Finding What Makes You Unique & LOFD Writes for Dance Magazine

My story on the all-new Dance Magazine website

I really can't express how grateful I am to be having a whirlwind year when it comes to opportunities and achievements. To be completely honest, I had wishes and dreams of this stuff happening in my performance career. Little did I think that I would actually find what I was looking for and more in only the first year following the end of my time onstage. Last week, I had both the honor of being featured by Dance Magazine and writing for the same periodical in one fell swoop. It has been on my goal list for a few years now to write an article for this major publication and to have my work in the studio and on the stage highlighted, as well. If you want to check out that article, you can click this link right here to be swept over to Dance Magazine's new website to read my article.

The Graduating Class of the dance department at Hunter College

I'm currently riding the Bolt Bus back from New York City to spend an evening with my husband and a night in my own bed. At the moment, I'm currently riding off the high of sharing my knowledge and experience with the graduating class in Hunter College's dance department, where we discussed marketing oneself online and in-person, how to prepare materials for auditions, and techniques in cultivating social media for self-promotion. We talked about many things throughout this 2-hour interactive workshop that I curated especially for these students embarking on their first year out on their own. One thing that we addressed that I haven't talked about in great detail anywhere is how to find what makes you unique and how to use that to stand out in a crowd. So, I thought why not discuss that right here, right now.

This concept kind of drives me nuts, but every one of us is unique. In fact, the only thing that is normal about every human being is that we are all unique. While some dancers have amazingly high leg extensions or perfectly centered pirouettes, others have artistry that really shines through and can move people to tears. But there are other aspects of self that help dancers become visible. Perhaps, its your hair color, your fashion sense, your interests offstage, or your upbringing. There are unique characteristics that we are born with and different personal experiences that we all have had that distinguish each of us from one another. While many of us try to find success through our technique and artistry, it is more common for those who rise to local, regional, national, and international attention to be singled out for their uniqueness rather than their technique. This is due to the fact that many people today have impeccable technique, sky-high extensions, and can turn on a dime. Today, people tend to be drawn to artists who are imperfect, but intriguing, relatable, or any combination of the two.

How does one find what makes them unique and then use it to their advantage onstage and offstage? This often requires a lot of trial-and-error to accomplish. For me, as a dancer, I had nice facility with very good technique and considerable acting skills. I always felt like my acting skills distinguished me from others since I didn't have incredible facility. But I was never able to gain the national or international attention I had dreamed of attaining in my work as a performing artist with my skill set. Only when I began freelancing and developed this blog had I begun to even tap into a little bit of what makes me unique in this vast, yet small dance world. I didn't realize it at the time, but what was distinctive about me as an artist was the candor and honesty that I am willing to share publicly about my work and our art form. While this has nothing to do with my dancing, it is a distinguishing quality of mine that I seemed to have naturally cultivated. It absolutely has helped me stand out in a crowd. During my performance career, this quality of mine helped me gain employment across the nation as a freelance artist and got me a few nice nods with attention from Dance Informa and a short article about health care in Dance Magazine.

I didn't have to try hard to develop this characteristic in my media and social media work, as this has always been a quality of mine since childhood. I remember sitting with a friend at the Kirov Academy of Ballet who asked me to be honest with her about what I thought of her technique. I remember her pursing her lips, letting out a short close-lipped smile, and stating, "That was mildly painful to hear, but I know that you love me and I now know what I need to work on to get where I want to." And the beautiful part of this story is that she got her dream job to dance with Universal Ballet in South Korea, where her mother had been raised. So, while I have always had this unique quality, it took freelancing and this blog for me to figure out how to use it to benefit my career.

Rose Montgomery-Webb (Photo: Unknown)

Now, let's talk for a moment about what you are really here for? How can my sharing of this story help you. How can you determine what makes you unique and utilize those qualities to help become your most successful self? The first and most obvious place is to look within yourself. I always say that you should start with your story. Where did you grow up? How did you grow up? I remember having this conversation with one of my students from Alaska Dance Theatre who is currently a trainee at Ballet Met. She was raised in Alaska, but adopted from South Korea while she was an infant. While she didn't see these aspects of her life as anything out of the ordinary (and it was beautiful to see that she didn't), in the eyes of others she was having wildly unique experiences before she even had cognizance of it. As she has entered her years of auditioning for companies and finding her way towards becoming a professional, I have always told her to own those two facts and be unafraid to openly share about these things. This has paid off in certain ways, beyond her training opportunities and gaining a scholarship to attend Ballet Met for the summer that led her to this traineeship, she was selected as a guest host for the Premier Dance Network's Becoming Ballet podcast. If you can look into your life and see and share what unique experiences made you into the person that you are today, you may be on the right track to finding your definitive story. Look at Misty Copeland and how her story has catapulted her into legitimate fame.

