Knowing When to Say "No"

As dancers, we are always taught to be YES people. Do you want to do the combination again? YES! Do you want to try that lift again? YES! Do you want this job? YES! It is ingrained in a dancer's mind at a very young age that you should nearly always say YES during your dance career. For, if we say no, we may actually remember that the human body has certain limitations and we may miss out on career-boosting opportunities. At the same time, it is also considered poor etiquette to say NO to an instructor, choreographer, or director. But there will be a time in every dancer's career, especially as a freelance artist, when they are suddenly struck with an instance where they may need to say NO. When is it appropriate or, perhaps, even necessary for a dancer to break the expectation for them to remain submissive and say NO?

1. Since this blog is about freelancing, let's start with an example for any dancer that works as an independent contractor. It can be very exciting to have an employer reach out to you for an opportunity to dance with their organization. Though, there are a few reasons that you should say NO to a potential job for reasons beyond timing and logistics.

If a director want you to travel for a period of time to work with them, but doesn't want to provide travel, housing, or sufficient weekly pay to cover your bills, this is absolutely a time that you should say NO. Take it from me. My last major performance gig didn't provide housing, which led to me living like a homeless person going from couch to couch at pure strangers homes for 5 weeks. I ended up severely injured and traumatized for months after (imagine random crying fits out of nowhere). Beyond that, if you are away from your normal connections and you aren't being paid enough to cover your monthly expenses, it will be nearly impossible for you to recover your lost income in time to meet your bills. Be sure to know what you are committing to before signing that contract.

2. As you mature as a dancer, you get a better idea of what works for your body and what doesn't. Also, you may end up dealing with some nagging injuries that prevent you from performing certain steps. For me, when my lower back started to reject certain partnering choreography, I would have to step up and tell a choreographer that I couldn't perform certain lifts from a flat-back position. While this wasn't always met with the happiest response, I was able to continue dancing without injuring myself for quite some time. It is important that a dancer is completely sure that specific movements are off the table before claiming that they can't perform those maneuvers. Also, be sure to understand that saying NO to certain movements may end up reflecting upon you in certain ways and you may find yourself limited in casting.

If you are a freelancer, this is one of the most important things, as you don't want to injure yourself to impress an employer that is only hiring you for one production and may never use you again.

At a certain point, this lift was off the table for me - "Not a Cry" by Amy Seiwert (Photo: Alexander Izaliev)

3. During my time working for the American Guild of Musical Artists (AGMA), I learned that there has been research conducted that shows dancers are much more likely to become injured during the 4th consecutive hour of rehearsal. Beyond that, there is an increased likelihood of injury in rehearsals that extend beyond one hour. When I worked for Pacific Northwest Ballet, we had a 5-minute break every hour of rehearsal and no dancer was allowed to work beyond 3 hours without a 1-hour break before starting back up again. I understand there is sometimes a need to break one of these rehearsal rules, as stopping a choreographer mid-thought could be detrimental to their process or holding an emergency rehearsal on a performance day may only be available during that 4th hour. But, generally, a dancer should do their best to avoid saying YES to rehearsing for endless periods of time without appropriate breaks. Your body is your instrument and, if your employer isn't going to take that into consideration, it is your job to protect it.

4. While it may be great experience for a dancer to take on additional non-dancing work for a company (social media, marketing, admin, etc.), a dancer shouldn't be required to perform work outside of their job description. Working as additional stage crew to load-in, load-out, or perform duties of a stagehand should not be an expectation of a dancer, as well. Heavy lifting and moving could put dancers at risk. If an employer has these expectations of dancers, this should be expressed to them before they are given the choice to say YES to accepting a contract.

Networking at an event (Photo: Patrick Mackin)

5. One expectation of many dancers is to attend general public and fundraising events for an organization. While this is not always mandatory, it is good for dancers to attend these events. It helps the company promote its' mission, it lets donors and potential sponsors feel like they are a part of the organization, and it humanizes our often untouchable-feeling art form. While these events are often lots of fun, there are times when an attendee has too much to drink or is attending with less than favorable intentions. Just because a major donor or a potential sponsor is looking to give money to the organization does not mean that they can treat a dancer inappropriately. If you are uncomfortable with the direction a conversation is going, absolutely do say NO to any advances that are clearly inappropriate. And, if worse comes to worse, excuse yourself to use the restroom, refill your drink, or grab a friend to help pull you out of the situation.

6. I have a major rule that I never pay to work for an employer. If there are any items that an employer asks for you to pay for, you should say NO to that job. This includes paying for unpaid tickets that you were expected to sell (I don't think this should ever be a dancer's expected responsibility), shoes for performances (especially if you are required to dye them), travel, hotels, costuming, housing, etc.

7. The rehearsal studio is an extremely unique workplace. There are many things that if put in any other work environment could easily be considered crude, inappropriate, or sexual harassment. This is a difficult item, as dancing requires touching each other's bodies in otherwise inappropriate places for partnering or to tell the story. If you are a young, hopeful dancer who is shy, prude, or extremely religious, then you may want to consider looking into a different career option.

Now, there is a time when certain types of touch are inappropriate in the studio. If your partner or a choreographer are touching in places that are unwelcome for you or don't make sense to express the storyline, do express that it feels uncomfortable immediately. Usually, if everybody is working appropriately, this should resolve the issue. If certain types of touching continue beyond rehearsing the actual part, it is necessary for you to say NO or to reach out to the company's Human Resources department to address the issue. If there is no Human Resources department, you need to reach out to the ballet master or director.

In an office environment, this would be sexual harassment - Romeo & Juliet w/Fort Wayne Ballet (Photo: Jeffrey Crane)

Adapting to Differing Company Practices

I'm currently in Alaska running my annual summer intensive for pre-professional track students. The sun sets a few minutes before midnight and rises around 4 am, but it never gets fully dark. I started this intensive to help enhance these Alaskan student's local training after my tenure as Interim Artistic Director of Alaska Dance Theatre. One of my favorite things about getting to run this program is that I am in complete control of what happens in the studio. If I feel that a student needs to be pushed, I can push them to their limit. If the time has come to pull a student back for their own safety, I do that because I answer to myself. Working like this was a rarity when I held a full-time schedule of performances with multiple companies as a freelance dancer. I was often a slave to company practices, which could mean that I was adjusting to 8-10 different ways of running rehearsals each year. So, getting to make strategic decisions in the studio is a luxury that I really appreciate.

AK-BK Students in Contemporary Technique Class

It can become quite easy to get stuck in one's ways when you have been dancing with a company for any time greater than a year. You wake up in the morning with a general idea of what to expect throughout your day. There may only be cause for concern if a new choreographer or stager is creating/teaching a new work. And, even in these situations, you usually have the protections of an extensively negotiated contract to make sure that there are at least a handful of regular studio practices in place. Some of these luxuries can include a 5-minute break during each hour that you rehearse, an hour for lunch in the middle of the day, a non-mandatory hour-and-a-half warm up class, major issues taken up in private meetings, and more. No matter how functional or dysfunctional a company may be, one often finds a certain level of comfort and expectation in working for one organization. You know what you are getting into from day to day and week to week.

