Halloween Edition - 11 Scary Thoughts Dancers Have

It's been a while since I've done a list post. And it's Halloween weekend, so I thought I'd have a little fun with this one. If you are looking for high-brow, in-depth quality content, stay tuned for my next post or look at my previous posts via this link. For now, please enjoy these 11 SCARY thoughts that different types of dancers have.

           
via GIPHY

The Freelance Dancer - "Well, this is a really nice gig, but I don't have anything else lined up after this. Could this be the end of my career?"

           
via GIPHY


The Street Dancer - "What if this subway car slams on the breaks while I'm doing my big finale?"

           
via GIPHY


The Company Dancer - "If I show up to class in costume, will the director think that I'm not serious about my dance career and take it out on me in casting?"

           
via GIPHY


The Open Class Dancer -"What am I going to make for dinner after this class?"

           
via GIPHY


The Broadway Dancer - "If I have to do this show one more time,  will I lose my mind!"

           
via GIPHY


The Break Dancer - "Does spinning on my head increase my risk of balding?"

           
via GIPHY


The Pre-Professional Dancer - "This is my second year at this finishing program. If I don't get a job by the end of this year, does that mean I need to quit and go to college?"

           
via GIPHY


The Ballroom Dancer - "Why is she talking to that other guy over there? Is she plotting to switch partners?"

           
via GIPHY


The Recreational Dancer - "What will ever come of my true aspirations to have a dance career if I'm not cast as Clara in The Nutcracker this year?"

           
via GIPHY


The Club Dancer - "If I go out there and dance, everybody is clearly going to only be watching and judging me, right?"

           
via GIPHY


The Stay-at-Home Dancer - "What if my Husband is secretly filming me sing and dance to my 90's playlist while I am vacuuming the floor to post it on the internet?"

           
via GIPHY

The Art of Putting Yourself Out There

An image of me up on the Steps on Broadway board (Photo: Shalem Photography)

I've been enjoying my time teaching at Steps on Broadway the past few weeks. I've had professionals in my classes from big companies to freelancers, received positive feedback from my peers and pianists, and felt a sense of fulfillment in my career that I've been lacking for some time. (Side note: I'm also guest teaching Intermediate Contemporary at Broadway Dance Center the next two Sundays, August 7 & 14,  from 7:30-9 PM. Come join me)  Recently, an old acquaintance offered me their compliments expressing how difficult it can be to break into an established institution like this great school. This got me thinking. While I still have a lot to do in order to get to where I want to be, it took a lot of hard, strategic work to gain the positions and experience I have had in my career. It has been a combination of effort, luck, and timing. But none of this stuff would have ever been possible if I hadn't figured out how and when to put my information out there most effectively.

There are a handful of challenges when it comes to putting yourself out there. First off, are you properly prepared to put out your best product? Also, are you following the appropriate channels of communication to get an "in" with a choreographer or director? Other things to consider include whether offering yourself up with less experience will invalidate future attempts to obtain work, if you have enough time to put true effort into your endeavors if the opportunity materializes, and whether the timing is right for you to push yourself out and forward in your career field. When thrusting oneself out of their comfort zone, all of these things need to be taken into consideration in order to build or better one's career and life.

The first thing to consider when pushing yourself in a new direction is whether you are properly prepared to accept the position if it actually offered it; whether it be trying out for that big Broadway show, seeking out a company class audition, or applying for that prestigious teaching position. We all have big dreams and career hopes. But if you aren't in a place to fully commit to and appropriately handle the work stresses that come with a specific job, it may not be the best time for you to apply for that position or audition for a new company or show. Especially for dancers, this can be a challenging one since you don't always know what you're getting yourself into until you're in the studio or on the stage. It is important to consider your training, attitude, mindset, and commitment abilities when putting oneself out there. You don't want to get the job before you're mentally or physically ready and fall apart. But at the same time, you don't want to hold yourself back if you are lacking confidence. It's a tricky line to consider.

Walking into Broadway Dance Center to teach my first Contemporary class at this amazing school

You also don't want to apply for a position that you probably can't fit into your schedule due to previous commitments. This can be especially tricky because dancers should constantly be auditioning to fine-tune their audition skills, to connect with those hiring, and to get an idea of whether they are ready to take on certain posts. Don't be afraid to attend a cattle call.  But if you really don't feel prepared for a specific position, it may be better to wait until you can show yourself at your best. Especially if you are very out of shape after an injury or time off, consider whether the chance to gain opportunity may risk further injury. Sometimes, people will remember you from application to application. So, be sure to keep in mind that auditioning for a gig completely unprepared may leave a lasting impression.

A misstep that a handful of dancers, choreographers, and instructors make is trying to use an acquaintance that is already involved in an organization to help you gain easier access to the people making decisions. This is a tricky one, as it sometimes works. But some of my most embarrassing memories are when I have tried to take the easy road and reached out to somebody I met once or twice. In trying to get an insider's advantage in my applications/auditions, I have overstepped social boundaries. If this way of putting yourself out there doesn't work to your favor, the next time you see this contact may be quite awkward.

If you barely know somebody and you want them to put in a good word for you or to forward your information to the person in charge, it could be seen as shady or show a general lack of awareness for the structure and culture of an organization. Sometimes, companies are very disjointed with a clear delineation between positions. For instance, a ballet master may be higher up in the system than a dancer and closer to the Artistic Director of a company. But they still answer to the director as their boss. So, it may not be appropriate (or even possibly offensive) for them to offer their advice on items including hiring, choreographic opportunities, and more. Again, this way of putting oneself out there has worked for me in the past. Just understand that you are taking a hearty risk by reaching out to someone for help that you barely know.

