A Positive Look at My Recent Failure

As I sit here at the Bill and Hillary Clinton National Airport patiently waiting for my delayed first flight home to Philadelphia, I can't help but think about my failure in winning the Visions Choreographic Competition at Ballet Arkansas. Five talented choreographers from Boston, Chicago, Oklahoma City, and San Francisco (oh yeah...and me from Philly) convened for a week in the southern state of Arkansas to create a teaser work to present onstage in 11 achingly short hours. We all took this risk in hopes of receiving positive critiques from the judges (amongst them Glenn Edgerton) and to potentially receive a commission with Ballet Arkansas. After a week of planning, creativity, and great effort, my dancers threw themselves into my work and gave a glimmer of what could potentially be a much larger scale piece. Alas, another deserving choreographer won that commission, and I sit here at my gate sipping my Starbucks coffee and writing about my failure. But this failure isn't a bad thing.

The dance world is and has always been obsessed with success. "Wow! She is only 15 years old and she just got hired by New York City Ballet!""He choreographed his first ballet and all of a sudden companies everywhere are seeking him out for new commissions!" "They filled in for a dancer who got injured with only a few hours notice and were almost immediately promoted!" These are not irregular conversation pieces I have come across throughout my dance career. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, these statements have never been said about me. And the reason for this is because those meteoric success stories are so rare that they are unlikely to happen to about 99 percent of us.

So many of us in the dance world dream of rising to the top with an ease of effort and the least amount of failure. But that just doesn't happen as often as we think. Give or take a few, five artists per dance-generation can proclaim these momentous stories all the way to the front page of Dance Magazine or Pointe. So, where does that leave the rest of us? If one wants to move forward, it forces the rest of us to suffer both small and great failures as we pass from success to success.

So, let's take a look at my very recent failure. I really began choreographing back in 2008 at Pacific Northwest Ballet's Choreographers Showcase. Since that first work, I have choreographed for the National Choreographers Initiative, Seattle's Men in Dance festival, the Philly Fringe Festival, Alaska Dance Theatre, multiple other PNB showcases, and won an award from Youth America Grand Prix. Nearly 6 months ago, I decided to apply for Ballet Arkansas' Visions Choreographic Competition. I was drawn to this experience for multiple reasons. First off, any chance to create on professionals is a success. Beyond this, my work would have the opportunity to be seen by a new community, a renowned figure in the international dance community, and some of my national colleagues. In fact, to be chosen out of 31 candidates to be a finalist for this venture was a great success. Do you see where I'm going with this?

When all 5 of the finalist's short works were presented yesterday evening, each of us had already achieved success by making it to the performance stage of this competition. As of 7 PM last night, none of us had failed in our risk of entering to choreograph. But by the end of the night, one choreographer would become more successful at this event than the rest of us. If none of us had actually had the aplomb to put ours work on the line, we wouldn't have had the chance to be successes or failures. At the end of the night, I was a failure. But it was neither a bad thing to fail, nor a negative part of my growth as a dance maker. It was an opportunity to work. It was an opportunity to be seen. It was an opportunity to fail. It was an opportunity to succeed. And without all of these opportunities, I wouldn't learn, improve, refine, and cultivate my art.

With success comes failure and with failure comes success. We, especially in the U.S., suffer from the negative connotation that arrives with the word failure. But interestingly enough, most of those of us who experience the most failure also experience the most success. The two go hand in hand and are quite reciprocal. My success in the Visions Choreographic Competition also allowed for my failure. And in the end, I created a new work, added more experience to my queue, expanded my creative network, and much more. I guess I could say that I am really grateful to have had the opportunity to fail. And with this new experience, perhaps, the next time I will succeed more greatly!