James Whiteside (Photo: Unknown)

There are other unique things about people that are outside of themselves and their experiences. For instance, Kansas City Ballet dancer Kelsey Hellebuyck has a hell of a knack for fashion. She runs a blog that documents her outfits from day to day, which has had her featured in Pointe Magazine and other media outlets. Kathryn Morgan had a meteoric-rise at New York City Ballet then was struck with a debilitating illness that forced her off the stage. While she already had a unique story, she has found even more ways to make herself distinctive by developing a Youtube channel that offers tips, tricks, and training for young, aspiring dancers. Margaret Mullin (Soloist with Pacific Northwest Ballet) has been working as choreographer and director on a film documentary, James Whiteside (American Ballet Theatre Principal) rose to celebrity status thanks to his viral music videos and non-apologetic openness about his lifestyle, and Abigail Mentzer (former Pennsylvania Ballet Soloist & current dancer in the Phantom of the Opera tour) has become well-known for her interest in dancewear and her company that grew from that. Aside from finding what makes themselves unique, these artists have also developed their unique passions outside of the dance studio to garner attention, likes, and an adoring audience.

I wouldn't have gotten the opportunity I had today at Hunter College and the one above with Dance Magazine if I hadn't figured out what made me unique and ran with it. It can be so frustrating for somebody to tell you that everybody and nobody is unique. And while I fully agree with that statement, we can only blossom fully when we learn how to genuinely be our own unique self. Take some time to tap into and cultivate multiple parts of yourself that you feel are distinguishing. But be sure not to get disillusioned when certain things you have worked towards and hoped for don't actually catch people's attention. Practically nobody figures out the key to success on their first try. Keep putting yourself out there, keep fine-tuning your ideas and story, and (if you are lucky) your uniqueness will help bring you to the forefront of attention onstage, offstage, and in communities around the world.

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!

Healthy Competition - From Student to Freelancer

An old photo of me around age 4

As a youth, I was quite competitive. I wouldn't necessarily say that I was one of those kids who was in your face, I will cut you, competitive. But I got a great sense of satisfaction from the competition that dance offered me. Taking a look through my training, competition years, and finishing school to my first few years in a company, becoming a seasoned professional, and finally to my life as a freelance dancer; it is interesting to see how my sense of competition has shifted and matured. Without any sense of competition, I don't think I could have achieved the level of dancing that I am at today. But at the same time, I can look back and see where competition helped me, as well as hurt me along my path.

When I started dancing, I was too young to really understand competition. I was 2 years old and would sit with my mom in the lobby of our local dance school where my sister was taking creative movement classes. With all of my youthful exuberance, I kept running into my sister's class and interrupting their growing into a flower and skipping down the street exercises. When the instructor could have viewed my interruption as a nuisance, she instead saw it as an opportunity. Instead of scolding my mother for my misbehaving, she offered me a chance to join my sibling and her sisterly skippers. This was contingent upon me staying in class and remaining focused. After a few years in class and a few years off from dance, I started taking lessons again.

I never had a competitive appetite at the age of 7. I only took one class a week. Perhaps, it was due to the fact that I only saw dance as a hobby. Or maybe it was because I was the only boy in class. I don't recollect trying to do better than any of my peers, as I was just having fun. My first memory of feeling competitive was after I attended my first dance competition at the age of 13. My studio had decided to enter a few numbers in the regional Starpower - National Talent Competition. At this point, I hadn't even worn my first pair of tights in performance (the director feared that I wouldn't stick around if she made me wear tights in public), let alone considered outside talent or other boys that dance. I remember sitting in awe; seeing kids my age and gender dancing circles around me. Most of that competition, I spent sitting in the audience thinking about how I didn't understand why they were better than me, but I knew that there was something different about their dancing. This is the first time that I recognized technical achievement and, perhaps, the first time I felt that I needed to compete with the dancers around me to reach my greatest potential. I had experienced competition in Tae Kwon Do and in other areas of my schooling and hobbies, but I never really looked at dance from a competitive place.

As my teenage years passed, I attended more competitions and added conventions, workshops, and master classes to the mix. I never felt that I was nasty in my competitive attitude towards other dancers, but I slowly became one of the most ambitious dancers around. If I was in a class, I was standing front and center. If there was a master class, I was always the last dancer to leave the room to ask the teacher about corrections or for advice to show how hungry I was. If I was competing, I wanted to win first place overall. I guess I could say that I went from zero to 100 in a short period of time. I never threw any of my peers under the bus or cut anybody off, but I was competitive in spirit and made sure that I was seen and that my presence was known.