As for offering yourself up for a position that you appear to be under-qualified for, it is a different story. I learned from a good friend that applying for positions you don't feel ready for can act as great practice for when you actually have the experience to back up your application. And, sometimes, you're actually exactly what they are looking for. In these situations, it really comes down to the amount of effort you can put into preparing your materials. I know, for me, I'm tempted to apply for every inspiring position that becomes available. But I am so busy all the time, it isn't always practical to apply for jobs I am nearly positive I won't get. In building my knowledge of creating a cover letter and proper CV (aka resumé), I've applied for Artistic Director positions, Ballet Master jobs, and School Director opportunities. While the closest I've come was 2nd place to direct Rochester City Ballet, I know that I can still use a great deal of growth before I may be right to lead the size and quality establishment I dream of directing. So, when I feel that I have some free time or that a position is really important to me, I apply. And if I'm overwhelmed with work and a position pops up that sounds nice but is likely out of my league, I save my time and wait for the next practice session.

The biggest item out of your control when putting yourself out there is timing. It is true. Timing is everything. Sometimes, it is calculated and other times you have no idea that now is the right time. This is what is most difficult about making decisions pertaining to your career and seeking success. An artist may not feel ready for something they are more than prepared to take on. Or, on the other hand, they may feel that they are the one and only fit for a position that will end up being far out of their reach. This is the one factor you can count on being confusing and out of your control. But don't let the idea of proper timing deter you from trying to reach your dreams. The timing factor almost invalidates many of the points I wrote above. If you put yourself out there with the right timing (even if you aren't prepared, don't have the time, or more), you can get a dream job and prove all of these factors inconsequential.

Dancers, choreographers, instructors, and most artists have a tendency to listen to the nag of never-ending feelings of inadequacy. This can often push their art to new heights as they try to make up for this faux perception. But if your gauge and perception of true self-worth is off, you may be stifling opportunity. I suggest taking a deep, lengthy look at yourself. Then see your reflection in friends, colleagues, and peers reactions to your work. In the end, I always say artists should continuously put themselves out there. So, don't read this post and feel like you should be holding back. I hope you read this and look at it as a tool to help you make better, more informed decisions. Cheers!

I'm a Modern Day Gypsy

Typical moment in the life of a Modern Day Gypsy

Nearly two weeks ago, about an hour after midnight, I laid my head to rest at my Washington Heights sublet. It was snowing again, which wasn’t shocking considering the timing of my past four Bolt Bus trips back home to Philadelphia and how they each coincided with some type of snow event. When I left the apartment scurrying amongst flurries the next morning, I knew that had been my last night in this ultra-Spanish neighborhood that was the inspiration for the Broadway musical, “In The Heights.” When I returned from Philly a week later, I’d be laying to rest on my friend’s couch in the refined gayborhood of Chelsea. After my fourth night there, I left this afternoon to embark on a weekend trip to Los Angeles to celebrate the life of my great friend and benefactor, Mimi Chiang. It may end, though, with me sleeping at the airport. My first flight was cancelled and my re-booked flight officially has me listed on standby. When I lay down to rest (hopefully tonight) in the Pacific Palisades, my mind may drift in and out of strategic problem solving to determine where I’ll stay when I return. Trying to find a short-term sublet in New York City is a difficult task. It’s been a stressful search, but I’ll just deal with it when I have a free moment. I know your first thought, “Gosh…I’d be utterly panicked right now!” Oh, I’m getting there. But a modern day gypsy must live for adventure.

Back when I first moved to Philadelphia in June of 2011, I met a peer and colleague whom I had known of since competing against him in the first two years of the international youth ballet competition, Youth America Grand Prix (circa 2000). Robert Colby Damon, or Colby, had been working as a freelance artist for a few years by that point. I knew, with my 22-week contract, that I’d have to endure a small amount of freelancing work. But I had no idea what I was truly in for. Colby and I used to talk about his couch-surfing habits and his fly by the seat of his pants housing situations. I probably sat talking to him, mouth agape, trying to comprehend how he lived like this. Little did I know, that I was about to fly through my own crash course in modern day gypsy-ism.

My First Gypsy Bed in NYC

I didn’t start off living this crazy, nationally-touring freelance lifestyle at such a fast clip. My first stay in somebody else’s home was in New York City for 3 weeks when I performed at the Guggenheim. It was nearly 3 months that I slept in my own bed after that. Then, I spent 5 weeks residing with a host family in Anchorage. Once I lost my contract with Ballet X, things picked up at an almost frenzied pace. 1 week on Long Island, 3 weeks in Providence, 1 week in New Hampshire. Dancing a summer gig in Philadelphia was a nice respite from what was about to come. Within 2 years, I would see Rochester twice, Myrtle Beach, Virginia, West Virginia, Louisiana, San Francisco (twice), Walnut Creek, Los Angeles (too many times to count), Anchorage (again and again), Indiana, and more and more and more. Aside from 5 months at home at the beginning of 2015, I haven’t stayed put for more than a few weeks for over 4 years.

My Washington Heights Sublet & My Weekly Packing Ritual

What does it feel like to travel as much as I do? It requires a certain sense of adventure and freedom from expectation. It necessitates one to go with the flow. Oddly enough, I find myself micromanaging my life when I return home to my apartment in Philadelphia. Likely because I finally feel like I can control my environment. When people meet me in gypsy-mode, they often comment that I am so laid back. Instead of plastering on this facade, I learned that it is just easier to submit to the uncertainty and confusion that can come from changing things up on the regular.

One thing that a lot of people wonder is how I cope with the irregularity of this lifestyle. Honestly, sometimes, I don’t. Sometimes, I ignore my own needs and keep pressing forth to create my art and pay my bills. This is a bad way to deal with things. And as I learned back in 2014, it can lead to severe, nearly-crippling burn out. What I have found that helps is to acclimate fast, find what comforts you absolutely require, and to stay connected with people in your life in order to maintain some semblance of normalcy.

Seen on my acclimation walk in Richmond, VA

To acclimate myself to a new situation, If time allows, I will always go for an extremely long walk (or drive if that is available) around the neighborhood that I am living in. Knowing where food, drink, and toiletry options are helps a lot. Do keep in mind that you will likely spend more money the first few days, as you won’t know what stores in neighborhoods provide the best deals. When I first began subletting in the Heights, I paid nearly $5 for one of my favorite snacks when the grocery store a block away sold it for $2 less. It’s essentially the equivalent to moving your entire apartment and adjusting to that new neighborhood, only every couple of days or weeks.