How Failure and Risk Helps Me Succeed

A few months ago, when I walked into the advanced ballet class at Alaska Dance Theatre on a warm summer afternoon, I am pretty positive that I caught a few of the kids off guard. I am far from an easy instructor. In fact, I can initially come off a bit harsh in my teaching methods. I'm no bullshit and I will tell a student exactly what I saw. If I truly think they did well or if I have seen marked improvement, I will tell them. But I don't really care to coddle students, patting their backs with comfort, or telling them that it is OK and maybe they'll get it next time. At the time, there wasn't much room for nonsense, anyway, because I wasn't even sure how long these kids would get to have me as their instructor. After what was probably a shockingly difficult barre that required exact precision or a restart to the beginning, I stood in front of the class and told them this. "I want you to fail in my class. Ballet class isn't about succeeding. It's about trying the same step incorrectly multiple ways until you find what works for you. Trip, fall, hold your leg until it is shaking with exhaustion. The studio isn't a place to constantly succeed. It is a place to fail, so that you can ultimately become successful." I don't remember if an instructor ever put it to me this way, but perhaps I feel this way because this is how I live my life outside of the studio.

Attempting to get a good shot as the sunrises over Masada & the Dead Sea in Israel

I've been dancing my whole life, but I didn't fall in love with ballet until I was 15 years old. I was a jazz competition kid who just happened to get bit by the ballet bug while working with choreographer and former New York City Ballet and American Ballet Theatre principal Robert Lafosse. Once I fell in love with ballet, there was no stopping me from achieving a career. With that said, there were countless times that I was told to give up my ballet dreams and head in the direction where I excelled, jazz and musical theatre. Each time I was given that talk, sometimes from the people I most respected, it pushed me to work harder. After finally succeeding at getting into Houston Ballet's year-round program, I probably took the first major risk of my career. After accepting my offer to attend and an August summer intensive with ABT, I came home with three days to pack and head to Texas. As I tried to mentally prepare for a move that I had been waiting over a year to do (I was accepted the year prior, but my mom wouldn't let me go), I slowly began to feel that I shouldn't isolate myself in the middle of the country during the last year or two of my training. I begged my mom to let me risk this opportunity and we drove to New York City to audition for the School of American Ballet year-round program. We drove to Lincoln Center, I auditioned, and the next day I got my results directly from the horses mouth. "No. The notes say, generally poor technique and extremely large quadriceps. Goodbye." I was beside myself!

After this crushing failure, I could have easily jumped on that flight and began training. But I just couldn't bring myself to leave. One day later, we drove three hours south to the Kirov Academy of Ballet. After a private audition, the late director stated in broken English, "Very slow year for boys. One third scholarship." This was far from my full ride to the Houston Ballet Academy and way out of the financial abilities of my family, but we were able to get a sponsor for my first month in the academy. As I headed down to the Kirov, I knew that I had to get greater sponsorship to continue my training at the school, but I felt hopeful that I was still close enough to New York City to feel connected to the center of the dance world. Then, two days later, September 11th happened, my sponsor froze their assets and I was left with an impossibility to continue my training. After the school graciously allowed me to remain for the first two months, they eventually decided to put me on full scholarship and I finished out my year of training.

At the end of my time at the Kirov, I had obtained a corps de ballet contract with Colorado Ballet. While I was ecstatic to begin my career as a professional. I had also been accepted to the School of American Ballet on full scholarship for their summer intensive. SAB was my dream and it had eluded me until this point. Seeing four students who trained at SAB perform in the Nutcracker that Robert Lafosse had choreographed was the defining inspiration that changed the trajectory of my career. I knew that I had to take this summer opportunity to see if a year-round option opened up. If this happened, I was willing to delay my career to live my dream. I called SAB and asked if they were considering me for the year-round program. They told me to take the job with Colorado Ballet because they couldn't promise me anything. So, I excitedly, yet reluctantly, signed my contract and started looking for a place to live in Denver.

A few months later, I arrived in Lincoln Center to finally realize a 5-week version of my dream. After three amazing days working with teachers I had only read about in Dance Magazine, I was pulled into a conference room along with one other classmate. There I was with one of my peers being the first two dancers asked to stay for this world-famous year-round program. I was committed to Denver, but my dream had just arrived. There was no way I could turn down this opportunity, even though it meant I had to train for another year, as well as destroy a very positive connection in the dance world. I promptly called up the director of Colorado Ballet and profusely apologized as I explained that I had to follow my dream. That next year at SAB changed my life as a dancer.

