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.

           
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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?"

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

           
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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?"

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

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

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

           
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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?"

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

           
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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?"

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

           
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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

Acting Professionally in a Rehearsal Studio

The Royal Ballet in rehearsal (Photo: Unknown)

Rehearsal etiquette is one of the many unspoken areas of our silent art form. There is no particular way that each and every rehearsal studio is run. But at the same time, there are general no-no's (and yes-yes') that are taught within the culture of a company as they create, fine-tune, and prepare a work for the stage.

Back a handful of years ago I was working with a pickup company that employed enough dancers to fill a small rehearsal room. In other words, our athletic group of 8 had to get along considering our company's size. A few of us were more seasoned than the others. But one dancer was enjoying the raw, empowering, and often shocking experience of their first job as a professional. Previously, I talked about my experience at my first full-time job with Houston Ballet and how I stepped on dancer's toes without even realizing it. After watching this type of situation from the other side, as a senior dancer, I was taught a lesson in kindness, patience, and humility.

Dancing for a big company is very different than dancing for a small ensemble. In a bigger company, dancers often feel more comfortable being up front (if not, sometimes, mean) when trying to streamline a young dancer into their place in the unique culture of a professional company. If any interaction becomes tense, dancers can retreat into their clique for comfort or hide behind other dancers who are more willing to stand their ground. But in a small company, there is nowhere to hide, very little hierarchy, and everybody has to interact frequently with one another in the studio.

Smuin Ballet in rehearsal (Photo: Chris Hardy)

Back to the occasion of watching this new dancer enter a rehearsal studio without the assimilation that the rest of us dancers had. It was a generally difficult situation to endure. The leadership wasn't very good at running a rehearsal studio and they let the dancers have a bit too much control over what happened. This new dancer became a stressor for other dancers as they were acting in ways that went way beyond the etiquette of most professional environments. Things like actively telling other dancers how to fix their dancing, counting over the choreographer, and regularly interrupting the process to crack jokes became the norm. And while the other dancers with more experience didn't approve of this behavior, the director and ballet mistress chose to allow it to continue.

Now, it is perfectly healthy to run a studio where dancers feel that they are a valuable part of the process, where the environment is light and friendly, and where a dancer feels that they can speak up when they feel that something isn't working properly. But this dancer started to become a distraction and affected the ability of others to work to the best of their abilities. Due to the size of the company, where another more experienced dancer may have talked to their freshly minted colleague, this dancer was left continually breaking "rehearsal-code" for the extent of the gig. This was most likely due to the fact that, in such a small group, everybody knew that a small amount of tension between two dancers would be felt by all.

In this company, many of the dancers looked up to me and respected my work. And for that reason, it was suggested by some that I speak to this dancer to give them an idea of professional rehearsal etiquette. But, as I stated before, I felt it would cause too much tension and that it was actually the responsibility of those in the front of the studio to hone this character in. Looking back, I'm glad I maintained this position. But this is the advice that I would offer that dancer today if I were the person at the front of the studio.

First things first, the way you act in a rehearsal studio as a student is completely different than when you are a professional. Most students who become professionals have reached the top of the hierarchy of a school. Essentially, if the school had a ranking, these dancers are the Principals of the school. In a professional company, a top-level student most often enters at the lowest rank and seniority. In most professional rehearsal setting, Principals have more leeway and freedom in their choices, actions, and vocal interaction than others. Not to say that a new professional can't have a voice or input. But it is the job of an apprentice or first year dancer to sit back and absorb what is happening around them. They don't have equal cultural standing to those higher ranked or more senior dancers. Just like in medieval times, the apprentice to the blacksmith didn't walk in on day one and start working with the iron. It may have taken a long time before the mentor allowed the apprentice to even touch any equipment, let alone lead the creation of a work of art.

