I leave town.

Along the same note, I have to remind myself of the well-known idiom, "Out of sight. Out of mind." When you don't see somebody with a hint of regularity, it is easy to forget about your relationship with that person. This is human nature, therefore removing the personal blame from either side of the equation. If an important connection hasn't been cultivated, one can't be held accountable for moving on to more important relationships in their lives.

Keeping the above in mind, I came to realize that I must accept some of the blame in my feelings of being disregarded. When I travel, I must adjust to a new environment. I have to learn the layout of the city, meet new colleagues, and find enough time to rest from all of the hard work I put in. When I come home from a long day in the studio, I am more likely to draw a bath and pour a glass of wine than I am to call or message a new friend. At the very moment that I started to feel bitter towards the lack of excitement in my return, I had to look at myself and accept that I put very little effort into cultivating something that I shouldn't expect as a given.

Once I got over the fact that nobody was calling me, I started contacting people. And as I have slowly started adjusting to being home and begun returning to my routine, I have run into some of the people that I had hoped would reach out to me. Each one of them has responded with the same excitement that they had when I left. It must be kept in perspective that, as I do when I get busy, people don't necessarily forget about you when you aren't around. Just because somebody hasn't contacted you, doesn't mean that they don't care about you anymore or that you haven't crossed their mind. Essentially, I am surrounded by successful adults that are just as busy as I am. They probably feel the same way about me that I felt about them. If one offers a gentle reminder that they have returned, they will get a better response than they would if they egotistically waited around for everybody else to make initial contact.

With this new mindset, I don't feel as forgotten as I did just days ago. Being a freelancer, we are lucky that we get to make friends everywhere that we go. While most adults stay in one place and cultivate their one group of friends, I have the privilege of traveling the world and making friends in each city that I travel. While there isn't always sheer excitement each time I come and go, there is often excitement everywhere I go. It is actually a privilege to have friends wherever I travel. This must not be taken for granted. When I finally decide to settle down and slow the pace of my freelancing, I can be more concerned about having a solid social group at home. And to be completely honest, if I am to be forgotten, it can't really be all that bad. I survived these feelings as a teenager. So I can surely live a happy life with these feelings as an adult. Not much has really changed since I was a devoted teenage dance student passionate about my art.

Returning to Providence

Sleeping Beauty rehearsal - Shura Baryshnikov as Carabosse & Emily Loscocco as the Lilac Fairy (Photo: A. Cemal Ekin)

Almost one year ago to the day, I was sitting on an Amtrak train writing a blog about my wonderful host family that I had spent a month living with in Providence, Rhode Island while guesting with Festival Ballet Providence. Although, I had some experience freelancing before that gig, it was my first as a full-time freelance artist. I am experiencing a bit of de ja vu since I am currently on a train heading home to Philly after saying goodbye to the same host family. Three weeks ago, I was brought back to the Ocean State to dance with FBP in their season closing production of Sleeping Beauty. It was due to the relationship that we had cultivated last year that I was asked to come back and dance with the company again.

A few weeks before I left Alaska, I contacted the director of Festival to see if he needed any guest artists for his production of Sleeping Beauty. Since the company is comprised of about 25 artists, it is not uncommon for them to hire guest artists to supplement their productions of these large scale classical ballets. At the time of contact, the company was in the theatre working on a different production and they weren't able to let me know if they needed me. I only found out that I was hired a little less than a week prior to my leaving. I had just arrived home from Anchorage when they let me know they needed me. After spending 3 months in Alaska, I only had 5 days at home before I hopped aboard a train to begin rehearsing. Sometimes, that is how work happens. I have learned to be prepared to travel at a moment's notice.

Providence is beautiful in the springtime

Although I do prefer a bit more warning, I was happy to return to Providence for many reasons. The moment that I was hired, I jokingly told the director that I wouldn't take the job if I couldn't stay with the host family I was with last year. He already knew that I would make this request and within an hour I had received a text from my host mother letting me know, "Of course you'll stay with us. I'll start cooking!" I was very happy to reconnect with the fam and to catch up on happenings of the past year.

I was also excited, surprisingly, to take class with the company again. Last year, I dreaded returning to the achingly slow classes that were founded by Agrippina Vaganova. Strict Russian-style classes are hard as can be. After training at the Kirov Academy of Ballet for a year, I was reluctant to return to that training, especially after cultivating myself into a Balanchine dancer with Pacific Northwest Ballet. What I wasn't expecting was how much strength I would gain from the technique during my time with FBP last season. This time around, I was excited to benefit from these classes. At times, I just couldn't make it through the painstakingly slow adagios that are often given. But I definitely felt that my technique got stronger over the last few weeks. I even had a mind-blowing revelation during one of the classes. Well, I didn't quite have this revelation, but the teacher explained one thing that had always irked me about Russian training. After giving a particularly hard combination, the ballet master, Cosmin Marculetiu, let the dancers in on a little secret about Vaganova training. He stated, "This combination wasn't created to make you feel good. It was made to make you fail." This statement validated all of my feelings about this style of training since I left KAB. I always felt like I was a horrible dancer in Russian classes. I didn't realize that this was exactly the point. Although, I don't prefer to feel like I am failing each day, I can now better appreciate this technique. It was developed to challenge you beyond your threshold, so that one can handle difficult choreography with ease.

