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!

Adapting to Differing Company Practices

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

AK-BK Students in Contemporary Technique Class

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

New York Called

My view from the Bolt Bus as I wrote this post

Nearly 15 years ago, I sat in the backseat of my mom’s car with my luggage packed in the trunk and stars in my teary eyes. We were waiting in line to pass through the bottle-necking entrance of the Lincoln Tunnel. I had just completed my final year of pre-professional training at the School of American Ballet, was embarking on an exciting career journey, and had just offered goodbyes to many friends that I still remain close to today. While I was sad to say goodbye to my friends and to move on to the next stage of my dance life, I wasn’t crying for either of those reasons. I knew then that it would be quite awhile before I called the city that I felt so closely connected to home. The city that inspired me to work hard. The city that showed me art mattered. The city where I grew from child to man. There I was, in the back seat of the car talking out loud as if the city had ears, “One day you’ll be home again. I’ll be back!” Well, I’m not one to say things that I don’t mean. Today is that day.

Awhile back, I wrote a post titled “New York Calling,” where I considered the fact that New York seems to hold some strange gravitational pull for any artist that calls themselves dancer. At that time, I was caught in the middle of my freelance performance career floating from gig to gig with little direction but the wind. I wasn’t necessarily getting much work in the city, but I was receiving little sparks of possibility as I began dreaming of settling down from traveling for a little bit. While I started feeling that pull to return a few years ago, circumstances just seemed incorrect or impossible to move the hour and a half hop, skip, and jump north of my hometown.

At one point in my life, I would have probably just run with my gut feeling and moved to the city without furniture, job, or care for how I was going to make something happen. But things changed at some point along my artistic journey. When I first met my partner, I gave him the daunting ultimatum, “Don’t make me choose between you and my career...because I won’t choose you.” After agreeing to this intense consideration, he moved to Seattle to be with me (I claimed 2 weeks after he moved that I was auditioning to leave PNB, which took nearly 5 years to actually happen) and later relocated to Philadelphia for the next stage of my career. But by the time I started realizing Philly wasn't working out, I couldn’t choose between him or my career. He had already given up so much just to be with me, so I needed to give him a chance to develop himself and his career. So, I’ve freelanced out of Philadelphia for 4 years and ignored the pull of the dance capitol.

I came to a realization in the last year, mostly brought on by my first extended period of time staying home in Philly the first half of 2015. During my time at home, I did everything that I could possibly do to find inspiring work and connect myself to the greater Philadelphia professional dance scene. I sent applications to teach at pre-professional training programs, I applied for a ballet master position with PA Ballet, and I reached out to find a way to be a part of the greater ballet scene the city has to offer. At one point, I even applied for a week-long collaboration residency that placed Philadelphia-based artists with others in different genres. My rejection letter was kind, but I was disheartened by the feedback that stated, "It seems you are more interested in meeting artists than collaborating with them."

While there were moments of hope, I was left to go back to my regular way of working; creating my own inspiration and traveling the country to places that valued my work. By the time this summer had passed, I began craving outside inspiration and a place to call my artistic home. And it just seemed that Philly wasn't going to offer that to me. I knew what I had to do. But I was afraid to say it. I was afraid to ask. I was afraid to give myself permission. What if I moved to New York?

I spent much of the fall season working on my Core-ography project and developing my AK-BK Intensive Winter Workshop in Anchorage. But New York was on my mind the whole time. Slowly, but surely, I realized that I had to make this happen. During a quick visit to the city right before heading up to Alaska this past December, I mentioned to a good friend that I have freelanced with in the past that I was looking for a place to live. I was just catching this friend up on what I was doing. And, by chance, he happened to have a room opening up at his apartment.

Fast-forward a little over a month later, and here I am (I started this blog on the bus and finished after I settled in) laying in my brand new bedroom, staring out my window at the beaming George Washington Bridge, and smiling after my first day as a new resident of this incredible city. What am I going to do now that I'm here? I don't know. But I am so excited to have hope, possibility, and dreams staring me straight on. I look forward to looking back at this post down the road and seeing where this risk and adventure takes me.

View of George Washington Bridge from my bedroom window