My next bit of advice is to keep an open mind about your idea of what a rehearsal should look like. School rehearsals are often much slower paced with more time to retain choreography, fine-tune, and engage in conversation. Many professional environments are much faster-paced and don't open up the room to ask questions or discuss particular material until all of the material is already out. This is to help streamline the process and may even be an effective money-saver. In school, most of the students are paying to dance. In a professional environment, time is money. The longer dancers are in rehearsal, the more they get paid and the more time spent paying for rehearsal space (esp. in freelance or project based gigs that don't have a home studio). There are reasons for professional rehearsal culture that go beyond personalities and people getting along.

Joffrey Ballet in rehearsal (Photo: Lenny Gilmore)

The final idea I'd like to share about rehearsal etiquette is a grey area that is fluid from company to company, but generally recognized in some way or another. I'd like to bring up seniority and respect for dancers with more experience. One of the big issues with this fresh, new dancer was that they felt their presence in the studio was absolutely equal in contribution to the more experienced dancers around them. I'd love to say that this is the perfect ideal, but it was actually one of the most challenging aspects of working with this person. The difficulty laid in looking at them as a person versus their job and position as a dancer. As a person, we all enjoyed this dancer very much and wanted to give them a chance to find their place. But as a dancer, many of us felt disrespected by this person's actions. For instance, a young dancer should never think it is acceptable to offer unwarranted corrections to a more senior dancer. Additionally, taking over a rehearsal space and telling dancers how to count or how your exploration of the process is more correct can be horribly disrespectful and doesn't acknowledge a dancer's wisdom gained from time put in. Whether a young dancer is more naturally talented than a senior dancer doesn't play into the fact that dancers with seniority have spent years fine-tuning their technique, movement, and rehearsal practice. The value in hiring more senior dancers is that they have existed in a professional dance studio much longer than younger dancers. They are brought back to dance for an organization because they have a very keen sense of how to work effectively and professionally in a variety of work environments. Even a dancer with immense talent can not innately understand this. And for this reason, it is extremely important that they take a step back and absorb the culture that experienced dancers project. Because in the end, these senior dancers are not projecting their own idea of the culture. They are projecting the culture that came before them and taught them that culture and so on. You are essentially being taught the cultural history of the company by learning from those who came before you, absorbing it, and then will hopefully pass it on when you aren't the young or new one any more.

As you can see, I shied away from sharing too many specific items about how to act in a studio. This is mostly because each and every studio functions differently and most effectively per the needs of an organization. I don't want any dancer to ever feel completely stifled by trying to fit in to the culture of a dance company's rehearsal process. But if you approach a professional rehearsal studio with respect for those around you and respect for what came before, it will be much easier to acclimate to dancing for a company. And, if you are lucky enough, perhaps, you will have the staying power to become one of those dancers that helps the next generation learn a company's culture from your fine example.

Get Out of Your Comfort Zone - Honeymoon Edition

One of my images from our trip to Machu Picchu

Hola mi amigos! I'm BACK!!!! I hope that you haven't missed me too much. At the moment, I'm flying high on a travel-bender sitting in the aeropuerto in Lima, Peru. This isn't the first or second time I've been here in the past few weeks. But it is definitely the longest period with my current layover time queueing at 6 hours (only 2 more to go). Over the past 3 weeks, I have bartered at ramshackle markets in horribly broken Spanish with excessively wooing Peruvian ladies in Lima. I've experienced the short and light-headed breathlessness of Soroche (or altitude sickness) that walking only a few wildly tight, steeply climbing streets of historically scenic Cusco, Peru can quickly bring on. Shortly after my time in Peru, I was again fumbling through my Spanish to order enough pisco sours to loosen up and dance among the locals at a club in Santiago, Chile. Whether struggling through a conversation to purchase a bus ticket to Valparaiso, Chile, navigating the Subte (subway) in Buenos Aires, Argentina, or finding our way to the historical center of Colonia del Sacramento, Uruguay, my husband and I spent our amazing 3 week South American honeymoon utterly and uncomfortably out of our comfort zones. But it was all worth it to make it to the centerpiece of our journey, and to one of the new 7 Natural Wonders of the World, Machu Picchu! I know you've missed me (or at least my posts ;-) ) over these past weeks, but I hope you forgive me for my silence during our travels. And, even better. There's a lesson here for all!