One thing that I really appreciated upon my return to the company was how welcomed I felt by the dancers and staff. There has been a lot of turnover in the company since last season, so there were many new faces. Although there were new dancers, from the moment I walked into the studio I felt that people were genuinely happy to see me. There was only a rumor that I might be returning, so most of the dancers weren't expecting to see me when I arrived. I was embraced with warm smiles, hugs, and chatty catching up. Those that didn't know me quickly warmed up to me and, within a day or two, I felt almost as if I had met them the season prior. Being a freelancer, I am constantly faced with the discomfort of breaking into each company's unique bubble, which is commonly tight knit and competitive. It was nice to walk into the studio knowing that I didn't have to prove myself or awkwardly engage people until someone befriended me. I appreciate this more than one would probably think due to the fact that my work forces me to exist in a constant state outside of my comfort zone.

Taking this job was not a career boosting opportunity for me. I didn't return to Festival to be a star. The director didn't hire me to dance in place of his dancers. He already has beautiful, quality dancers who are more than qualified to dance their repertoire's leading roles. When I take work, I usually prefer to be the Prince or some other leading character. But if I am going to take a job where I am only needed to supplement corps roles, especially roles I most often performed during my apprenticeship/1st year in the corps, I would prefer for it to be in an environment that I enjoy. During the past three weeks, I was so happy to reconnect with old friends, make new friends, take quality classes, and perform with little stress in my roles. Last year, I felt like I was returning to my roots in Providence. This year, I felt like I was returning to see an old friend.

Carabosse & her crew of gargoyles

Ashlee Dupre - NY-based Musical Theatre Freelance Artist

Ashlee Dupre performing in Twyla Tharp's Movin' Out

I spent years training in famed institutions like the School of American Ballet and the Kirov Academy of Ballet (KAB) and beyond. As time has passed, many of my friends, peers, and colleagues have gone on to dance from major ballet companies to contemporary projects to So You Think You Can Dance. Oddly enough, very few of my friends have crossed over into the genre of musical theatre. One exception to that rule would be my friend and former KAB classmate, Ashlee Dupre. As a ballet student, Ashlee had these amazingly steely muscles that propelled her dancing. Something else I learned while training with her was that she also had a huge personality. I have only seen Ashlee dance one time since we graduated from KAB. In 2006, we were both hired to dance in First State Ballet Theatre's annual (and now defunct) Arabesque Festival. We didn't know that we were both hired to perform in this gala until we showed up onstage. Even though we have only seen each other this one time since school, we have always kept up with each other on Facebook. Ashlee is currently working in the Off-Broadway smash-hit Silence! The Musical. Read on to hear what it is like to freelance in the New York musical theatre scene.

Ashlee Dupre

I started dancing at a young age. My mother owned a dance studio. At 13, I was accepted into the Kirov Academy of Ballet, where I finished out all of high school. Right after finishing school, I booked my first job with Colorado Ballet as a corps de ballet member. During my time with the company, I realized that I wasn’t very happy doing just ballet. I felt limited in my movement. I decided to move to NYC the following year. 

Ashlee performing at the Kirov Academy of Ballet

While living in the city, I continued auditioning for various ballet companies. In an audition for Vienna Staatsoper Ballet, out of 200 women I made it to the final four. Alas, I did not make it into the company. Soon after, I became interested in musical theater. My sister got me into it. She encouraged me to audition for the national tour of Movin' Out, Twyla Tharp's musical. 

I had seen the show on Broadway and fell in love with it. Elizabeth Parkinson originated the female lead. She is my idol! The audition process was soooooo long. I seemed to be doing great, though. In the auditions for the show, Twyla would use me to demonstrate combinations. There were about 4 callbacks. In the final one, she announced the cast and I was a part of it!

Ashlee w/Adam Dulin-Tavares in Twyla Tharp's Movin' Out

My role was in the ensemble, but I also understudied both female principal roles. During the 2^nd year of the tour, I was promoted to play both principal roles (Brenda 4x a week and Judy 2x a week) in our shows. I can honestly say, if my career ended today, I would be satisfied because I danced my dream role, Brenda! 

When the tour closed, I got back to auditioning and soon landed a role in a new musical choreographed and directed by Lynne Taylor Corbett in China. That’s when I joined the union, Actors Equity. I had speaking lines and had to sing in the production. I found out that I could sing, which opened doors for me. When I returned to NY, of course, I had to continue auditioning. I also started taking voice lessons. I would go to every audition on the Actors Equity website that I could possibly do. I finally got another job, Phantom of the Opera, in Las Vegas. That was incredibly exciting! I felt like I could actually make a career for myself in musical theater. 

It was tough living in Vegas. Even though I was working, I still had to look for my next gig. That’s the thing with musical theater, your job can end before it even begins. I am constantly auditioning. I would fly back and forth from Vegas to NY for invited calls. When Phantom finished I was back in NY. I went to Elizabeth Parkinson and Scott Wise's musical theater summer program as a chaperone, but was able to take all of the classes offered. It was such a wonderful opportunity because I got to network with some amazing people. And I landed my next gig, Where’s Charley?, in the Encores! program at City Center because of it. I was the featured dancer in the program. I LIVED!!! 

A couple months after that ended, I received a Facebook message to join the cast of Silence! The Musical. And here I am today, a working dancer, singer,  and actress in NYC. It is incredibly hard to be a part of this business. It takes a toll on your emotions and body. But in the end, it's absolutely worth it. I learn new things everyday and I'm so grateful to be where I am today.

  
Ashlee's Advice for Freelancers: "Networking is one of the many challenges of a freelance dancer. It is so important. I have found that half the gigs I have ever done were because someone recommended me. Always be kind and open, you never know who you're talking to or who's listening. Of course, stay true to yourself."