Unfortunately, for freelancers, the above case of comfort and expectation just doesn't exist. I learned this the hard way after dancing with Pacific Northwest Ballet for 7 seasons. After experiencing this company's very functional way of running, I found myself struggling to adjust (and sometimes handle) to the multitude of environments in which I was dancing. For instance, the first time I was brought in to dance with Festival Ballet Providence for their production of Swan Lake, I was at a loss for words when I walked into my first rehearsal. I was standing in the middle of the studio preparing to learn the waltz in the first act of the ballet. Due to circumstances, I was only able to enter the studio after most of the company had already learned this piece of the ballet. My assumption, based off of previous experience, was that teaching me the choreography and filling in the gaps would be the priority of this rehearsal. Instead, I was partnered up with another dancer who already knew the choreography. Before I knew it, the music started. I stood staring at my partner, following her around for about 16 counts before I walked off the floor and raised my hand. Instead of the, "Oh, we forgot that we had to teach it to you," response I was expecting, the director told me that he would teach it to me another day and to just stand beside my partner and follow her around for the next hour. If I remember correctly, I left rehearsal and texted my husband, "I'm really concerned about what I have signed up for." This may be an extreme example of the point I am trying to make, but after asking around the studio if this was a common practice, none of the dancers were even slightly phased by what happened to me. This was not an uncommon practice for them.

Throughout most of my freelance career, I have had a different experience with each company I danced for. Fort Wayne Ballet left my Juliet and myself in the studio with a DVD to learn all of a full-length Romeo and Juliet without a ballet master. We had the freedom to make decisions and they trusted that we would make the right ones. Company C Contemporary Ballet wanted to rehearse a 20-minute one-act ballet that I had learned in a flash almost immediately. Other companies I worked with rehearsed 3 hours a day (instead of the 6 hours I was accustomed to at PNB), docked your pay if you missed company class, and even requested dancers perform on public transportation. Instead of experiencing the restricted choices of a unionized company contract, I found myself panicking that these practices were going to injure me or take away from the integrity of my work that I felt I had built during my years dancing in Seattle.

Performing Romeo & Juliet w/ Fort Wayne Ballet - Dancer: Lucia Rogers (Photo: Jeffrey Crane)

I'm not sure if I ever fully adjusted to the malleability that is necessary to function in the freelance world. But I can tell you that I have many friends and colleagues who have learned to just go with the flow and hold no company to any expectations. While some of these dancers have come from major companies, what I have found is that most of these more fluid dancers have never danced in a union company. In this situation, I feel that it can be very beneficial to lack the experience of working for an organization that is structured by a strong contract. It is kind of like eating candy. If you have never eaten candy, you are a lot less likely to crave it. But if you have ever tasted the sweetness of chocolate (or for me gummy bears), and it is kept from you, you will be much more likely to crave that chocolate. In the case of a dancer, if you have ever rehearsed in a more efficient way, it can become stressful to lower your standards to a less efficient approach. Even, if in some cases, that approach is more efficient, but you only want to rehearse the way you are used to.

My greatest suggestion to any dancer that finds themselves struggling with working in differing company cultures is to remember that there is no perfect way to run a rehearsal, treat a dancer, or lead an organization. Of course, there are things that should not be done; like treating dancers poorly, changing rehearsal hours without care or additional pay, etc. But keep in mind that all directors and ballet masters/mistresses have come from a different background and a have had different experiences in and out of the studio. If you were put in the same position to lead the dancers standing beside you, you may find that they dislike how you approach running rehearsals. Yes, there are more and less efficient approaches to teaching. But until you are in a position of leadership, it is actually your job to remain mostly submissive.

Now, if there is a point where you feel that you or your peers are being put in legitimate danger, it is your responsibility to speak up. But, in order to maintain a professional relationship, you may want to wait to speak to whomever is leading rehearsal until after that rehearsal has ended. If you feel that you are being put in immediate danger, of course, you must speak up. But it isn't extremely common to find yourself in a situation where something needs to be addressed at that exact moment in the studio.

One of the most beautiful parts of our dance world is that no company is alike. There are differing reps, a plethora of dance artists, and a range of styles. In the same way, there are many ways that a company can choose to function. Do your best to remain submissive and lead through example. If you become a leader in this way, you may actually be asked to help influence a clearer rehearsal process. Stay true to yourself and speak up if absolutely necessary, but keep in mind that it is leaderships choice how to run a company and its rehearsals. Think of it this way. The first time you learn a role in a ballet, dancers often feel that this is the correct way to perform this piece. If someone comes in a few years later and asks for steps to be executed on different counts or in a different style, the dancers who have already performed the work will say that what is being taught is wrong. But in reality, it is only a different viewpoint of what the work was before. There is no right or wrong, unless it is endangering one's safety or health.

Giving Everything for Your Art (or not)

Performing Mary Anthony's Threnody (Photo: Bill Hebert)

When I was a young, freshly professional 19 year old near-child moving thousands of miles away from home to join Houston Ballet, I was a bit of a bunhead. Actually, let's be honest here. I'm still a complete and total bunhead. During my short year with the company, I became great friends with my fellow Apprentice and (now) new Houston Ballet faculty member Alex Pandiscio (proud shoutout). We in our bunheaded glory would sit at his apartment sipping beer, watching ballet DVDs (or VHS :-o), and debate about everything from technique to artistry to production quality. When I left to join Pacific Northwest Ballet, I really missed having a friend that was equally, if not more passionate about our art form.

Once I got into the swing of things at PNB, more often than not, I found dancers trying to fill the gap between living your life as a dancer and living your life and dancing for a living. If I suggested a ballet viewing night, people would tease me. If I wanted to sit down for drinks after work and talk about technique, people would quickly ask to change the subject. Here I was, in one of the most inspiring companies in the country seeking greater inspiration than an 8-hour workday. I found that many of my colleagues didn't want to make dance their lifestyle, which is perfectly fine. But I preferred the opposite. So, when I finally took the plunge and left PNB, it was easy for me to use this as one of the excuses for me to leave. I told myself that I needed to be surrounded by people who would give anything and everything for their art.

After making my way to Philadelphia, my 22-week seasonal contract meant that I would need to seek gigs in between work periods with the contemporary company I was dancing for. My first (and only) foray into the Philadelphia freelance scene was performing for a small modern company that is based on the technique of niche choreographer Mary Anthony. To be completely honest, it wasn't really my thing. But I went into life after PNB with an open mind as to where things would lead me. And for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was surrounded by people who would do anything for our art. Anything!