Exploring the historic Plaza de Armas of Cusco, Peru

These past few weeks of travel have been full of fun, excitement, discomfort, frustration, unexpected joy, utter submission, and much love. A flooding array of emotions and challenges can accompany what sounds like a fun, daring adventure. But with good intentions come hard lessons. Here, food poisoning from eating at a questionable airport restaurant, exchanging money on a random street that all the travel blogs wrote to go to in order to save big bucks on exchange rates (too bad they stopped writing those blogs two years ago when these cambios, or cash houses, became obsolete and...maybe...even illegal), or walking a few miles into a sketchy neighborhood without any phone service or knowledge of transportation out of there. But at the same time, watching an ancient Inca site breathing through heavenly clouds, haggling a silkenly soft alpaca sweater to the equivalent of $10 USD, seeing the most incredible display of street art carved into the cutest city on earth, and standing by your new spouse's side to share these experiences was well worth the moments that thrust us anywhere but close to comfortable.

I wanted to talk a bit about what I've been up to, and at the same time create some relevant content for you guys. In my thought process while prepping to write this piece, it clicked for me that it was time to talk about getting out of our comfort zones. There are many ways to get out of your comfort zone. For instance, I am an expert traveler. But only when it comes to domestic travel within the United States. I haven't been out of the country in 6 years as I've focused on building certain aspects of my career. For me, I could have stayed comfortable and had my honeymoon in the US. But that idea, while easy and relaxing, would have been completely within my husband and my comfort zone. We threw around the possibility of traveling somewhere international, but in a more developed country with lavish, comfortable accommodations. This option would have been slightly out of our comfort zone, but still offer us some ease of mind and relaxation to celebrate our union. But if any of you have gotten to know me over the years while reading Life of a Freelance Dancer, you know that neither of those experiences are close to my style (nor my husbands).

Enjoying art in the Parque Esulturas in Santiago, Chile

When Danya and I looked into honeymoon options, we were most excited by traveling to places where there was a strong language barrier, where in some places you can't even brush your teeth with the water, where people asked to pose in pictures with me because they had never seen somebody with green eyes before, and where there is the possibility that we may find ourselves in potentially dangerous situations (nothing too crazy, right). Why, you may ask, would a newlywed couple want to thrust themselves this far out of their comfort zones on such an occasion as their honeymoon? Because we thrive on experiences that force us to grow, force us to question the way that we live our lives, and force us to open our minds to the possibility of greater understanding (in many areas of of life) than we have today. I feel this is a relevant lesson in life, society on a global scale, and even dance.

I remember back when I first fell in love with ballet. I didn't know much about what I was doing, aside from the knowledge that there was this amazing school where kids were selected to dance in the mornings and afternoons (the School of American Ballet) and got to focus on dance like I had been focusing on math and science. I also knew that I was a little behind, but felt I might be able to catch up if I did enough research and worked my ass off. I pulled open the January 2000 issue of Dance Magazine and decided to ask if I could audition for the summer intensives I had found with either the biggest ads or in the biggest cities (because, ya know, the bigger the city or the bigger the ad, the better the company?). I was lucky to have a supportive family and an even more supportive teacher and school director to help me follow my uncultivated dream. I jumped into the deep-end fast, and nobody stopped to second guess my ambition. And I guess a lot hasn't changed since then.

Enjoying the centerpiece of our honeymoon, Machu Picchu

After all of my summer intensive auditions that year, even as a male, I had only been accepted to a small handful of the programs I applied for (practically none with scholarship). One that gave me a minor scholarship and really stood out to me was Houston Ballet Academy. I had also received a full-ride to the now defunded Pennsylvania Governor's School for the Arts, where my mom was an alumni in their vocal department. Obviously, after her experience there, I was given a gentle, but clear push to go where the money was because I was almost guaranteed a lot of attention (especially being a male dancer) and my mom knew I would have a positive experience there.