An old audition photo (Photo: Rosemary O'Connor)

Once I started attending auditions for ballet summer intensives, my experience at conventions helped me out. Having learned combinations amongst hundreds of eager dancers in ridiculously close proximity on carpet, as well as my ambition to be discovered, helped me gain notice more than my technique. I knew how to step out of a crowd and be seen. My competitive spirit didn't allow for shyness or measure. While I had really started to excel in my jazz, tap, and contemporary technique, I was quite far behind in my ballet technique. Ironically, I had fallen in love with ballet at 15 after seeing several School of American Ballet students perform besides me in a small company's Nutcracker. While I didn't have the chops to back up my eagerness, my competitive edge pushed me to audition out of my comfort zone. I attended any and every audition that I could. I talked to the teachers afterwards. I followed up the auditions with written letters of interest. And, after a failed first year of summer auditions, the next year I received a handful of non-scholarship offers to a number of summer intensives (which, being male, is a great testament to how much technique I was lacking).

While my mom wanted me to attend the Pennsylvania Governor's School for the Arts, a full-scholarship program, I insisted on attending Houston Ballet's summer intensive; one of the only ballet programs that offered me a partial scholarship. I knew that I would be surrounded by more male dancers in Houston than I would have been at the Governor's School. During this summer, I became much more intensely competitive. For the first time ever, I wasn't one of the best in class. I was surrounded by dozens of talented guys that had been focused on their ballet training for much longer than I had been. I was light years behind them and well aware that I had to play catch up. While I was never outrightly competitive towards the other boys in the program, I think that my intense approach to catching up was off-putting to a handful of my classmates. I didn't understand the culture and I didn't care what others thought of me. Everybody has heard that they shouldn't be competing with anyone other than themselves, but I didn't agree with that. I had spent a majority of my training in competition with myself and a bunch of girls, and I felt that this approach had only gotten me so far. I needed to be front and center in order to be seen and receive corrections. I also spent a lot of time watching other guys who got more attention than me analyzing what they were doing better. At times, I didn't understand why other teachers were drawn to them. I was under the impression that I was just as good as these guys, but they seemed to be on track for an invitation into the year-round program.

By the end of the summer, I somehow left with an offer to join the academy for their year-round program, but with very few buddies that I had really bonded with during my six weeks in Texas. I didn't understand why I had connected with so many of the girls at the program, yet so few boys. It is all quite clear now. In order to push myself towards the central focus of the teachers and obtain my spot with the school for the year, I had inadvertently segregated myself from many of my peers. When my mom refused to let me attend HBA because she felt that I needed to finish out high school (which I did the next year as a junior), my loss of competition (and, in my mind, improvement) made for a miserable year. During that summer, I had learned that I improved the most when I had comparable or better competition surrounding me. Returning to a local school, where I felt that I had none, felt like a deadly blow to my future in dance.

Returning to my alma mater as an adult - The School of American Ballet

My junior year passed and I finished out my last year of high school ready to finally make my move to Houston. While I was offered to attend again, I ended up finishing my training at the Kirov Academy of Ballet and the School of American Ballet. During this time, my approach to competition became much more aggressive. The thing about this is that, at the time, I didn't see myself as being competitive. Dancers often tell themselves that they aren't competing. I had convinced myself that I wouldn't talk to any of my peers during class because I needed to focus on myself. I still felt that I had to make up for lost time since I started focusing on ballet so late. I also convinced myself that I very strategically chose barre spots and center spots because I learned best in the front and center. While I felt this was practical, it came off as cut-throat. When a friend did well, and I didn't understand why they were called out instead of me, I was genuinely happy for them, but genuinely disappointed for myself. Then, I would find myself watching those that were doing well, analyzing what they had done to beat me to the punch, and changing my behavior to hopefully surpass them on their successful path.

Some of my closest friends and closest competition while @ SAB '03 (Jermel Johnson - Principal PA Ballet, me, Arron Scott - ABT, Troy Schumacker - NYCB, Will Lin-Yee - Soloist PNB, Andrew Scordato - NYCB)

Throughout my training, I would constantly tell myself that my competition did better than me because they had a better body than I did. Their feet were more flexible, knees were hyperextended, and their extensions were sky-high. So, I focused on what I thought I was good at. Intelligence, work-ethic, and sheer hunger for success. In the end, these things worked for me. And at high-level schools like The Kirov and SAB, you learn that you can become good friends with your competition. As long as you understand and support one another in their successes, a strong bond can still be formed within your competitive circle. Also, you begin to understand that you are all working towards a similar goal, but each end point is never exactly the same. Through this, we were able to bond, even with the possibility that a friend could outdo you and take a spot in the company that you desperately wanted to dance.