At PNB, I was used to rehearsing for productions anywhere from a few weeks to a few days before getting onstage to perform. Preparing for this Philly Fringe Festival show, we spent nearly 8 weeks rehearsing (granted it was only 6-8 hours per week) mostly after the sun had gone down. Dancers came into rehearsals late, and it was acceptable, because they had regular day jobs. It wasn't uncommon for heated discussions to happen as the work was restaged. Some dancers were much more vocal than any dancer would be in a ballet studio, while others were so happy to be dancing that they would do anything and everything necessary to be a part of the company. The contrast between strength and submission was great and utterly shocking to my ballet world expectations. Beyond all of this, pay was only guaranteed to most dancers after tickets were sold or grants came through. This meant that some dancers didn't see any compensation for months after the work had been performed.

Some weeks before we performed, our group took a trip up to New York City to work with Mary Anthony herself. She was still kicking (barely) at the ripe old age of 94 years old. We were to have rehearsal with this woman, who cultivated an intensely respectful cult following, at her studios. This rehearsal would be followed by us sharing the work in a fundraising open rehearsal. While a few dancers had dropped hints, nobody prepared me for what I was about to see or experience.

After taking an elevator to the 8th floor of a building between St. Marks and NYU that housed the Mary Anthony Dance Studios (where she was still teaching class twice a week), we were dropped off on her floor and immediately turned right into the dressing rooms. We had been sitting on a Bolt Bus for a few hours, so I had been holding my bladder for a long time. I turned to one of my fellow modern dancers and asked where the bathroom was located. He simply responded, "Walk through the lobby, past Mary's bedroom, and it will be on the left." The comment didn't really add up to me. My first thought, "Oh, Mary lives here? I guess the studio is bigger than I expected." Nope! I walked out of the dressing room and laying right behind the front desk was Mary Anthony resting on her bed. YES, right behind a desk in the lobby.

Mary Anthony lived in her studio. The lobby consisted of a front desk, a bed, a dining room table, and a door to the bathroom. The dressing rooms tripled as a place to put your clothes on, the food pantry, and a litter box area for her cat that roamed the 8th floor. Between the lobby and studio was a small cove for a kitchen. The sacred dance studio was just a dance studio. The place wasn't in disarray, but it wasn't very clean, there were nails sticking out of the nearly plywood dance floor, and there were cans of roach spray in every room.

In my culture shock, I walked through the bedroom, past the kitchen, and into the dance studio for warm-up. As I felt a nail poke my foot through the foot-blackening wooden floor, my chest tightened and another dancer must have seen the panic in my heart. She looked at me and said, "No nail here. I'll switch spots." After getting our sweat on while Mary Anthony was awakened and prepped for rehearsal, a quietly stoic figure walked with assistance into her proud home one inch at a time. She sat in rehearsal without changing expressions. When a correction needed to be made, she whispered into her adoring former dancer's ear. And then, suddenly, out of nowhere, this woman raised her voice into a boom. She stared at me with eyes dilating, "you are a SAILOR! you've had a HARD LIFE! YOU'RE...TOO...PRETTY!" That was the most she said that day. But it was said that she was most her former self in that one moment.

Performing Mary Anthony's Threnody - Me on the right (Photo: Bill Hebert)

Our open rehearsal had a minimal showing of support. We enjoyed wine and hors d'ouevres in the lobby immediately after performing Ms. Anthony's work. Living to the frail age of 94 must be exhausting, so Mary's assistant put her to sleep. To paint the clearest picture possible, Ms. Anthony lay on her back asleep in her bed, eyes covered with a floral sleep mask as dancers multiple generations past Mary's prime sipped wine and chatted around her frail sleeping form. As I stood over Mary, sipping my dry wine, and appearing to listen to another dancer talk about their next gig, I had an utterly deep realization. Maybe there is such a thing as giving too much to your art.

On the bus ride back to Philly over a smuggled bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, the dancers who had shared this experience previously told me about their first venture to the Mary Anthony Dance Studios. I think the thing about most shock is that you can only be shocked by the same thing once. These dancers now saw this experience as commonplace to learning a Mary Anthony work. As stories continued to flow, I learned that many in the dance community considered her a legend in the same realm as Graham and Limon. Mary started her own company, and since many of the dancers whom she hired had difficulty finding work in the prime time of the classical modern dance era, her dancers not only adored the woman but saw her as a motherly idol. Mary was not so nice in her less frail days. But she was passionate and had a very clear vision. She also performed well into her 70's. At one point, as her studio was struggling to survive, Mary was offered a tenured position to teach at New York University. But Mary felt that she would have sold out by taking that position. So, she chose to continue living the life she did. One where the line blurred between studio and home, work and life.

Performing Mary Anthony's Gloria (Photo: Bill Hebert)

Near the end (Mary had impressively lived over 2 years after this experience), it became clear that Mary had completely and utterly devoted her life to her art form. And I have such an incredible respect that she was able to remain so honest to her values as an artist. But meeting and working directly with somebody who had such great dedication and longevity that her life and art fused into one entity without care for quality of life taught me a very valuable lesson.

We all devote ourselves to this beautifully painful art form to one degree or another. Some people leave dance at work, others bring it home with them. And for others, dance is literally their home. I used to be more judgmental about how people that call dance a career chose to make it a part of their lives. But after this experience, I view things quite differently. I'd give most everything in my life to be a part of this art form. And while I don't look down on people who do give absolutely everything to this art form regardless of their well-being, I find that it is best to find a middle ground that makes one feel fulfilled and equally alive as a human being. As we are not dancers living as people. We are people living as dancers.

LOFD Reaches Major Milestone - How My Life Has Changed Since I Began Freelancing

Screen shot from editing - Core-ography Core-Artist Lauren Fadeley

I know it has been awhile since I've posted, but a lot has been going on. Nearly two weeks ago, I successfully ended my first public fundraising campaign for Core-ography, where we surpassed our $6,000 goal by nearly $300. This allowed me to begin working with my first Core-Artist this past week. I spent nearly 10 hours interviewing, choreographing, and filming Pennsylvania Ballet Principal Lauren Fadeley. Beyond all of this, I was named a finalist in the prestigious McCallum Theatre's 18th annual Choreography Festival. This means that I will be heading to Palm Desert, CA with two dancers to perform my pas de deux from "Distinct Perceptions" and compete against the likes of 9 other established and emerging choreographers. What an honor!

Now, I know that all of the above may seem like major milestones (which they are), but today I am here to discuss a significant achievement that we just reached together. Almost 3 1/2 years after being thrust into this freelance lifestyle and beginning this blog to share my journey and knowledge as I learned the ropes, Life of a Freelance Dancer has officially reached 100,000 views. Back when I started writing the first of these 137 posts, I never imagined that I would have an audience reading from as close as the United States to as far as Australia. Dancers and freelancers alike from the United Kingdom, Phillippines, Russia, France, Japan, India, and beyond, check in regularly to see what is happening in my life, my art, and my mind. I am so appreciative of my audience and the support that I have received from you. A GREAT BIG THANK YOU to all of my readers for helping me achieve this milestone!