As for comforts, I know I’m a fully-grown man, but I travel and sleep with a little stuffed animal that my partner gave me as a gift the first year that I started traveling for work. I haven’t slept with a stuffed animal since I was a little kid. But the discomfort of sleeping somewhere foreign and having an empty bed makes this more comforting than you could imagine. Or in another case, if your morning routine requires coffee (like mine, and lots of it), if coffee isn’t readily available, buy some instant coffee. No matter how poor the quality of the brew, it will be comforting to know it is still somewhat within your control.

Lastly, be sure to keep communication lines open with friends and family. One of my biggest challenges, as my workload involves a great deal of in-studio and out of studio effort, is to make contact with those that I love and who love me back. Text messages don't always feel extremely personal. I like to use chat apps (like Facebook messenger), phone calls, or Facetime/Skype calls to have a full conversation versus broken apart text chats that may span days. I feel it is important for any gypsy to be surrounded by people they know beyond acquaintances on a regular basis, even if not in person. At times, I have felt like I was losing sense of who I was before I started freelancing. I used to have a group of friends and co-workers that would joke, tease, and laugh with (and sometimes at) me. Whether they were lovingly pointing out my flaws or supporting me in an unnecessary moment of distress, I always knew who I was as I saw my reflection in their attention. I lost this for some time as I became too focused on my work. So, be sure to note the factors that bring normalcy into your life and try to keep them with you on the fly.

Sometimes, I wish that I never knew what it felt like to be a gypsy. And part of the reason that I am residentially floating around New York City is to find a place to call my career-home. It’s both emotionally and physically exhausting. But at the same time, I find myself constantly peering back into history at my 15 year old self and imagining what he would think if somebody told him this would be his life one day. It’s fascinating and horrifying. Exciting and nerve-wracking. I don’t have long flowing garb or dangly earrings. I’m not quick-witted or sassy. I’m a 5’ 10’’ Jewish gay white boy who wears the same clothes that everybody else does. Yet, it wouldn’t be odd for you to see me pass you by with a carry-on sized piece of luggage dragging behind me. My name is Barry Kerollis and I am a modern day gypsy.

Living that Gypsy Life

LOFD receives significant mention in Dance Magazine

I began Life of a Freelance Dancer nearly 4 years ago hoping to make a journal of my journey as I entered the world of working as a freelance artist. My plan was to document my experiences as a sort of guidebook for any dancer wishing to grab the reigns of their own career away from any permanent contract work. Little could I have imagined that it would become what it is today.

I was contacted a few months back to be interviewed by Dance Magazine about my Core-ography project, but was surprised that they had a lot of questions to ask about this blog. Consistency and a massive amount of hard work does pay off. Check out this online version of the article which features both myself and New York City Ballet's (and former Ivy Smith on Broadway's On the Town) Megan Fairchild. Read about how we are finding unique new media to break the fourth wall with our audiences. Or you could always purchase this month's Dance Magazine to see it in print!

8 Things You May Not Know About Me

Look! I got equipment for my project. Thanks Career Transitions for Dancers!

I've been posting a lot about my project, how to make your own, and my fundraising efforts over the past handful of blogs. I'm thinking that it may be time to take a little break from all of this explaining and self-promotion and share a mindless list post. It's been awhile since I've written any random lists for my readers. So in honor of today's change to the month of August, I'd like to share 8 (get it? The 8th month) things that you may not know about me. Enjoy!

1. When I was a kid, I was really torn about my future career. I really wanted to be a dancer. But I was actually equally passionate about becoming a meteorologist. My family used to joke that I would become a dancing weatherman. In between all of my time in school and dance classes, I wouldn't watch Nickelodeon or kids programming. Instead, I would sit glued to The Weather Channel.

I <3 NYC (from my Instagram feed)

2. Even though I was raised only 2 hours away from New York City, I never ventured into its cavernous, skyscraper-ed streets until I was 14. A great friend and her family (we went all the way back to pre-school together and are still friends today) kindly treated me to a day-long bus tour to see the city and a Broadway show (Titanic...It was definitely sinkable). While we saw the show and had a classy dinner, the only thing I vividly remember was taking a rest and sitting next to my friend and her mother at a fountain near Radio City Music Hall, where we people watched for a half hour. When I saw a businesswoman in a classy dress and sneakers running to hail a cab, I knew that New York needed to be a major part of my life. I'm still grateful for that trip today. Changed my life.

3. I lived in Seattle for 7 years and only began drinking coffee during the last 6 months of my stay there. This is one of my biggest regrets in life!

Please meet Psycho

4. When I was 15, my mom was considering getting a new cat. Being a quirky teenage boy, I told her she should name the new cat Psycho. She vetoed that idea. My response? "You wait til I get my first cat. Its name will absolutely be Psycho!" And you know what? Seven years later, at the age of 22, I got two cats and named one of them Psycho.

5. Yes, I'm 31 years old. And, Yes, I watch Spongebob for hours and hours on the weekends!

6. I talk about my personal life a lot on here, but I rarely talk about my family. I'm kind of odd, in a sense, that I don't have a great sense of family. Not that I don't love my family. My parents divorced when I was 1 and my father and his side of the family were never a big part of my life. My grandmother was a lovely lady who had a tendency to hold grudges. So, we never really saw that side of the family either. Aside from my mom, step dad, older sister, much younger brother (11 years), grandmother, and uncle, I had no contact with the rest of my family. To make up for it, I had my dance family. Some of my extended family has reached out to me as I have become an adult, but I found it challenging to accept their immediate love and support when I don't really know them or feel/understand that connection.

My concept of family? Most of them are in there/I couldn't find a clear shot of all of us

7. My partner and I are obsessed with graffiti art and collect vinyl toys. One of our favorite things when visiting other cities is to find street art and stores that sell these quirky toys (like Kid Robot). We have an accrued collection of well over 100 of these fun pieces of art.

Anniversary gift - Art by Lora Zombie

8. I was afraid of small cities and towns until I started freelancing. My entire life has been centered around larger cities. I was raised outside of Philadelphia and have lived in D.C., New York, Houston, Seattle, and back to Philly. When I found out that I was heading to places like Anchorage, Fort Wayne, Myrtle Beach, and Rochester, NY, I was genuinely frightened. I don't know exactly why, but I think I was convinced that people who don't live in big cities were conservative and judgmental of my lifestyle. I'm really glad that I've had the experience of freelancing because it has shown me that these are amazing places with even better people living there!