SAB workshops 2003 (Photo: Paul Kolnik)

One ironic part of my path is that turning down Houston Ballet Academy to train at two other schools only led me to get a job dancing with Houston Ballet. I had an interesting year working as one of Stanton Welch's first hires as an Artistic Director. At contract time, Stanton doesn't typically offer re-engagement to any apprentice across the board. AGMA states that dancers can only spend one year with the company as an apprentice, so they either need to be promoted to corps or let go. Typically, the director waits to see amongst the corps who will stay or leave and, only then, starts to promote the apprentices into the corps. When we all were"let go," I didn't feel comfortable waiting around to find out if I would get hired or not. I quickly obtained a contract with Pacific Northwest Ballet and Boston Ballet and signed with PNB. I still wonder to this day if I would have been offered a corps contract, but I was ready to move on to a more positive environment in a more metropolitan city.

My time at PNB has been well-documented in this blog. It had it's mix of highs and lows. While I was secure in my position and well-respected as a union delegate, I was itching to experience something new. I risked all of this security and seniority to try my hand at working with a fledgling, start-up company. After a great first few months, I injured myself and the company didn't support me. I was eventually fired by that company, which I consider one of my greatest failures. It wasn't so great only because I had moved my life to Philadelphia, but more so because I had given up so much to take such a huge risk.

Taking risks daily

While I gave up all of my security and lifestyle to expand my reach and possibilities as an artist, I was now stuck in Philadelphia, burgeoning on poverty, and injured. In these dark circumstances, I had to find a way to survive. This brought me into freelancing, choreographing, writing, teaching, and traveling. If I hadn't experienced the failure that I did, I don't know if I would ever have traveled the country to dance, written articles that have been published in periodicals, been featured in dance publications, or directed an organization 4,000 miles away from home. If I had stayed at PNB, I would probably be stuck in similar circumstances that I was in nearly four years ago.

As I begin to close the chapter on my most recent risk-taking failure, I am curious where life will lead me next. I took a chance to do something that I wasn't sure if it would be a great or poor decision. While I could look at the whole experience as an utter failure, what I am realizing is that my life is much like a dance studio. I spend each day of my life exploring different ways of experiencing this wild career and testing out ways of achieving my best through trial-and-error, or failure. Some things have worked out perfectly on the first try and some things have failed immediately. But in the end, the knowledge that I have gained and the growth I have had will only make my future experiences more successful. Failure can have such a negative connotation in our culture. But I just don't really see it that way. It takes practicing a pirouette ten-thousand times to finally achieve the perfect one. And, sometimes, right after that perfect pirouette, you fall hard on your ass, get back up, and try to make it perfect again.

My greatest success at Alaska Dance Theatre

Dancing in the last frontier

Today, I'm going to offer a little glimpse into my life. Back in June, when I first left my "big company" life, a colleague I had been dancing with mentioned that her close friends had been appointed to lead Alaska Dance Theatre in Anchorage. They asked her if she knew of any male dancers that would be available to dance in what was to be the company's first residential production. This was a big step for the organization, which is restricted by its isolated location. I was excited by this news, as this was the first time anybody had shown interest in having me freelance.

In June, ADT and I had an initial conversation where we expressed our mutual desire to work together. After months of discussion, I was offered to dance in the company's world premiere production of Othello. I spent much of my career praying that the big company I danced with would show me the world on tour. The funny thing is that it took me leaving for that to finally happen.

As quickly as I became excited for this opportunity is as quickly as my excitement turned into fear. What had I done? I just committed to 5 weeks in Alaska...in the winter! Not only was it going to be freezing cold, but it was going to be dark. And there was going to be a lot of snow. And isn't Alaska a really conservative place for a liberal dancer that lives a more alternative lifestyle. Also, what about my partner? We've been together for 6 years and we have never spent more than 2 weeks apart from each other. How could I have not taken all of these things into consideration?