With all of this said and done, I want to reward you with some great content. I've been thinking about what to write for this post for awhile, as I noticed we would hit this marker at the beginning of the month. After much thought, I determined it would be best to share with you how my life has changed since I began freelancing, and writing this blog

My last day at PNB onstage w/Maria Chapman

Let's go back to the beginning. When I moved to Philadelphia on June 17th, 2011, I had big dreams. I was taking a huge risk, leaving Pacific Northwest Ballet to join the fledgling, more contemporary Ballet X. By joining this organization, I cut my former salary down by nearly 2/3's, cut my guaranteed work weeks practically in half, and gave up all of the benefits that came with a big company contract. Why? Because like most artists do, I wanted to stretch myself as far as I possibly could. If you had told me that 4 years later I would be completely in charge of running my own career, traveling the country regularly, creating my own projects, directing organizations, and much more, I would have probably laughed in your face. Little did I know at the time that I would stretch myself in ways that I couldn't have imagined.

When I first moved to Philly, I was used to having a regular schedule. In Seattle, we had a Monday through Friday work week. We would begin class at 10:15 am and end our rehearsal days at 7 pm. I assumed things would be the same. But when I started freelancing, things changed drastically. All of a sudden I was in charge of my own technique, seeking work, negotiating contracts, self-promotion, marketing, staying in shape, and much more. I went from only having to show up in the studio to doing every aspect necessary to have a chance to show up in the studio and perform. I went from stretching in the morning, taking technique class, and rehearsing all day to never having a moment to breathe. After nearly 3 years of barely ever taking a day off, I had too much. This was one of my first major freelancing lessons. I started to burn out and displayed symptoms of severe anxiety. Today, while I still live the same lifestyle that I began four years ago, I have learned to nearly always take Sunday completely off for myself (today being an exception to write this exciting, timely blog). By giving myself Sunday, I take some pressure off myself and have a chance to relax and refresh for the upcoming week. Dancing for a company, a two-day weekend was a given unless we were performing. Today, a two-day weekend happens maybe once or twice a year.

Another part of my life that has changed drastically since crossing the country to try something new is my mobility as an artist and my perception of what encompasses a long period away from home and my partner. I have this really bad habit of getting what I ask for, but not exactly how I thought I would get it. When I left PNB, I was really interested in making travel a part of my art form. When dancing at PNB, we rarely went on tour. This was something that I had always imagined would be a part of my career. When I joined Ballet X, there was talk that the company would have a few opportunities to tour each season. I never made it long enough with the company to attend any tours outside of the performance at an APAP conference in New York where I sustained the injury for which they eventually fired me. But once I began to freelance, things changed drastically.

Performing @ the Guggenheim (Photo: Matthew Murphy)

My first few freelancing gigs had me excited to travel, but nervous about leaving my partner for very small amounts of time. When I performed at the Guggenheim's Works & Process series, I wasn't too worried about being away from home for 3 weeks because my partner was to join me in NYC for a week in the middle. Next, I danced for the first time with Alaska Dance Theatre for 5 weeks. Again, I was lucky that my man joined me right in the middle of the gig. So, the longest we had been apart at the time was less than 14 days. I remember being so upset when I was invited to dance with Festival Ballet Providence and found out that we would be away from each other for over 3 weeks. It was the longest that we had ever not seen each other since we moved in together in 2006. Today, I have been away from home for nearly 4 months and the longest we have gone without seeing each other has been 2 months. It is hard and not my favorite part of freelancing, but we make it work for us through regular phone and skype sessions, a relaxed approach to communicating, and the advice of a counselor.

On the traveling front, I always imagined myself touring to major cities with the company I danced for headlining in this organization's productions. But the past four years have instead featured me traveling to cities large and small, near and far, all on my own. Up until this past June, in fact, I hadn't been home for longer than 7 week in 3 1/2 years. In this time, I have danced, choreographed, and taught in New York City, Anchorage, Long Island, Providence, Philadelphia, Rochester, D.C., Myrtle Beach, Los Angeles, West Virginia, Ventura, Walnut Creek, San Francisco, Fort Wayne, Lafayette, Oakland, Irvine, Little Rock, and a few more that I'm probably missing. I used to be afraid of traveling to smaller cities. I assumed that the people would be conservative in nature, the culture would be limited, and that I would run out of things to do. This is one place that freelancing has really changed my perception. Nearly each place that I have worked has shown me that, while in differing stages of development, there are amazing people and places almost everywhere in the country. I hope to expand my perception of this outside of our country in the near future!

My last day as Interim Artistic Director of Alaska Dance Theatre

Another area of my life that has changed greatly since I started freelancing has been my awareness of what I am capable of creating. As a dancer, you are expected to be submissive. Most dancers are always following the lead of somebody else, often dreaming of the day that they grab the wheel of their career. I guess I was lucky that I didn't have to wait for this to happen. When I was left without a company to call home, I had no choice but to take control of things, create my own opportunities, and expand my experience. Again, if you told me 4 years ago that I would direct Alaska Dance Theatre, choreograph for the National Choreographers Initiative, create my own summer intensive in Anchorage, teach at Peridance Capezio Center, write my very own popular blog, throw networking events for freelancers, or create a film project, I would have looked at you like you had 20 heads.

Many days, I just can't believe that I have experienced and made the things happen that I have. While my stress and anxiety levels have increased ten-fold since I began living the life of a freelance dancer, I wouldn't take back getting the chance to see where my mind and body can lead me. Even with all of the challenges that I have been through over these difficultly fruitful years, the opportunity to lead my own creativity and career have defined me in ways that would be impossible under the culture and structure of most dance companies. And while I miss that structure and safety net provided by working for an established organization, I will continue to value my freedom while I stay in this career-style. Thank you again for sharing this journey with me as I find my way through joy, struggle, and creativity. And CHEERS to the years of this to come!

Thanks for joining me on this journey to 100,000!!!!!

Help Core-ography Reach It's Goal - Final 3 Days of Fundraising Campaign

Hey LOFD fans! I want to leave a little note here that we are in the final 3 days of our fundraising campaign for our Core-ography project. We are only 1/3 of the way towards meeting our $6,000 goal and need your help! Would you be willing to make a donation of any size (they start at $10 and go up from there). If each of my readers donate at our minimal donation-level, we can easily meet our goal. We have great perks for donation levels from getting your name mentioned in the credits as a donor to skype sessions and personalized choreography made just for you by me! LOFD receives over 100 views daily from the United States to India, and all across Europe to South America!

You can follow this link (CLICK HERE) for more information about the project or to make a "tax-deductible" donation. Below, you can see all of our high caliber artists. Each of your donations help support telling these incredible artists life-defining stories.

Please consider helping us finish off this campaign with a bang!