But in typical Barry fashion, I had my eyes set on jumping into a pool of water with no definitive bottom. At the time, I just did it. But I can explain this decision more clearly now. I innately knew that there were two ways to grow as a person; in small, safe building steps or in one fell swoop with great potential for success or failure. I made the choice to put a lot of money on one number, instead of buying a handful of inexpensive scratch tickets from the lottery.

Dancing thru a tour of Teatro Colon in Buenos Aires

Looking back, I feel I did this for a good reason. If I went to the Governor's School, I would be exposed to something slightly comfortable and something slightly unknown. I would slowly begin developing a new taste for different styles of training. From there, I could slowly build to the next step. Going to Houston Ballet Academy for the summer, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Nobody I knew had attended the program previously, but I had heard positive things about it through the grapevine during auditions and from the company's very limited internet presence (remember, it was the early days of the internet). Something told me that I needed to be in an environment that I didn't understand, that tested my belief system, and that showed me a new way of looking at the world, only here it was the ballet world. I truly believe that this first risk I took in my career, before it was even a career, changed the trajectory of my life and was a major turning point in getting where I have been, where I am, and where I am going.

There is so much to learn from putting oneself out there in multiple different aspects of their lives, especially as an artist. It is the job of an artist to offer unexplored perspectives to audiences for acceptance, discomfort, and expansion of their own values and life experiences. If one doesn't want to push themselves outside of their own comfort zone, it is our responsibility to share our experiences and challenge them to grow. In life, we are often presented with three different options. Ones that allow zero growth, little growth, and great growth. Those choices that often offer the greatest growth can be the most painful, challenging, and uncomfortable experiences. Like a caterpillar bursting out of its cocoon as a butterfly or like a mother giving birth to a child, these experiences are likely very frightening and often painful. But the rewards from stepping into the unknown, discomfort and pain in growth, and expansion of mind, self, and being can reap benefits, rewards, and joy that couldn't be understood or experienced in one's life otherwise.

Taking in standing atop the amazingness that is Cusco, Peru

How to Reach Out to Somebody You Don't Know

Will this be me during my honeymoon in Buenos Aires? (Photo: Say Hueque blog)

I can't believe that this is even about to happen. But I am heading to South America on my honeymoon and I am taking my first major break from all of my teaching, choreography, and media work for the first time in 4 years. So, while I'm sauntering around the arid coast of the Pacific in Lima, Peru, absorbing the breathtaking summit above the Incan ruins of Machu Picchu, watching the sunset over the Andes from my 17th floor apartment in Santiago, and breathing in the Paris of the South culture of Buenos Aires, I will be taking a much needed (and hopefully well-deserved) 3 weeks off from blogging. I hope you don't fret too much, but if you are really hankering for some fresh new content, I have pre-recorded 3 quick concept podcasts, the Flashcast, to release every Friday that I'm away on my Pas de Chát: Talking Dance podcast. You can also catch up on the plethora of old Life of a Freelance Dancer posts by clicking on this link here. (And if you want to feel like a part of the celebration for our honeymoon, you can see my choreography/poem I performed for my husband at our wedding, you can watch the video via this link here)

Now, moving on to what you are all here for... some fresh content! I'm inspired to share information with you today from a recent experience I had. Now, I must forewarn you all. While I am ecstatic to share myself as a public persona that is both approachable and candid, at any point anybody I know/meet or any experience I have may become a topic of conversation within my media work. I don't do this for a laugh or to shame anybody. I take my work in sharing information and learning through each other's experiences very seriously. But I think that we can all learn strong lessons from one anothers missteps, failures, and successes. So, with that disclaimer out there, let's move forward with this post's topic.

Performing in "The Nutcracker" (Photo: Glenn Mata)

I recently received a Facebook message from a contact that shared mutual friends with me, but with whom I had no previous connection. I didn't know this person, but they had talked to a friend of mine who suggested she get in touch with me about freelancing. I have felt quite honored that people feel comfortable/trust me enough to contact me on the regular seeking advice on how best to go about freelancing (among many other requests that range from questions about careers to promotion). But this occasion was one of the first times that a message turned me a bit off. And, while my immediate reaction was to ignore this message and move on with my busy life, I chose to give it a day or two to settle before I made the decision to let the message sink deep into my inbox or to respond. I did this because I have actually committed this Internet Age misstep before and I wanted there to be value in my response without coming off as arrogant or offended.