As the days got closer, I became more and more nervous. I was stepping way out of my comfort zone. I was going to stay with a host family. I would be dancing in a company with a brand new artistic director in a style that I wasn't familiar with. But, being the person that I am, I always calm my fears by being very open and honest about my concerns. This can sometimes be uncomfortable, but there are some things that you must ask if they are important to you. Luckily, ADT's ballet mistress, Dubraskha Arrivillaga, was very helpful in addressing my concerns.

On January 30th, I embarked on my 15ish hour trip to the "Last Frontier." I arrived late in the evening. This was the first time that I had ever been greeted at an airport with my name on a sign. As we drove to my host family's house, I watched smoke and steam rising out of houses at a glacial pace through the bitterly cold air. It was -15 degrees. All of the roads were snow covered and the city felt a bit more suburb than city.

Welcome to Alaska Dance Theatre

I moved in with my host family and had a day to acclimate myself to the time and culture change. Living with a host family can be a great experience. I grew to feel at home with them. After a day off to adjust, a brand new group of dancers converged at the ADT studios to create art and to offer dance to a community that has never had a high-quality, fully professional residential dance company. It was a risk for all involved, but sometimes in the greatest risks come the grandest rewards.

We spent the next 5 weeks with Artistic Director, Gillmer Duran, creating his new production of Othello. We took class every day at 9:30 am and rehearsed until about 4 pm, when the school began classes for the day. One aspect of rehearsals that I really enjoyed was that the choreographic process tended to be equal part choreography being set and equal part collaboration. This production felt like it belonged to both the choreographer and dancers. After rehearsal ended for the day, company dancers were also given the opportunity to share their knowledge by teaching in the school.

Matanuska Glacier

When our work days ended, if we weren't too exhausted, we would hang out with one another. The atmosphere was quite familial and very supportive. I was even able to convince my partner to visit for a week to experience Alaska with me and to make sure that we didn't go 5 weeks without seeing each other. During the weekends, we had time to explore the wondrous beauty that Alaska has to offer. We were lucky enough to have associate artistic director, company dancer, and school coordinator, Sarah Grundwalt, to show us the ways of the biggest state in the U.S. Sarah is a native Anchoragite and she was a tour guide for her brother's Alaskan sightseeing bus company as a young adult. On any given weekend, Sarah would call me up and say, "What do you want to see today." Whether she could partake in the activity or not, she made sure that it happened. Mountains, glaciers, lakes, restaurants, snowshoeing, culture...you think of it, Sarah helped coordinate it.

All in all, the performances went very well. The local audience, which tends to have the attitude of "if it's home-grown, it's not high-quality," was pleasantly surprised. Both shows were extremely well received and very well attended. As a dancer in the production, I was very proud to have the opportunity to share my passion for dance with a maturing arts community. I would not have had this experience had I been tied down to a full-time company. One of the joys of freelancing is that you get to share your art with multiple audiences. Sometimes the audiences are small and uneducated, while at other time they can be large and experienced. In Anchorage, we were teaching a young audience that great dance can happen anywhere in the world, even in the "Last Frontier." This was the most rewarding part of the experience.

Moose in the ADT parking lot

Upon leaving, I was able to reflect on the amazing experience that freelancing brought me. I was pulled out of my comfort zone and Alaska proved me wrong. There were cold days, but there were also warmer days. It snowed a lot and it was dark at times, but Anchorage gained 5 minutes of sunlight everyday that we were there. Even in a state that can be more conservative, people can be liberal, open-minded, and appreciate the arts. I can go to work and there can be a moose in the parking lot. I watched 10 reindeer chase hundreds of people down a city street. I can go downtown and share a cocktail with a political figure, a counselor, a dogsled musher, and a woman with a half dozen roses and baby's breath woven into her hair. And I can be the artist that I am meant to be. My experience with Alaska Dance Theatre really caught me off guard and in the most positive way. I hope that one day I will have the opportunity to return.

Beluga Point, AK (photo credit: Shalem Photography)

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