Bridgett Zehr - Freelance Artist (former Principal w/English National Ballet, National Ballet of Canada, & Houston Ballet)
Brooklyn Mack - Principal w/Washington Ballet (former Principal w/Orlando Ballet & dancer w/Joffrey Ballet, American Ballet Theatre Studio Company. Princess Grace Fellowship Winner. Medalist - Varna, Jackson, Helsinki, Boston, & Korean International Ballet Competitions)
Lauren Fadeley - Principal w/Pennsylvania Ballet & Capezio Brand Athlete (former New York City Ballet, Indiana University, Academy Award-winning film Black Swan)
Andrew Brader - Complexions Contemporary Ballet (former Houston Ballet, Los Angeles Ballet, Ballet Met, Die Theater Chemnitz)
Maria Chapman - Principal w/Pacific Northwest Ballet & MPG Sportswear Messenger
John Lam - Principal w/Boston Ballet (Princess Grace Fellowship Winner)
Kiara Felder - Atlanta Ballet
Cervilio Amador - Principal w/Cincinnati Ballet (former National Ballet of Cuba)
Shira Lanyi - Freelance Artist (former Principal w/Ballet Israel & Richmond Ballet)
Allen Joseph - Freelance Artist (Glee - TV series, Festival Ballet Theatre, Cupcake Canne)
Kara Zimmerman - Joffrey Ballet (former Senior Soloist w/Cincinnati Ballet, Pacific Northwest Ballet)
Jessica Daley - Freelance Artist (former Koresh Dance Company, University of the Arts)

So You Think You Can Freelance?

Photo shoot at a freelancing gig (Photo: Shalem Photography)

It wouldn't be a typical week if somebody didn't reach out to me about the art of freelancing as a dancer, choreographer, or instructor. Sometimes, I get messages from dancers that have been dancing with a company for a period of time who feel like they need a change of scenery to freshen up their careers. At other times, I hear about dancers that would like to kickstart their career by getting some experience to put on their resume. While I am always happy to offer advice to professionals or hopeful pre-professionals, I find that these dancers don't always come to me having done much research about what it means and takes to be a freelance dancer. To help streamline the process, I would like to offer any dancer that is considering dabbling or immersing themselves in a freelance life these 10 questions to ask yourself before reaching out for advice on how to take the plunge into this challengingly rewarding careerstyle.

1. If you already have a company contract, what percentage of the time are you fulfilled vs. unfulfilled?

I can't tell you how many times I have heard dancers with glorious company contracts verbally announce that they are leaving their company at the end of the current season. Perhaps, they have had a few programs where they weren't casted as they wish or they don't feel appreciated for the time that they have put into an organization. No matter the circumstances behind their feelings, more often than not, the dancer is just venting. And let me tell you, dancers likely bitch more than any other species of human on Earth. With that said, once I left Pacific Northwest Ballet and got some experience in the freelance world, I realized that my lack of fulfillment was more situational than it was complete. I left the company for more reasons than just the stagnant feeling that loomed over my head like the grey, dreariness of the Pacific Northwest. I didn't like the city of Seattle as a home. But looking back at my level of fulfillment, I was fulfilled more than a majority of the time. For me, the less fulfilling moments were overwhelming enough to push me to leave the company. Take some time to assess your fulfillment ratio and consider the amount of work that goes into freelancing, the possibility of fewer experiences (whether more or less gratifying), and how much you value stability vs. artistic fulfillment.

"Oh...Honey...You're gonna be a star" (Danya mimicking Degas)

2. If you are finishing up your pre-professional training, are you honestly sure that you are qualified to dance at a professional level?

Alrighty. I'm just gonna put it out there. When people find out that I have had a successful career with companies large to small, it isn't uncommon for me to get this response. "Oh...How wonderful! You're a dancer! Well, my niece is 17 years old...and, well, she is so talented. She's gonna be a ballerina." I'm usually pretty reserved and guarded with these conversations, as I tend to be too honest and don't have much tolerance for patronizing people. When the photos inevitably come out, I am forced to help the auntie face the reality that their loved one does not have the appropriate skill, body type, or proper training to have a legitimate professional career. This is an unfortunate thing in the dance world. There is no accreditation system to say that a school with poor instruction can't take people's money for teaching poor technique. And when a dancer is the best in a bad school, they tend to think that they are much better than they actually are. Many dancers, unfortunately, suffer from what I call "American Idol Syndrome;" where their projected potential is far different than their true potential. Try visiting a few pre-professional schools, do a few auditions, or watch and compare with Youtube videos. Be realistic and make a decision. Take into consideration, "Is it just a hard year for me to get a job or am I not being offered jobs because I am not qualified to be hired?" 

3. What city do you live in?

This may not seem like the most important question, but where you live is quite relevant to being a freelancer. If you live in a small town, do you have access to professional levels classes? Is it extremely expensive to fly out of your airport? Are you able to keep up-to-date on trends? If you want to find substantial amounts of work and make networking connections, it is much more feasible to do that out of a big city that has an established dance scene. You can make a freelance career work from anywhere, but you will likely have to submit to community productions, work your ass off in your online marketing, or spend a great deal of time traveling into larger cities.

4. How do you cope with financial stress?

Unless you are a trust-fund baby or have the luxury of parents that have no problem supporting you well into your 20's, you need to look at your reaction to moments that were financially stressful. If, one time, your car broke down and you just used the last of your paycheck to pay all of your bills, how did you make things work? Did you crawl in a ball and cry until somebody else solved the issue for you? Or, when times get tight, where is the first place that you start to tighten your pockets? If you stopped taking classes so that you could go to the club with your friends, you are likely going to have issues. Freelancers need to be the most savvy financial assessors they can be. And when times get stressful, they need to be able to handle the heat.

5. Have you ever seen a professional contract and, if so, do you understand what most of the legal jargon is saying?

If you are performing in musical theatre or commercial work, you may possibly have an agent. But if you are finding work as a ballet or contemporary dancer, you are highly unlikely to have an agent (Believe me...I considered creating my own agency for freelance concert dancers). Considering the fact that the concert dance world is severely underfunded, you will likely be doing your own negotiating for pay, travel, housing, conditions, and anything else that you are going to need throughout your employment as an independent contractor. While you don't have to understand everything that is written in a contract, you need to know what you are signing. If you have never seen a contract before, consider going to the AGMA website (if you are union) or calling them up to see if you can get access to their contracts (understand that most independent contracting agreements are one to two pages long, unlike AGMA contracts). Otherwise, do some research or consult an attorney or law school friend to help you learn how to read a contract to protect yourself.

6. How do you take care of your body in your current situation? What are your plans to take care of yourself if/when you get injured?

One of my biggest challenges as a freelancer has been taking care of myself after an injury. People may think that they aren't likely to get injured or that they will just deal with it when it happens. Let me assure you that you will get injured if you stick to freelancing for more than a few months. The conditions are constantly changing, you are in unfamiliar working environments, and the work is always changing in style. When I was dancing with Pacific Northwest Ballet and Houston Ballet, we had physical therapy on-site and access to workers compensation, a multitude of high-level health professionals, and enough salary to cover any additional costs. When you freelance, you are on your own. If you don't enter freelancing with an injury plan (practitioners, how to pay, insurance, etc.), like I unfortunately did, it may cost you a job, your rent money, and/or your career. Create a plan and have an idea of what practitioners you can use for different situations.