What happened was this freelance artist sent me a private message stating that they knew somebody I knew. Then without providing much additional information, requested I put them in touch with my contacts to give them freelance work. What threw me off here was the appearance of expectation that I would just offer up opportunities to any person that reaches out to me and requests them. When I first read this message, I thought to myself, " Who does this person think they are? And who do they think that I am?" But once my initial reactions began to fade, I recognized that this amateur (and sometimes professional) error was one I had committed before and was more revealing of this dancer's experience and understanding of how the dance world functions than anything else.

Let's get one thing straight. There is no magical, easy way that a dancer gets work; whether they are seeking company or freelance positions. I don't have dozens of people asking me on the regular to find artists for them. In fact, my freelance career has been full of quick bursts of fantastic feasts and sometimes long, desperately desperate famine periods. The success that I have obtained in both my dancing and choreographic/teaching career have been the result of insurmountably relentless hard work, trial-and-error, and unassuming vulnerability. Looking at this dancer's daring ask, I recognized she had tapped into her vulnerability by reaching out to a stranger who had figured out their own path to success in her field of interest. But, perhaps, her error lay in zeal. Instead of taking some time to develop a carefully curated approach, she asked to ride on the coat tails of my perceived success. Yet, even if I had work to offer, I already knew that she was unlikely to be in a place to best represent me as an example of my taste and consideration for excellence. It is important to remember that any referral almost equally reflects back on the person who suggested a dancer for work.

Before I even perused this dancer's Facebook account, I was already questioning whether she was working at a high enough level to perform some of the work that she had requested. Let me preface this with a disclaimer that I still don't know the true quality of this dancer, therefore I can't judge them. And if I did, I would not share that information publicly. But alarm bells rang the moment I finished reading the Facebook message I received because the request was missing important pieces of information, had one glaring statement, and read overall as an assumption that I already wanted to help. The missing information was a clear error, as there was no professional background or history given by this dancer whatsoever. No statement of past experience, no images or reel to validate quality, and no resumé or CV to inform me that "I am a highly-qualified candidate for work." The glaring statement that jumped out to me let me know that they were mostly looking to perform starring roles in works, but would be willing to step into lesser roles if they weren't available. And the final deal-sealer was the request I already spoke about to be put in contact with "my people" (which, unfortunately don't really exist). By the time I reluctantly sauntered over to her profile to perform a quality assurance search on photos, I already knew that if I could have helped that I would probably have passed up.

Me and "My People" (Photo: Danya)

Why am I sharing this story? I honestly fear that it may come off as mean-spirited, but that is not my true intention. And I can best prove this point by telling you about the time that I did this. When I was a kid at the young age of 19, I was hired by Roy Kaiser to dance with Pennsylvania Ballet 2 (PB2), the studio company to the main company. After accepting this position, but not having signed a contract, I received a better offer in the form of a company position as an Apprentice with Houston Ballet. I called up PB2 and gave them the bad news that I would not be signing the contract heading to me in the mail. A year later, they were gracious enough to let me audition for the company again. Though this time, my efforts didn't end with a job offer. After joining Pacific Northwest Ballet and feeling like I needed a place where I could progress faster, I reached out to PA Ballet again. Though, this time I was given some bad advice and made the poor choice to follow it. My young, overly ambitious Corps de Ballet self said something along the lines of this. "Dear Roy, I am contacting you to express my interest in joining Pennsylvania Ballet as a Soloist. My technique has grown tremendously over the past few years at PNB. Additionally, having come from the suburbs of Philadelphia, I feel that I could be a great box office draw and help bring in a wider range of audience members from the suburbs." There was more to it, but that is the gist of my note. There it is, perhaps, my most embarrassing correspondence ever!