Finding your comforts in a hotel

Unless you live and freelance only in New York City, a majority of the freelancing that dancers do takes them away from home. Sometimes, you will stay with a host family. At other times, like I am right now, you will be put in a hotel for weeks at a time. While staying in a hotel sounds fun, exotic, and vacation-like, it can leave you feeling quarantined from society and lonely. To fend off these feelings, I have compiled this list of things you can do to find your creature comforts and to feel like you are still an active part of society.

- Sitting in a hotel in a suburban location can become a redundant experience. It is easy to get stuck in boring patterns due to an inability to get around much on your own. Try changing up your routine. Eat out some days, eat in others. Call an old friend that you haven't talked to for a long time to reconnect. Take a bath. Use the pool or hot tub. Watch TV. Schedule a movie night and rent a pay-per-view movie. Interact with the hotel staff. Go for a walk. Try to get out of your mundane patterns and do something different every day.

I went for a short drive along Lake Ontario before rehearsal

- Staying at a hotel rarely allots you a stove or a microwave to prepare your own meals. This usually leads to one of the least comfortable situations for many people. Eating alone at a restaurant. When I first started writing this post, I was doing exactly this. I walked into the restaurant and the host insisted that I would probably enjoy (or...erm...feel more comfortable) eating at the bar. But I wanted to sit at a nice table in the main dining area...by myself. Then, when my server walked up to me, he stated, "you must be waiting for a pretty lady." He must have missed the memo, or multiple memos. Any newbie at eating alone might have felt embarrassed or extremely awkward in this situation, but after a few years on the road I am a pro at eating alone. Bring a book or newspaper. Bring your smart phone and catch up on social media or download a new game to play. Or, like me, bring a pen and paper to journal, log, blog, or anything else that you would like to document or write about. A nice glass of wine will help relax your discomfort, too. Or just sit back, breath, and take in the characters sitting around the restaurant having dinner. I always find great entertainment watching how locals interact with one another.

My items from home

- For me, one of the least comfortable things about staying in a hotel is the sterility and impersonal feeling that most rooms share. You don't have any personal home-y touches. You didn't decorate the room. What I always try to do is to bring a few things from home that make me feel like I am closer to home. It would weigh your luggage down if you carried your favorite piece of artwork. What I do is carry a very few lightweight items with me. I always bring one or two unframed 4x6 photos with me to decorate the room and remind me of loved ones. The pictures tend to get beat up a bit, but they still make me happy. I also have a stuffed sock monkey that my partner gave me as a gift. Yeah, I'll admit that I sleep with it. I haven't slept with a stuffed animal since I was 4 years old. But, only when I am traveling, I sleep with this stuffed creature.

- I always go on an extensive search for new music on ITunes in the days before departing for a gig. That way I have some new music to go along with my old music. I have an IPhone, which has a speaker loud enough for me to listen to music. But if you don't have a phone with these capabilities, consider buying cheap, portable speakers that connect either to your computer or MP3 device. I know I am late to the game, but I have also recently discovered the joys of Pandora. You can type in your favorite artist, song, or genre of music and it plays random songs, like a personalized radio station, for free. I feel music drowns out the stifling silence of sitting in a hotel room.

- One of my biggest issues when staying at a hotel is that I get lonely. After a long day at work, dancers often want to vegetate and rest their body and mind for the next day. It isn't uncommon for dancers to reject invitations to hang out. Sometimes, it is necessary to fight the urge to act like a hermit and enjoy some company. While an invitation from a co-worker may not always sound enticing at first, most of the time you end up enjoying yourself more than you would have staying by yourself in your room. Getting out and being around people will not only keep you company, but it will forge new friendships and relationships.

- You won't have the luxury of having a DVR to record and watch your favorite television shows when you are at a hotel. Sometimes, the wireless doesn't always work well enough to download video. In the worst of situations (for me at least), there is no internet. Always come prepared with a handful of your favorite DVD's. I always bring a few seasons of different TV series on DVD of my favorite shows; like American Dad, It's Always Sunny, and South Park. I like to take a relaxing bath for my muscles, pop a DVD in my computer, and have a good laugh.

- One of my biggest mental comforts is having access to a gym. The gym is an important part of my daily routine at home. What does one do if there is no gym at their hotel or affordable gym options nearby? This one is hard for me. I tend to associate my place of rest, whether it be my home or a room with a bed, with nothing other than that. I can tell myself that I will work out at some point, but it becomes very difficult once I sit down and start to relax. I find that when I wait until later in the day, this effect gets even worse. So, I have created a set of exercises that simulate what I would do in my regular gym workout. And while I despise them, I can do them all without any equipment that I use in my regular routine. I find if I do these exercises earlier in the day, prior to class or rehearsal, I am more likely to complete them. If I wait until afterwards, I do exactly what is supposed to be done in your bedroom. Rest.

- I always make sure to show up to a gig with a task to complete that doesn't have to be finished by the time I leave. You never know how much free time you will have and it is better to have a backup plan if you have no other options. For instance, my current task that I hope to complete during my time preparing and performing the Cavalier in The Nutcracker with Rochester City Ballet is to start compiling a list of ballet companies and Broadway shows that I find interesting. I have slowly been gathering information to help clarify the next step of my career. While I am lucky to have friends here from last year and a car to drive myself around, there are still times where I find myself pent up in my hotel room. This is one way to be proactive in my down-time and to occupy hours sitting in my room.

Glad to be back in the studio at RCB rehearsing with my Sugar Plum, Jessie Tretter

Freelancing is rarely forever

Maybe I am an alien???