Me in an old-school modern work - Threnody (Photo: Bill Hebert)

7. What types of works do you want to dance?

So, you are a neo-classically (Balanchine) trained dancer. You want to branch out into more contemporary work. Are you going to be happy leaving Balanchine behind? One thing I miss more than anything else is getting to dance the works of Mr. B on the regular. As a ballet dancer, with few exceptions, a majority of the freelance work that I have encountered either involve dancing full-length classical productions, edgy to post-modern contemporary works, or old-school modern works. If you want to dance the expensive repertoires of Balanchine, Robbins, Forsythe, Ratmansky, Wheeldon, and beyond, freelancing is unlikely for you.

8. You finish a show and your employer is nowhere to be found. Your flight is early in the morning and your rent is due in a few days. What do you do?

Honestly, this has NEVER happened to me. And I am quite grateful for this. But I have been in situations where I have had to stand up for myself. While it is important to attempt to remain as respectful as possible, it is impossible to have a fulfilling freelance career if you are a pushover. Yes, people may like you if you let them do whatever pleases them. But you will likely be unhappy in your work if you feel disrespected or in danger.

9. During extended lay-offs, summer breaks, or time off from school, did you take class? How did you motivate yourself?

One of my biggest fears about leaving a company atmosphere was that I was going to sleep in all the time, eat potato chips and ice cream daily, and get severely out of shape. Without the pressure of coming in to work each day to stay in shape, retain your casting, and (above all) collect your paycheck; do you have what it takes to motivate yourself to take technique class five days a week? A good gauge of this is to look at how you act during lay-offs, holday breaks, and extended times off. Are you the type of person that knows how to take a break to rest their body, but gets back into the studio with enough time to safely prepare for the next rehearsal period? Or are you that dancer that shows up the first day of rehearsal without having taken class for 5 weeks? 

10. What are your finest qualities as a dancer? Where does your dancing need work?

Perhaps, the most important quality of many freelancers is the ability to self-assess one's work. Yes, all professional dancers have some sense of what they need to do to improve themselves. But one quality that many dancers need work on developing is their ability to see what they are good at in the art form. The reason for this isn't only to boost one's confidence on days that they are feeling a bit down. More importantly, freelancers need to know their finest qualities because they need to know how to sell themselves at an audition, in a performance reel, and in an email. If you can't find the good and the bad, it may be challenging for you to improve on your own and put yourself out there to find work.

How Appropriate (Photo: Brian Mengini)

Now that you've taken the time to look over these questions and assess each of them for yourself, you might have a better idea of whether you want to leave your company contract and jump on the bus to freelance-ville. If you still find yourself enthusiastic and inspired about steering your own career, then you know where to get in contact with me for advice!

How Much Should I Get Paid?

Today, I’m going to discuss a topic that I’ve mostly avoided since starting this blog. It’s not that I’ve avoided talking about money because I’m afraid to share my worth. It is more that money, in this funny dance world, is a very complicated matter that isn’t always affected proportionately by worth and experience. With each experience that we have, our value should grow. But in the dance world, you can be offered to dance in two works of equal value in the same time-frame with the same company with one year in between them and get offered grossly disproportionate sums of money that, in reality, should be a marker representing your true value as an artist. Beyond that, there is always a chance that a dancer will underestimate their worth because they are afraid that they will be turned down for work. For these reasons, salary talk for freelance dancers is a tricky, fickle beast.

Most people would avoid putting their yearly salary out there for the public to see. I don’t feel it would be effective for me to announce my freelancing salary, but I am happy to share that when I left Pacific Northwest Ballet; after 7 years in the corps, collecting unemployment during lay-offs, and working as a union representative, I was making over $60,000 yearly. It was a cushy job that had great benefits and showed a personal investment by the company in my dedication to my workplace. Each year, whether I got bumped up in status (Apprentice, Corps, Senior Corps, Soloist, Principal), I got a seniority raise that loosely represented my accrued value to the company. Once I left PNB and started freelancing, I didn’t really know what to expect when it came to salary.

When I first started taking freelancing work, I would generally accept the financial offering of whomever was willing to hire me. Whether I was getting paid per show or per week, I wasn’t comfortable negotiating my own fees and I didn’t really understand how to properly define my worth. At the start, it was challenging for me to go from making $1,325 per week to being offered $400 per week. I often felt like I was selling out on my true worth. But what it came down to was this. Do I want to work or do I want to sit on my ass looking for work that made me feel like I was being compensated at my appropriate value?

I was lucky that I had my partner talking me through this challenging period. He kept reminding me this, “You built yourself up to the level that you were at with PNB and that took some time. You can’t expect to jump into freelancing and for everybody to treat you just like that. You need to put in the time and effort as a freelancer and build yourself back up from the beginning.” This advice turned out to be quite true.

People don't just hand you things! (Abby Relic & me wasting time backstage during rehearsal at PNB)

My first season dancing in multiple shows of the Nutcracker, I made less than half of what I make at the moment. Where I used to take whatever offers came my way and leave negotiation for my pay out of the equation, now I have a set rate that is generally non-negotiable (whether per week or per show). If my rate can’t be met, then I will pass the gig on to a friend that may need to build up their freelancing portfolio. While it wouldn’t be wise to share my rate publicly, I will note that I feel that after nearly four years of freelancing, I am getting paid somewhere near what I think my value is as a national-level Principal Guest Artist.

As for programs outside of Nutcracker, this is a completely different story. While I definitely do negotiate my rates for weeks of works and performances, it is trickier to determine what is acceptable for my services. My first freelancing jobs were somewhere within the range of $400-$600 per week or $500 per show. Most of the work that I performed ended up being on a weekly rate (which I always try to negotiate in the event of injury. If you get injured during a three-week rehearsal period and are getting paid per performance, then you are not getting any compensation for the work put in). The challenge of this period was that I couldn't afford to pay all of my bills, saving for self-employment taxes, and paying off debt that I had accrued during off periods at that rate. I took the work because there wasn't a great many calls coming in and because I was afraid to negotiate a different wage that might have changed the opinion of the director offering me the gig. During this period, I essentially ate up all of my savings that I had built before leaving my cushy job with PNB.

After a year of freelancing, I started making more sense of my negotiation strategy. When a company would low-ball me for my salary, I would tell them the absolute minimum figure that I had determined I needed to pay my bills, save for taxes, and put a little in savings for time between gigs. I knew it would be easier to negotiate my rate without feeling uncomfortable asking for more if I told the directors that it was the minimum for me to survive month to month. This went over well and showed that I wasn't greedy. The funny thing, though, is that my first job offering with the Colorado Ballet at the young age of 18 was for $500 per week. With nearly ten years of experience, I was traveling around the country begging companies to pay me just a little more than that base salary.