So, I hope you can see how all of this relates. What I did there was I tried to show confidence and get the recipient on board with what I felt I had to offer. But it instead showed a lack of grace, humility, and general understanding about the way that things work in our field. This was the same mistake that this hopeful freelancer made when reaching out to me. By reaching out to me in the way she did, I already didn't trust her as a person and wrote her off as unqualified or having an over-inflated sense of worth as a dancer. This was almost to the point where I considered ignoring the message.

Now, let's move forward with this. What can we learn from these stories? In the event that you want to reach out to somebody to ask them for work (whether dancing, teaching, choreographing, or beyond - both in and out of the dance world), I always suggest that you introduce yourself quickly on a personal level and more in depth on a professional level. Don't wait for the recipient to request information to back up your requests for work or networking (like a website, CV/résumé, photos, reel, etc.). Do be sure to clearly express what you hope to get out of the contact while keeping your word count to a minimum. Be wary of making assumptions that this person already wants to help you. I always say the best way to go about this is to ask for assistance in reaching your intention or for information about how to go about getting what you are looking for, instead of going straight for the punch and asking for work. Sometimes, this is unavoidable, but try to be direct without being demanding. Beyond this (and this doesn't apply for me because I do suggest the public reach me via my website contact page for anything from work to personal questions or via Facebook message for personal questions), if at all possible, try and contact people via a professional email address. Most people prefer to keep Facebook personal. Requesting work or help with getting work is not a personal request and can really turn somebody off if they don't know who you are.

It can be challenging to determine the best, most streamlined way to find success and live out your dreams. One of the hardest pieces of this puzzle is helping to tie people into your network without coming off like you are only using that person for your own professional gain. Be sure that you are always prepared to share a sufficient amount of information and you will come off as somebody who knows the way our world works because you have functioned within it. We live in a tricky web where some things work for some people and don't work for others. But please feel free to use this information as a guideline to help expand your network and to hopefully get that work you are seeking!

Sharing LOFD on Popular Podcasts

It is getting closer and closer to my glorious honeymoon to South America and it is definitely starting to feel like crunch time. Exactly one week from now, my Danya and I will be on a JetBlue flight to Lima, Peru to spend 3 weeks south of the equator. I've got a great post prepared for you guys that I will be posting next week, but I've also been spending a great deal of time pre-recording podcasts for Pas de Chát: Talking Dance to make sure that there is still fresh content coming out for all of my lovely readers and listeners while we are gone. So, don't fret. I've got some really helpful content coming to you here in only a few days.

In the meantime, I have been busy, busy, busy mixing with a handful of people and organizations that have recently reached out to me for interviews and more. Soon, I will be featured on an app that is coming out that will offer you the opportunity to video chat with me for advice, information, or just to talk to me about dance. Beyond this, I have been in conversation with the Dance Network about possible collaborations. There are a few other things coming up that I can't yet talk about, but I promise you will know as soon as I can talk about these things.

Last week, I also had the wonderful opportunity to chat with Ken Scheck when he interviewed me on his so popular, so fun, SO GAY podcast. We talked on THIS SHOW IS SO GAY about everything from masculinity in ballet to my recent marriage. There was also an extended conversation about this blog right here and my recent post on retirement. I was so honored to be a part of this podcast. So, I suggest you go ahead and give this interview a listen while you eagerly await next week's post. It's gonna be an interesting one!

The "R" Word - Retirement

The Nutcracker (Photo: Ruth Judson)

There really are few careers out there that are as strikingly unique as a performance career in dance. Those of us lucky enough to dance for a living chose our career path somewhere between the age of teen and tween. Plenty of my peers and colleagues left middle or high school early to attend a boarding school or finished their academics online. From the lifestyle required to maintain the elite level of an athletic artist to the odd set of job requirements, there is nothing normal about the life of a dance artist. One of the most defining aspects of our careers is a word that begins with the letter "R" and is a word almost as dangerous as the name Voldemort. Like many of the most beautiful things in our world, a dance career shines brightly and quickly, then usually fades as fast as a falling star. Like putting together a last will and testament, talking about retirement feels like a daunting task. But at some point, every successful dancer will retire. And only in the rarest instances will this retirement lead one into the sunset of their lives.