By the time that I had made it out of school, I was reaching the peak of my competitive streak. I was hired into Houston Ballet with 5 other apprentices. Since the company's union contract only allowed dancers to spend one year as an Apprentice, I knew that I had to make an impression to get promoted into the Corps and make one fast. To make matters more stressful, 4 of the 6 Apprentices were male. I immediately began to stake my claim in the front of class and to bond with one of the other apprentices, who would eventually become one of my best friends in Houston. A few weeks into my first season as a pro, one of the Principal dancers pulled me aside and yelled at me for standing in front of him during company class. I didn't understand why he was so upset, as he had already proven himself to the director. I felt that I had to compete to prove my worth to my new boss. Later in the season, my best friend was hired into the company before I had heard if I would be offered a Corps contract. A combination of these two factors started the decline of my competitive fierceness with other dancers around me. I was given two abrupt lessons. First, once you become professional, being competitive can actually cause greater stress than it can success. Second, I realized that I could potentially hurt a great friendship if I chose to be competitive instead of supportive.

Once I had competed my way into the professional world, I began to notice how cut-throat competition was not as much a part of the bigger picture of great success and I began to understand the idea of competing with oneself. In a company of 50 dancers, everybody wants to be on top. But the idea of what it means to be at the top is constantly changing. Did you dance opening night of a leading role? Were you featured on that poster that is being hung around town? Did Dance magazine feature you as a rising star? Were you called out with positive praise in the most recent review? There are many possibilities for dancers to rise to the top. The top is also fluid from program to program and often out of a dancer's control.

In green tights - PNB in Glass Pieces by Robbins (Photo: Angela Sterling)

After I joined PNB and started to really get a sense of what it was to be a true Corps member, I realized that I needed to start working towards something more cohesive with my fellow dancers. In order to improve, I had to start looking at what I needed to do and not where I was compared to everybody else. The idea of competing with myself became very true. I started to become off-put by dancers that acted exactly as I had when I was younger. And I realized that overtly competitive dancers often elicited the remark, "Who does he think he is?"

After a few years in the same workplace, you can get pigeon-holed into the type of dancer that the director thinks you are. When I was younger and casting would go up, my competitive nature might have made me feel like somebody took a role from me that I felt I deserved. In reality, it was not so much the idea that somebody took a role from me. Instead, it was the idea that I had to convince the director that I belonged in that role (whether through my dancing or verbally). And, of course, politics always comes into play. As I spent more time working besides the same colleagues who I had once felt the need to compete with, I began to feel that they weren't standing in my way to the top. Instead, my way to the top was in trying to convince the people casting ballets to believe in me and see in me what I, myself, and others saw.

Lucia Rogers & me as Romeo and Juliet w/ Fort Wayne Ballet

(Photo: Jeffrey Crane)

Working in the manner that I do as a freelancer, competition is nearly non-existent. Since I am not working with a company from program to program, I don't feel the need to compete for roles. I usually have a good idea of what I will be dancing before I show up for my first day of work. I have walked into companies and felt a strong sense of competition projected onto me from a few different dancers. One, in particular, was a dancer in his first year with a company where I had previously freelanced. This dancer felt so intensely competitive towards me that they became stand-offish and began walking up to me during rehearsals to give me corrections. After a firm discussion telling them that they needed to let the director do their job if they felt I needed fixing, they left me alone. Perhaps, it is the time that I have spent in the field. But, more likely, it is the fashion in which I currently conduct business. As a freelancer, I feel that I am not a threat to any dancer in any organization where I work. I am brought in to do my job and leave. I'm not going to take a dancer's job. I'm not going to take their future roles. I come in, I do what I was brought in to do, and I leave. It's essentially a non-competitive position.

Typical self-promotion - Did you see me in Dance Magazine?

I find that while I feel mostly uncompetitive, there is one place that I still feel a hint of competitive comparison. While I love social media and stay connected through these venues due to my travels, I find that Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram are more often used by professional dancers for self-promotion than as a way to stay in touch. I am one of the biggest offenders on these platforms. Whenever I sign into one of these sites, I am proud to see what successful friends I have. But I find that, at times, I have to keep myself in check when I feel the need to start comparing my successes with their self-promoted successes. In the end, we were all wildly competitive as kids, which connected us on similar paths and pushed us upward and onward towards great successes.

No matter how mature I grow within my competitive nature, there will always be a sense of comparison to others in my field. Competition was an exciting aspect of dance that not only grew my interest in the field, but helped me grow to the level of artistry and excellence I have achieved today. Dancers learn through healthy competition. It is important for us to keep in mind that the kindest, healthiest competition is one that supports others and supports oneself in the most positive, growth-forward way.

My friend Jermel & me waiting for a bus to go on tour w/ABT in the middle of a blizzard