After my second year of freelancing, I started to realize that my work, my blog, and the validation that my product was very good was becoming better known. When work started coming my way, it was very rare for job offers to come in at the lower end of my survival number. Only two non-Nutcracker gigs came my way that were below the level of salary that I was regularly accruing. I finally hit a place where I felt that my value was being appropriately assessed. In the end, the reason that I chose to take those two jobs with a lower salary rate was because I was more interested in the experience than negotiating myself a higher salary. I was interested in working with the companies, directors, and choreographers that were involved in those programs. I also didn't negotiate with them because I was concerned that negotiating would deter them from holding their offer to me for work.

I always wanted to work w/ this lovely lady! Amy Seiwert running rehearsals at Alaska Dance Theatre

One tricky aspect of obtaining work as a freelancer is negotiating mindfully without overstepping the comfort zone of your possible employer. While many directors have a moderate range of flexibility with their financial offers, others have no wiggle room in their budget. Depending on the director and how much they want/need you, you could get what you want or turn them off from working with you. For instance, if you are working for a gig that will include 8 dancers and all of the dancers are being paid the same rate, it will be more difficult to negotiate a higher wage. Yes, maybe you have a bigger resume then them, but is it fair to pay differently if you are all performing the same load of work? There is no right or wrong answer to this, but there are exceptions. Often directors wont be comfortable giving preferential treatment to one dancer over another. Sometimes, it is beneficial to ask if there is any leeway in a company's budget before asking to negotiate. In these instances, you can only be hopeful that the director is being honest instead of tight-pocketed.

In the end, it is up to the dancer to assess their own value. Look at your experience, look at your recent work, and look at your monthly financial needs to determine what is an appropriate amount to seek. If you danced with a small regional company, don't go out looking for over $1000 per week. If you have a bigger name company on your resume with famous roles in well-known ballets, it will be easier for you to negotiate up. Even those dancers sometimes have to build their freelancing portfolio before they can survive off of this kind of work. Know your true worth, and not your ego's worth. And know that your true worth is malleable dependent upon the budget of the people offering you a job. Unfortunately, our arts world doesn't exist on the same plane as the sports or major for-profit worlds work. Don't accept work away from home (b/c if you are home, you can work multiple gigs, teach, etc.) if it doesn't cover all of your monthly bills, travel, and housing. And do your best to be thankful to those employers that offer you work at a rate that is too far below your standards. While you may feel offended by a low-balled offer, they may be in a building phase and trying to get, you, one of the best dancers they know. Take it as a compliment!

Always be gracious - Dancing Romeo w/ Fort Wayne Ballet (Photo: Jeffrey Crane)

Reacclimating to Home After Being Away

Excited to come home to Philly - Italian Market

On December 7th, I will return to Philadelphia after being away from home for 108 days, or about three and a half months. This has been the longest I have been away from home without at least passing through for a day or two in between gigs. The first time I spent more than a few weeks away from home, I was surprised to find that getting back into my normal patterns was much more difficult than I had expected. Spending any extended period of time in a different environment requires some adjusting to get back into the swing of things, even in the comfort of your own surroundings.

I've often found while preparing for a performance, my focus becomes very intense and I may become completely consumed by the process necessary to get ready for stage. When I worked at Pacific Northwest Ballet, this was built into the fabric of my every day life. I woke up in my own bed, worked at the same facility daily, and returned home to rest in my own apartment. When I had weekends off, I would rest, hang out with friends, and enjoy the surroundings of my city. Developing patterns over time and repetition are natural and make living your own chosen lifestyle comfortable.

Dance is my business (Photo: Brian Mengini)

While preparing for a show as a freelancer may be similar to my experience at PNB in some regards,
it can be quite different when you don't work where you reside. Essentially, a dancer is often forced to start from scratch with their lifestyle and friendships in each locale that they are hired. You generally can't call your close friends to hang out, go to that same yoga place that always helps you find your zen, find the exact same ingredients to that favorite meal you make every week, or drink at your favorite watering hole to let off some steam. Each freelancing gig can be an exciting, fresh adventure in a new city. But while you are building an alternative, short-term lifestyle elsewhere, everything still keeps running like usual back at home. Dealing with this reality can often be one of the biggest challenges for anybody that travels for extended periods of time with their work.

Back in 2012, when I first spent 5 weeks away from home with Alaska Dance Theatre, I was thrilled to return home to enjoy the familiar, see my partner and cats, and visit my friends and family. When I left home, tons of friends showed up to throw me a party to send me off on my adventure. Once in Anchorage, I became so immersed in my work that I didn't really think to shoot off a text message or make a phone call to check in with what was happening with most of those people. After my time away, I expected the exact same reception for my return upon my arrival. A few people had reached out to me on Facebook and stated how excited they were to see me. But the reality of my homecoming was more like walking onto an empty country field in the dead of night. Instead of stepping back into a scene of revelry, I came home to crickets. Most of those friends who sent me off were continuing on with their lives as they normally did. Nobody was holding their breath waiting for my plane to touch down.

Dan working from home

Beyond my local social network, another place that, surprisingly, had changed was in my home. While my partner and I had been together for over 7 years and talked on the phone nightly, he had started to develop patterns that didn't include me. Since he works from home, he had gotten used to working alone in our living space and enjoying the quiet and freedom that came with it. A simple midday question from me could lead to a stressful conversation about interrupting work-related activities. Where I used to be in a pattern of performing household chores, I had gotten more lax living in a home with a host family. I even expected extra attention. I felt like we had to make up for lost time. But things had continued on without me, even in my own home.

What I had originally thought would be an easy reintroduction, turned into a stressful period of examination and carefully executed re-entry. I spent my first week at home depressed and sitting around waiting for my phone to ring with invitations to reconnect. I quickly realized that any effort to see old friends was going to require me to be the one to reach out. One of my biggest challenges was that I had started freelancing almost immediately after moving to a new city. If I had been living in Philadelphia for a few years, it probably would have been easier to reconnect with friends. But I was still in the development period of most of my friendships in the city. I had to be very patient to connect again and found myself spending a lot of time exploring Philly on my own to occupy my time before my next travels.

Exploring Philly on my own

When it comes to reacclimating to living with somebody that you have a relationship with, I find the best route to take is to leave all expectation at the airplane door. Yes, you still have the same relationship that you used to have. But it is human nature to adapt to your surroundings quickly. For this reason, instead of stepping into your situation with expectations, I would suggest taking a step back and letting things find a refreshed order. Even though you missed each other, you don't have to feel that you have to fit five weeks of time into the first week after you've returned. Take your time, don't overwhelm one another, and allow for a little added space than you are used to. Where you may have spent every non-working moment together in the past, you have likely gotten used to spending a bit more time to yourself. See where each of you are and slowly start to get back into more common patterns.
 
Time away from your home environment allows for one to return with new and fresh excitement. But don't let expectation get in the way of a happy return. Reach out to friends while you travel and after you've come home, but don't put the pressure on yourself to have an exciting homecoming party waiting for you. Don't feel like you need to live your life exactly as you did before you left. And don't suffocate your loved ones with immediate expectations. While traveling for work and time apart can make the heart grow fonder, break mundane lifestyle patterns, and refresh your outlook on living, it can also add stress to what used to be regular patterns. If you approach your return with less expectation and more awareness, you can gain a great deal of life experience to enrich your lifestyle at home.