Martha Graham was once quoted as saying, "A dancer dies twice." I can tell you from experience that this is one of the most credible statements that has ever been spoken about the pathway a dancer takes as they end their performance career and transition forward into the next stage of their lives. I have been told that one of my most defining attributes as a writer is my level of candor in talking about the realities of our wonderful dance world. But I don't feel that I have been completely candid about where I am as an artist today. And I finally feel that I am ready to change that.

If you have shared the journey of Life of a Freelance Dancer, you have walked hand-in-hand with me from the commencement of my career as a freelance artist. If you look back to 2014, where I posted about dealing with injury and working my way back from burn out, it was quite clear that I was working through a difficult period of my performance career. I had been traveling non-stop for 4 seasons and felt that I was beginning to forget who I was at my core. While I recovered from injury and worked to figure out how I ended up so emotionally lost, I took a job with Alaska Dance Theatre, created my own choreography project, and began working to transition my career to New York City. While I spent a great amount of time giving myself technique class at the gym and dropping in to take classes from other instructors, my performance career remained on hiatus. And, for the longest time, I didn't even know why.

Throughout this period, there were a handful of times that I found myself giving awkward explanations about the state of my career. I've been lucky enough that this blog has given me a great deal of credibility and has offered me visibility to other artists in my field. I've been approached a handful of times for work through this blog or in person from those who have read it. I felt awkward turning down these kind offers, as my persona has become understood as that of a highly sought, successful performer.

But more difficult than turning down the work was trying to find the words to explain why I was turning it down. More often than not, I would offer to pass jobs on to my peers because I didn't feel I was in appropriate shape to take on a performance at that moment. But in all honestly, I just wasn't able to bring myself to get back into a rehearsal studio.

Often, I would find myself at social events and people would ask me what I did for a living. My natural response was that I was a dancer. But as my choreography, teaching, and media career started to take off, I found myself in an awkward situation where a friend corrected me mid-conversation about my position. Sipping a glass of wine after telling a party-goer that I was a dancer, this friend interrupted me and stated, "Actually, he is a choreographer. He isn't performing anymore." I sheepishly smiled at this person and nodded my head, but what they couldn't recognize was the rush of adrenaline flooding my body. That rushing of natural chemicals flowing through my veins mimicked the feeling you might get when you receive extremely bad news; like finding out about an illness or a death. In that very moment, I was forced to come to terms with the creeping, slow death of my performance career. My body's reaction reinforced the statement I posted earlier about the death of a dancer. A dancer dies once when their career is over and again when the person passes on.

Now, I know that I was deeply affected by this experience. But like many occasions when you receive bad news, you go into denial or silently acknowledge the issue while maintaining a certain level of public mum surrounding the item. After toying around with the idea that I may be officially retiring from my performance career for many months, I finally decided to work on transitioning my career base to New York City. This transition has finally allowed me to come to terms with what I am trying to tell you. Once I finally started getting into Nancy Bielski's class on a regular basis, I began to feel my body returning to it's normal ballet shape. While I still had aches and pains from the devastating injury I experienced dancing with Oakland Ballet, I was able to maintain my body and return to class daily. A few more offers for work came to me and I graciously turned those offers down. As you also know, I've been given a handful of teaching opportunities during this time, as well. Whether at Steps on Broadway, Broadway Dance Center, or teaching master classes across the country, I have found a great deal of excitement and growth in this facet of my career. With the addition of having my choreography sought out more and seeing my media work from my blog and podcast explode, things started to become clearer and clearer.

I don't know exactly when it happened and I don't know how it happened, but in the past few months I have finally been able to say it. And maybe the reason I hadn't been able to say it was because I didn't want to admit to myself that I had already moved on. Or maybe it was because it is the only thing I have ever known since I was a young child. And while I have finally admitted it to myself and in private conversation, I still feel slightly choked up writing this post to share what this experience is like for me and may be like for you. And I promise you it's coming. And it's coming right now. I am officially retired from my performance career (and my heart is racing just typing this).