I've said it once and I'll say it a million more times. Freelancing is a very difficult career. I've spent the last two and a half years calling Philadelphia my home, but living with host families and in hotels across the country. I have spent more nights sleeping in guest bedrooms than I have my own. In fact, this past week I turned to my partner and told him, "I'm an alien." OK, so maybe that is a really odd/awkward statement to make. But for anybody that knows me and the way my brain works, it makes total sense. I don't feel like I belong anywhere. When I'm home, nothing seems familiar and when I am away everything is foreign. With all of this said, I was given some wise advice from the father of one of my colleague's early on in my career at PNB. "If you want to accomplish something, you need to put it in writing." So, this has been brewing for a long while now, but it has taken time to hone in on the issue and its' solution. I'm ready to put this one in writing. And with all my efforts to keep the integrity of this blog an open and honest journal and tool into freelance work and living in the dance world, I'd rather share the true experience of a freelance dancer than the glorified, overcoming adversity tale that we, as a society, are trained to enjoy and reward. I need to greatly slow down my freelancing. There. I said it. ::breathes out::

I didn't choose freelancing. I could've chosen not to freelance. There is this saying that "you don't choose ballet, it chooses you." I don't remember who said it first. But however cliche it sounds, it is true. Ballet and technical dance in general are not kind arts. As a child, you are put into this art form because parents think it is cute, good exercise, and fun. This is one of the greatest facades I have ever known. Ballet is grueling, torturous hard work that is generally unforgiving, aesthetically-elitist, and selfish. Those that are lucky enough to enter the professional ballet world learn very quickly if they were chosen by it. I've seen many magnificently talented dancers quit during their first few years with a company due to injury, poor coping skills, burnout, or unhappiness with casting. These people weren't the chosen ones. Those that are chosen will suffer through less than ideal circumstances for three reasons; to defeat adversity, to savor those rare moments when ballet does give back, and because they need to dance. When I suffered my injury nearly two years ago and was unfairly let go from my company job, there was no question that I needed to dance. It was only a matter of how. At the time, my only option was freelancing.

This costume wasn't a highlight of my freelancing career

While ballet can be challenging, freelancing (on it's own) can be equally unforgiving. Put the two together and, at times, this avenue to dance can be wearing. While I have had some lovely experiences freelancing, I have also seen a darker side of our art. The term starving artist must have been borne alongside the term freelance artist. While I have been lucky enough to sustain myself over the past 2 1/2 years on dancing and teaching, most freelance dancers I know survive on hours of work doing non-dance jobs. This takes away from time they could be investing in the studio and it takes away from their energy levels to perform well. My savings account has dwindled well below my comfort zone. And I am beginning to feel the pressure of this lifestyle; keeping myself in shape and motivated, never-ending work searches, neglecting body maintenance, and monetary distress. Conditions, non-professional work, salary, self-negotiating, inconsistent work, and more make the emotional challenges of freelancing overwhelming at a certain point. These things are most likely the reasons that most of my high-level freelancing friends take big breaks from the lifestyle, as well. I do think my time for an extended break has come.

With all of this negative, also comes the positive. I have never felt freer artistically since I started traveling on my own. The good jobs that I get are usually quite professional, where those in charge understand the professionalism that goes along with my credentials. These lead to trusting relationships, where I have been able to have more say in my product. I have seen parts of the world I wouldn't have seen otherwise. And for every 5 to 10 jobs that pay poorly, there is usually 1 or 2 that make you feel like a celebrity. But all in all, it is the people that you meet along the way that make it worthwhile. And the privilege to see that there are amazing dance artists everywhere has been eye-opening; in every company and in every project that I have been a part of. Lastly, it is really gratifying to know that I can make a dance career happen on my own. No company, agent, or individual to take credit, except myself.

So, I guess the big question is what is next? Well, the big plan was this. I was very inspired by the audition process for Chris Wheeldon's American in Paris. I would love to explore the world of musical theatre and Broadway, as I feel that joining that world would be coming full circle with my training. When I was a teenager, Riz-Biz Productions founder and former A Chorus Line dancer, Bob Rizzo, took me under his wing.  Everybody and their mother told me to stop dreaming about ballet and go into musical theatre. They told me this because I was known for my personality onstage and clearly behind in my ballet technique. The only issue with this is that I didn't have proper vocal training and I had fallen in love with ballet. So, included in my plan is a period of vocal training and, maybe even, some acting lessons.

This was my original plan. Im in khakis on the right. West Side Story Suite by Jerome Robbins (Photo: Angela Sterling)

This was the plan until I went down to Los Angeles to dance with Barak Ballet. I've been pulled into conversations a lot lately about my ballet career. If I start to focus on Broadway, does that mean that it could be the beginning of the end of my ballet career? Not necessarily. But when three established people in the dance world; a respected dance critic, a former Balanchine ballerina and Balanchine Trust repetiteur, and well-respected teacher, pull you aside during the same week and tell you that you need to go back into a ballet company, you can't help but think that the universe is trying to tell you something. And even worse, or better, it was echoing a little voice that has been screaming for attention in the back of my head for quite a while now. I miss dancing for a ballet company. I miss being in constant preparation for a production. I miss coming to company class everyday with my colleagues and a live pianist. I miss a regular community. I miss having a live orchestra. I miss a lot of that life.

So what happens with my freelancing? Well, until I figure all of this out, I will continue freelancing. My plan is to start slowing my traveling down over the first six months of the new year. I'm currently searching for teaching work to reestablish my savings account. Eventually, I hope to only take work that I really, really, really want to do. As this happens, I plan on beginning work for both of my plans. I will work towards both to see which seems like a more viable option. My end goal is to either join a ballet company or be auditioning for shows in New York City by September.

My end goal

Does this mean that this is the end of Life of a Freelance Dancer? Absolutely not! One thing I do know, it was a difficult challenge to learn how to freelance. And now that I know the ropes of this segment of the dance world, it will always be a part of my career. I never said that I was going to stop freelancing. I just desperately need to find home, stability, and lower my stress level. Even if I have periods where I am not freelancing or do join a company again, I will continue to write about my experiences and educate future freelancers on the intricacies of this world. And the best thing about a blog like this is that it is not confined to one area of our community. Anybody can be a freelancer at any point, whether they are in a company, doing a long term gig, or freelancing full-time. Thank you to all of my readers for your continued support. I look forward to many years of advice, enlightenment, and experiences. And thank you for letting me share my true, honest experiences with all of you!