Me and Dan during 2 weeks inbetween gigs

Performing for No Reviews

The Seattle Times - one of PNB's regular reviewing publications

It was Black Friday, November 23, 2007, and it was opening night of Pacific Northwest Ballet's The Nutcracker. I was cast in one of my favorite roles, the Sword Doll. And this was one of the first shows of the holiday season, so I hadn't moved into my seasonal Nutcr-apathy yet. I was really hoping to impress the audience in what was one of the few featured roles I had danced at that point in my career. Shortly after this performance, a regular reviewer for CriticalDance, Dean Speer, wrote a review assessing the upkeep of this oft performed production. Towards the top of the piece he stated that the "phrasing is slightly different than in years past – more push and pull; attacking something then letting it resonate. I first noticed this with Barry Kerollis’ Sword-Dancer Doll – punching a sauté développé à la seconde, for example, and then letting it ‘sit’ for a moment before pushing on to the next step. I really liked this, as it allows each thing to read." This was one of my first public mentions. The notice instantly hooked me on getting my name written in any and all publications that came to review our shows.

As a student, the only time you really get a chance to perform publicly are in school shows, lecture demonstrations, and youth competitions. Unless a dancer is in their final years of training, they are unlikely to be involved in any production that get much press beyond small local newspapers and proud parent's Facebook posts. Other than the largest, most prestigious academy graduation performances, reviews are generally non-existent. Once you enter a professional company, it is much more common and appropriate to be publicly scrutinized.

I started dancing with PNB in July of 2004 after spending a year with Houston Ballet. By the time the above review was written, I was already in my fourth season as a professional. It is almost impossible for a Corps member to be called out unless they perform a role that steps out of the group. Could you imagine a dance critic writing, "The 4th flower from the right, Dancey McDancerson, showed great emotion in her developpes." For obvious reasons, it can take awhile for a dancer to get noticed and for critical mention to be publicly addressed. Speer's posting was probably just another Nutcracker article for him, but for me it meant much more. Beyond the fact that I got mentioned positively in a featured role, the interpretation that he was talking about was my own signature. Every year, anywhere from 5 to 10 dancers performed this role. Due to the lack of rehearsal leading into these performances, dancers often had a bit more wiggle room for interpretation. My musicality was uniquely my own and Mr. Speer showed appreciation for that.

After receiving a positive review, many dancers start looking forward to moments that could bring them to the attention of the public and, potentially, the director. The thought in my head was, "If the public notices me, the director must surely see that." And while this may not have been the best way to approach my performances, it definitely offered some great motivation.

As I started to get better roles, more critics in the Seattle area started to take notice of me. I became hungrier for attention. There is a great online forum that is both loved and hated by professional dancers, Ballet Alert. This site is a moderated forum for balletomanes across the world. On the site's message boards, ballet lovers, reviewers, professionals, parents, and more can discuss and debate anything relating to this untouchable profession. PNB had a large base of local fans that were very vocal about dancers and productions (albeit through a computer screen) on this website. Beyond the critiques written in professional publications, Ballet Alert followers often wrote their own reviews and perspectives to discuss and speculate. More often, their words are positive and pensive. But at other times, writings can descend into gossip, speculation, and bullying. As much as company members liked or disliked this forum, many of us kept close tabs on what people were writing.

My next four years passed at PNB and I started to find myself more tied to the reviews I received. I was starting to feel stagnant in the company and assumed that receiving glowing reviews would change my boss' mind. I remember debuting as Mercutio in Romeo et Juliette and waking up each morning to see if anybody had written anything about my performance. The reviews came out and they were quite positive. As the season continued, I added more roles to my resume and received greater reviews. Then, contract time came. I wasn't promoted. And to make matters worse, dancers in the company started coming up to me asking if I had been promoted (most dancers find out that they are getting promoted when they receive their letter of re-engagement). While this was a great compliment, it also left me quite confused. I had performed well all season. Critics and dancers alike had seen my progression. But when it came to the one opinion that mattered, it seemed that I had made no progress.

Studio showing of Maan Singh - Photo: Philip Gardner

After spending one more frustrating year in the same position, I decided to leave my big company roots to try something new. As I started to freelance in medium-sized companies, small organizations, and a variety of projects, I found that I was still eagerly seeking reviews at the end of our production weeks. But now I was performing in less popular venues. At one gig, I performed in a small studio in New York City. And the next was at a performing arts center in Anchorage, Alaska. People were coming to see me perform, but few people were posting about it in print or online.

I remember the first time I danced with Houston Ballet and realized that I didn't have any family or friends in the audience. I felt that I had no cheering section for whom to dance. I learned then to dance for myself and not for the accolades I would be showered with after shows. Once I moved to Seattle, I slowly started to create a presence that was recognizable by critics and regular audience members alike. And while I didn't always get press, I had motivation to impress. All of a sudden, I found myself back at square one onstage at the Wortham Theater with no support system in the audience. It was almost as if the reviews had become my support system.

I had a bit of an epiphany back in March when I performed Romeo and Juliet for Fort Wayne Ballet. My performances with the company marked the first time I was brought in as a Principal Guest Artist to lead a full-length ballet for a company. I have been brought in to dance leading roles many places, but never to carry the entire production. After all of my hard work, I spent a couple of days googling my name, Fort Wayne Ballet, and Romeo and Juliet. But nothing showed up. Initially, I was quite disappointed that nobody had been around to record the occasion. The company didn't film any of the shows I did, so I figured the best way to preserve the feeling that I had during and after the performance was to get an amazing review. You can only imagine the let down of putting that much pressure on getting public recognition in a town of 250,000 that is more interested in sports than arts.

A few weeks ago, I did my final search for a review of the performance. It took one last disappointing look for me to finally get it. What I was seeking was a physical memory of my performance because I so enjoyed it and didn't want to forget the experience. But in my efforts to hold on to the memory, instead of relishing the performance, I was seeking validation that it was a good memory. If this performance is as special to me as it was, I won't forget it. I won't forget the first time that I stared into Lucia Roger's eyes and felt that I saw my love for the first time. Or when we danced the MacMillan version of the Balcony pas, a duet that I had idolized as a teenager. Or how I legitimately cried onstage for the first time over the dead body of Mercutio. Or how the audience instantly rose to their feet after we had experienced a wildly realistic rollercoaster of emotions.

What it comes down to is that we have very few records of our careers as dancers. Photographs, footage, and reviews are the few records we will have of our careers when they are over. As a result of this difficult detail, I was relying too heavily on physical record to validate my experience. What really matters in dance, as in life, is how we felt while we were doing the things that we love. And those memories will be with us forever. A review might remind us of how others perceived us, but only we dancers can remember how it truly felt standing in the glow of the spotlight putting everything we have on the line.

Elizel Long and me from an unreviewed performance in Alaska - Photo: Shalem Photography