The Nutcracker (Photo: J-Ro)

Alrighty. Now that those words are out there, I'd like to elaborate a little more before signing off from this post. I have not been retired from my performance career since 2014. I really only started toying around with the idea at the beginning of 2016. I had dreams of making this big comeback. I had dreams of maybe joining a Broadway show. I had dreams of performing with Suzanne Farrell Ballet and getting to dance a Balanchine work one more time. I continued to dream of sharing my love of dance from the stage. But with the growth of my media work, the greatly positive feedback for my teaching, and the interest in my choreography, I had to give myself a bit of a reality check. I have accomplished most of what I wanted to accomplish in my performance career. I danced with two of the best ballet companies in the country in some of the greatest works by the greatest choreographers with live music in every production. Then, I self-managed a traveling career across the country performing on stages large and small. I received some level of recognition and notoriety and I feel pleased with all of that. While I feel that I could push through for another year or two, I feel that I reached my peak and will only be maintaining the same level of work that I had been doing when I became injured in 2014. At the young age of 32, I feel that if I focus my work on choreographing, teaching, and sharing my voice with the world that I can do much, much greater things and with a head start. I may perform here and there on occasions that really inspire me (coming out of retirement a la Barbara Streisand). But for the most part, I'm looking forward to focusing on my growing work and continuing to offer my advice and experiences as a freelance choreographer, educator, and dancer here on this blog. As, even in retirement, I will continue to take class and maintain being a dancer off the stage.

Going through the process of finding the strength to use the "R" word, I feel that I did go through a grieving process. I didn't have a big retirement performance to let fans fawn all over me or to gain closure. There was no exact day I can look back to for the rest of my life to call the anniversary of my retirement. But over the last few months, I suddenly became comfortable with responding to my peers and curious acquaintances questions by proudly stating, "I am a choreographer, dance educator, and advocate for the dance world through my media work." I feel that any dancer working towards or going through retirement can benefit from having something to look forward to, no matter how exciting or mundane. So, when you find yourself approaching this new life of yours, remember this. While we may no longer be on the stage to share our gifts with audiences small and large, we will always be dancers. A dancer may die two deaths, but that doesn't mean they live two lives.

(As I enter this new stage of my career, if any readers are ever interested in booking me for choreography, master classes in ballet or contemporary technique, or for speaking engagements, you are always welcome to reach me on my contact page by clicking here. I am available for local, national, and international work).

A Candid Perspective - Curate This

Performing my own choreography - Gated Lies in Philly Fringe Festival (Photo: Bill Hebert)

When I first started Life of a Freelance Dancer, I didn't really look at this venture as a way to share the strikingly honest truth about different aspects of the dance world. I was an injured, recently jobless dancer with no clue how to go about making a living as a freelance artist. Once this blog really started to take off, I began feeling the need to publicly express different career experiences I had in order to offer a real-life glimpse of the ups and downs of a dancing independent contractor. Over time, I've become that guy who is known to share his greatest achievements and darkest moments. This open-book attribute of mine has garnered me a great deal of criticism. But it has also given me a distinguished voice as an artist in a relatively silent art form and offered me exciting opportunities.

One of a few of my recent opportunities became public this week. I was asked by a lovely dancer in the Philadelphia post-modern dance scene, Mira Treatman, to write an article for a week-long series she was asked to curate on the Philadelphia arts website, Curate This. When Mira asked me to write for her week as curator, she offered a handful of topics for me to write on. The one that really jumped out for me was the subject of why I need to move my art outside of Philadelphia. Once I had chosen my topic, I spoke with Mira and stated, "I am really interested in writing this article. But I will only write it if I can be completely candid about my experience failing to make Philadelphia my artistic home." Gladly (and probably a bit nervously), she accepted my request and I moved forward to write this piece. Please be sure to click the link below to read my personal experience trying to work in the Philadelphia dance scene for 5 years and why I have spent the last 7 months transitioning my choreographic and teaching career from the birthplace of our nation to the capitol of the dance world. Enjoy!

Curate This - Crossing the Border - "Disorganization, Nepotism, and Lack of Community"