Why "30" is a frightening age for most dancers

Alright. Alright. I turned 30 a few weeks ago. I'm lucky that I still look like I'm in my mid-twenties (or so people have told me), even though I have stepped quietly into my thirties. When revealing my age to other dancers over the past few years, I have been encouraged to lie about my age multiple times. "Why would you tell me the truth when you could easily lie down a few years." While I couldn't imagine telling people I was 25, it does make one consider if age is really that important in dance. Why does it matter if you still look and dance young.

Blowing out candles on my 30th birthday

During the weeks leading up to my mid-October birthday, I slowly spiraled into a bit of a depression. I was, mostly, in denial about the reasoning, but what it came down to was that I wouldn't be home on my birthday, my partner wouldn't be joining me in Los Angeles due to financial constraints, and I had told myself for years that I wanted to dance until I am at least 30. As the day got closer, I became more anxious, stressed, and low. Then, the day came. My host family made me feel special, my new friends made me feel cared about, my phone and Facebook exploded with love, and I was in the studio rehearsing for a show that I was excited to perform. The day came and the day passed. And I was left with a comfortable feeling in my chest. It really wasn't that big of a deal. So, why did I freak out about turning 30?

The number one fear of every single dancer is that their career will end today. We know it will end, but we don't know when. How will I go? Will I get bored? Will I have a traumatic fall? Will my body start giving out? Will I get fired and not find another job? Or will I get to choose when I go and how I go? The reality of it all? Who knows. And while we are enjoying a career in a field that is nearly impossible to become a part of, more often than not, we are trying to put off the imminent end, one plie and day at a time. We have all heard stories of harsh endings to a promising career. Most of us professionals have stood behind a fellow dancer as they take their final bow. The end is almost always bittersweet, but more often bitter and less often sweet. With all of this said, the age 30 represents a lot to many dancers.

During the summer of 2003, I transitioned from student to professional. A week before I left home to start my career with Houston Ballet, I got some very wise advice from a teacher that had just left Miami City Ballet at the age of 24. She told me to stay away from negative dancers. Her advice continued, "There will always be dancers who bitch and complain about anything and everything. If you hang out with them, even if you feel positive about work, they will bring you down and, eventually, you may start to feel the same way." This was some of the most valuable advice I ever received. And with that advice, I set a goal for myself. I want my career to outlast her impressive, but short 6-year career. Once I hit 24, I had to set a new goal because I still felt I had a lot of time. After some thought, I decided that my next marker would be the age of 30. My mentor and childhood dance teacher danced until she was 30. It seemed an obvious age to strive and reach towards. Once I hit 30, I should feel content and successful. Right?

Dancing Mercutio at 26 w/ James Moore (Photo: Angela Sterling)

When I was 26 years old, I went in for my annual artistic evaluation with the director of Pacific Northwest Ballet, Peter Boal. These contractually-obligated, yearly meetings are a time to get some feedback and to give some feedback. Peter asked me how old I was. When I said that I was 26, he nodded and smiled. "Yes. Yes. You have a few years left in you." All in all, I think Peter was trying to pay me a compliment. But immediately my insecurities about the imminent end of my career kicked in. What was he trying to say? In my vocabulary, few means 3. Did he just mark me with an
expiration date? How dare he say that. Is he going to fire me when I turn 30? At the beginning of the next season, I decided I would leave the company at the end of that season. There were a few other factors involved, but I honestly think that this one, simple comment stayed with me and was a major factor in my decision to go. I was sure that I would be pushed out of the company by the time I was 30, so I felt that I needed to leave to give myself a chance to continue dancing beyond that.

During my audition tour, I found a mixed bag of responses in my efforts to obtain a new job. I just spent 7 years dancing with one of the top companies in the country, where I had danced a handful of leading roles. Shouldn't everyone want to get a hold of me? What I found during my tour was that there is a lot more to hiring a dancer than their ability, potential, and/or notoriety. Older dancers are more experienced and they expect to be compensated for that time put in. We are more expensive. And, yes, I was an older dancer at the age of 27. Also, if a dancer goes to an AGMA company after already having danced for one, they can not be demoted. They must enter the company at the same or higher rank than they previously were with their former company. Beyond this, when a student is being hired into a company, they are, most often, hired purely on their potential. When a company contracts a more experienced dancer, they are less likely to hire a dancer for their potential and more likely to hire them if they know they are planning on moving them forward in the company. There are few mid-career dancers hired with the thought that they may be a valuable corps member or that they may have the potential to grow into a higher ranked dancer. For some of these reasons, it was very difficult for me to find a job as a middle-aged dancer.

Although I had a lot of disheartening realizations during my audition tour, there was one moment that really struck me. I have always been interested in the contemporary side of dance. One of my audition stops, which frightened me more than any other, was auditioning for Hubbard Street Dance Chicago. This was way out of my comfort zone and knowledge of the dance world. After taking class for a few days and learning a bit of repertoire, I sat down to speak with the artistic director, Glenn Edgerton. Glenn told me that he saw a lot of potential in me and thought if I got more contemporary work under my belt and came back to audition, that I might be a good candidate for the company. Following this, he asked me the same question that had been posed to me a year prior, "How old are you?" I stated my age and Mr. Edgerton quickly responded, "Oh good. You still have plenty of time." I was taken aback. For the last year, I was convinced that my career would be dead by the age of 30. This conversation gave me hope then and it gives me hope today.

As we all know, soon after this audition tour, I took a job in Philadelphia, which eventually led to me freelancing full-time. I've discussed in previous blog posts that it can become easy to live in a state of fear that your career is coming to an end when freelancing. Mine has continued through my late twenties all of my own making. And it is wildly stressful and taxing. So, as my 30th birthday approached, I started to think. "Well, my goal was to dance until I am 30. And this past year was successful, but emotionally and financially straining. How much longer can I do this? Is this it? Is this the goal I'm reaching where there won't be a next goal?" This conversation started playing itself over and over again in my head. And it is a very dangerous conversation to be having. Fortunately and unfortunately, the conversation stopped when the clock hit October 14th and I entered into middle-aged/older-aged dancer territory.

What I have learned since that day is pretty obvious to everyone and everything that doesn't exist inside my head. Nothing has changed. I am still dancing. I still want to dance. I didn't hit 30 and know the exact date of the death of my dance career. I still take class every day. My body didn't instantaneously begin to fall apart like Cinderella's attire when the clock hit midnight. I still look for the next job. I still have hopes, dreams, and aspirations as a dancer. I do feel a bit wiser and that I can truly share that wisdom based off of experience. I think it is best to say I am a more experienced dancer than an older one. I know that full-time freelancing needs to slowly turn into part-time freelancing, as I really miss having a sense of home, focus, and regularity. But that doesn't mean that my career is slowing down. It just means that it needs to focus back into company/long-term gig work (maybe Broadway). But the most interesting realization I have had is this. While I have always been a person to set a marker to reach, I haven't this time around. I don't want to worry about working towards dancing until I'm 40. If I reach that goal, I will feel successful. But if I don't, I will likely be disappointed. I would love it if I'm still healthy, happy, and dancing professionally at 40. But this time around, I don't need to set another goal to feel successful if I reach it. I have been successful and I am successful at what I do and love.

With all of this said, I leave my readers with this amazing quote from Houston Ballet's former physical therapist, Cody Brazos. One of the dancers in the company broke her foot in class after landing awry in a saut de chat. While crying in pain and panicking that her career was ending, Cody calmly looked this dancer in the eyes and said, "There is no timeline to a dance career."

There is life in dance after 30 (w/Ellen Green after the launch of Barak Ballet)

The art of continually reinventing yourself

A new option for my bio (Photo: Shalem Photography)

It is very difficult to market oneself as a dancer. We freelance dance artists are essentially the rebels of dance. The most common avenue to a professional career is to attend auditions or workshops to obtain a company contract. Freelancers may be seeking that, but for the most part they are looking for the next job. I have been asked to attend auditions to get freelancing gigs in the past, but turned down those possibilities of work because it isn't cost effective to pay for travel and accommodations for a potential 3 to 6 week job. For this reason, it is important that I remain a presence on the radar of companies and choreographers across the country. This isn't as simple as it sounds, especially since I don't want to send out the same template email, photographs, and footage each time I recontact an employer. Appearing as a fresh prospect, even if it is your fourth time contacting a company, takes a lot of time and a great deal of thinking outside the box.

I would say that I have contacted a majority of the numerous professional ballet companies and a handful of contemporary companies across the country at least once. While most of the emails I send out are ignored, a handful respond with, "we'll be in contact with you," or, "we would like to discuss using you." Most of those that speak of getting back in contact with me never do. Usually, it is only a company that has an immediate need that will respond. Just because a company didn't contact you doesn't mean that they didn't review your materials. It also doesn't mean that their needs haven't changed. It is the beginning of a new season and many companies are figuring out what they have and what their needs will be for the rest of their season. Also of note, just because a company says that they will keep your info on file if the need arises, doesn't mean that they will remember to contact you when that need does arise. For this reason, it is important to continue sending your information out to remind employers that you are still an available resource when needed. The only thing is that you don't want to appear to be the exact same person with the exact same experience each time you send your information. Dancers are built on the foundation that you must continue to grow and improve. How do you reinvent your marketing tools with limited material?

One of the most important items in your toolbox of marketing materials is your performance reel (You can check out this older post on how to create your own reel). Without any footage of your performance abilities, it will be difficult to obtain a job without going to a live audition or relying on word-of-mouth. As a freelancer, there may be times where you perform in a handful of works that you have easy access to footage from those performances. At other times, you may be working a great deal, but the performances aren't filmed. For instance, I was really hoping to get footage of myself performing as the Sugar Plum Fairy's Cavalier with Rochester City Ballet last season. But due to union rules with the orchestra that was accompanying the production, they weren't allowed to film the performances. Even if you have limited access to footage, your reel doesn't have to remain without an update for years at a time. I have set a loose rule for myself that I will update my reel every 6, or so, months. Not only does this give me an opportunity to add additional footage, but it gives me a chance to feel out what is working in enticing employers or when it isn't reading as effectively as I had hoped.

This past season, I had the wonderful opportunities to dance with Rochester City Ballet, Alaska Dance Theatre, Festival Ballet Providence, in the Philly Fringe Festival, and in a choreographic workshop of a piece that may potentially be Broadway-bound. Of all of these performances, I was only able to obtain footage from two of these organizations. Albeit the limited footage I had access to this past season, the film that I could get my hands on was plentiful. Last week, I sat on my couch and reviewed my previous 3 or 4 reels, evaluating what I did well and what could be improved upon. What I found was that all of my reels took clips of footage that were between 15 and 60 seconds long, which added up to anywhere from 7 to 10 minutes long. While I am proud of these reels, I realize that a potential employer that only watched the first minute or two of the reel would be missing out on the variety of dance works and styles that I excel at dancing. I needed to reinvent my approach to creating my reel and, so far, it seems to be working.

In creating my new reel, I decided that I should take smaller clips of my dancing and fuse them together into one work. What I like to call "highlights." Keeping the original music to these pieces would not be effective, since the music would change every few seconds. I started my 20-something hours of editing by seeking a piece of music that was interesting, but lacked any compelling vocal or moments that would draw you into the music. I wanted the focus to be on my dancing and not on the track that was playing. After finding a piece of music that fit the bill, I started by pulling all of the footage I had that showed me off at my best. I slowly began whittling down the hour of footage and finding moments in the choreography that were exciting or intriguing. This was a challenging process since it can be difficult to differentiate between something that looks great versus something that you had a special emotional attachment to performing. In the end, I was very happy with what I created. Not only do I feel that my new reel shows me in my best light. I feel that I have found a completely different way of showing employers what I can do. When I contact a company for the third time, they will likely recognize some of the footage. But they will be less likely to overlook me as a dancer that they have already seen and more likely to look at my new, fresh packaging.

Beyond recreating a reel every 6 months, I try to keep my resume and photos updated as well. It is much simpler to keep these fresh as your career flies by. Try to be patient with your photographs. The biggest temptation when you receive a brand new photo that shows off all of the hard work you've put in is to immediately post it to your Facebook, Instagram (Follow me), or website. Take one or two of these photos and satisfy your social-media urges. But hold a few back for future usage. If all of your photos are out there and you haven't been performing anywhere that has a photographer, you are going to run out of fresh material. These items are new even if they are 6 months old. That is if you don't show them to anybody. As for your resume, I would avoid any attempts to greatly change your format unless you see a friend's CV that you think would be an improvement. While you want to show that you've moved forward within your reel and photos, you want your resume to be easy to read and recognizable.

Me partnering Elizel Long (Photo: Shalem Photography)

The final way that one can reinvent themselves is to find new ways to put oneself out there. Try a new style. Change your look. Find new ways of getting exposure. Show your talents that aren't necessarily dance-related, but that define you as an artist. Make yourself compelling. I've said this before and I'll say it a million times. It is rarely the artist with the best technique that moves forward in the world of dance. It is most often the most competent artist who is most compelling to the general population that moves to the front of the stage and the forefront of people's memories. Don't change who you are to reinvent yourself, but do change your way of thinking. Those who are able to make themselves compelling will make themselves the most hire-able. The best way to remain compelling is to continuously reinvent yourself. It is always reinvention that brings people back to an old, reliable product!

The overwhelming feeling that I ALWAYS need to be in shape.

A typical view driving around Los Angeles

Well isn't this the story of my life. When I worked with Pacific Northwest Ballet, we had a 40-week contract. Essentially, we were handed a schedule of our upcoming year which dictated when we would work, rest, and gear up to get back in shape after resting. One area of my freelancing life that I have yet to get a handle on is how and when to take a break. I find that I have an overwhelming sense of anxiety about taking breaks and getting out of shape because I never know when work is going to appear out of thin air. Well, I finally decided to take a vacation with my partner to his hometown of Los Angeles for a week from July 3-10. I told my anxiety to take a break and let my body take one, too. Of course, the second I let my guard down, an old friend of mine sends me a text message a day before I return home from vacation. "Did you see there is an American in Paris audition in NYC 7/15?" My stomach started to sink, my legs began to shake (maybe this is an exaggeration), and my anxiety rose to the surface as reality started to set in. I had one week to get back in tip-top shape.

One of the most challenging aspects of freelancing is deciding when to take a break. I wrote a blog awhile back about the importance of taking breaks. A majority of the discussion was focused on why we take breaks and how to take them properly. One thing I didn't really touch upon was the anxiety that many dancers feel about getting out of shape. From a very young age, young hopeful children begin feeling the pressure of improvement. At a certain point in most dancer's training, they feel like they can't even rest a day in their training or they will start to fall behind everybody else. Even though I have already had a substantial career, I still fear that if I slow down for a moment I will fall behind everyone, as I did when I was a student. Putting that in writing, it doesn't even really make any sense. Who do I have to fall behind at this point? Myself. This thought of falling behind as a student translates into, "if I am not constantly training, working, rehearsing, etc., I am going to lose everything that I have worked for," as a professional.

I recently had a conversation with a friend about having a dance career versus a normal career. In most non-dance careers, you know that as you get older you will always have the knowledge that you've gained, even if your mind isn't as sharp, you sustain an injury, or you level out. Unfortunately, as a professional dancer, you know that at a certain point, while having the knowledge of all of your hard work, you will lose nearly everything you have worked for physically. Another friend of mine who recently retired from the professional ballet life was telling me that after a year of not dancing en pointe, while her body still knows how to do it, it doesn't have the strength to do it anymore. At her young age, she can, of course, work to get that strength back if she wishes. But in just under a year, one can lose 20 years of strength building. This is the best example of why we dancers fear taking a break so much.

My partner (R) and me (L) at the pier in Santa Monica

When I finished my season back in the middle of May, I didn't have a definitive day that I would be returning to any workplace to dance. With this in mind and no contracts signed, I knew that I couldn't just stop dancing for the summer. So, up until July 3, I have been taking regular classes every week and playing around with choreography in the studio on top of teaching. I wasn't in top notch shape, but if I needed to, I felt that I could gear it up and be close within a week or so. I did know that at some point during the summer, I just needed to enjoy the life of a normal human being. When I bought my plane ticket to L.A. I knew that this was that time. I told myself, "if something comes along, you will deal with it the best you can. You are not a robot and you deserve to lay on the beach, eat and drink whatever you want, and sleep in until whatever hour you wish." Unfortunately, and fortunately, life decided to miss my vacation memo and a very big opportunity was thrust in my face.

The view for my jog in Long Beach

As soon as I found out about this audition for a 6-week workshop to create the musical, "An American in Paris," choreographed by Christopher Wheeldon was taking place, I knew that I had no choice but to stop vacationing and desperately try to return to a somewhat functional level of dancing. After gaining acceptance to the audition, on the last day of my vacation, I began getting in shape. I did my ab series, gave myself a barre in the dining room of our friends condo, and jogged/walked 3 miles along Long Beach. I flew the next day and began an intense, but smart, 5-day period of getting back into shape.

While I definitely feel caught off guard in this moment, I am going into this audition hopeful and knowing that not only have I done everything that I can for this moment, but also everything I can for my dance career and being. Yes, one of my biggest fears as a freelancer has come to fruition. But at the same time, if I don't attempt to take breaks, my body and mind will probably not continue to love dance the way it does. So, as my Bolt bus is currently driving through the Lincoln Tunnel, I must bring this post to a close. But what it really comes down to is that dancers must take time off. Freelancers don't have the luxury of a regular stream-lined schedule. They need to always be in shape. And although that is not possible, they need to be prepared to not always be prepared as perfectly as they may wish. Although I am very hopeful and excited about tomorrow's audition, no matter the turn out, I will leave knowing that I did the best that I could. And not just for this one audition, but as a freelance dancer trying to exist in this sometimes spontaneous world.

(UPDATE: Although I wrote this on my way into the city, I am now editing it on my way out of the city. I won't say much, but the audition went very well. I was even asked to sing, my first time ever singing for an audition. :-)