#1 Why bother to write this down?

One day I found myself staring at all the eager dance students in my class and sadly shaking my head.  All of them were working so hard and all of them had absolutely no idea what they were getting themselves into.  What would happen to them if they actually succeeded in mastering the technique and entered the professional level?  The problem was (and is) that most of my students and most of their parents for that matter only saw the glamorous side of the profession: the costumes, the performances, the travel, the public acclaim, etc.  True – dance is those things but there’s also another side to the business that is not quite so wonderful: physical adversity, low pay, little job security and a guaranteed mid-life crisis when your body can no longer keep up with the physical demands.  How could I prepare my students for this life?  I decided to write down my own experiences in the world of dance, in hopes that it will give dance students and their parents some insight into the business of professional dance.  From there, they can make their own informed decisions.

So who am I?  I am a dancer.  Nobody famous.  Just one dancer who like many others spent a lot of years training for a profession that concentrates on the here and now.  We give live (never to be repeated) performances that are attended by a set number of people.  Some of our performances leave a lasting impact on those who saw them and some of our performances simply fade away into a vast void of lost memories.  My finest moments on stage were never recorded and who except a few remember them?  So why do it?  Good question.  Believe me – I have pondered that question a lot.  The answer is that dance is that primal connection to our emotional lives – beyond the material world that we live in.  A combination of the physical movement and the creative input forces us to constantly connect with our true essence.   How we connect to our fellow human beings is the only thing in life that is truly important.  Whether you can afford to buy a luxury car or own a big house doesn’t really make a big difference in the large scheme of things.

A life in dance does have its downsides.  My own mother said that she made two mistakes with me.  The first mistake was allowing me to start dancing.  The second mistake was allowing me to continue dancing.  Now if you ask my opinion, I think that my life as a dancer and a choreographer has been a wonderful experience.  It has given me the opportunity to travel around the world, follow my own creative impulses and has given me wonderful insights into the human spirit. I do however appreciate my mother’s view.  She sees a grown woman who lives paycheck to paycheck with no job security, no pension, no benefits and no assets.  For me the upside of a dancer’s life is that I’ve never had to worry about “keeping up with the Joneses”.  The “Joneses” and I are pretty much living on different planets.  I will admit that I tend to discourage kids from pursuing a life in dance.  If a student is truly passionate about dancing, then they will become a dancer despite the hardships.  Those who choose dance as a profession do so because they have to.  Either that – or they’re nuts.

As I tell my students, my career in dance was probably a perfect example of how NOT to be a professional dancer.  Unlike many of my colleagues who after finishing their training joined a company where they remained for their entire active careers, I chose to move from company to company – dance form to dance form.  I always wanted to know what was behind the next door.  Despite the fact that moving between dance companies can seriously harm your career (you were supposed to stay in one) – I managed to survive.

So back to the question: Who am I?  A dancer, which means a bit of an egomaniac.  Ballet and other forms of physical activity tend to develop a narcissistic personality.  Think about it.  Have you ever started an exercise program?  Do you remember how hard it was to concentrate on yourself and your body for the hour-long workout?  Now imagine doing this for six and a half hours a day – six times a week – year after year.  It’s the “me, me, me” mentality of a five year old.  Some of us manage to outgrow this stage of our lives when we retire (although many don’t) and I sometimes wonder if we are ever able to totally free ourselves from it.

I’m also socially inept.  The world of ballet is not conducive to healthy mental maturing.  Ballet is a monarchy.  The director is king and you as their subject are to do what you are told.  I am still amazed that I rarely opened my mouth to talk until I was twenty-three years old.  I would leave after performance receptions feeling quite good about how I carried myself – only to find out later that I hadn’t spoken a single word.  Apparently I had been carrying on all the conversations in my head.  Another reason that I have had problems relating to other people (specifically strangers) is that my parents moved every six months (due to my father’s job) until I was nine.  Nine years of being the new kid on the block that all other children approached with trepidation and sometimes malice meant that I quickly learned to keep myself amused.

I am known as a woman who speaks her mind, regardless of the consequences.  In an industry full of flatterers and hypocrites, I’ve had to become comfortable with my decision to be honest and frank.  Now this does not mean that I am always right and this certainly doesn’t mean that I go out of my way to hurt other people’s feelings.  Diplomacy is often essential.  A good example would be after I sat through a colleague’s train wreck of a show and he asked me what I thought of his performance.  What would you have said?  I told him that his costuming choice had really enhanced the entire production – which was true.  The first time I saw this production, he was practically naked.  I’m not big on the “naked on stage” thing.  I’m telling you – the sight of his overaged belly giggling over his barely covered private parts really left a lot to be desired.  See – I was honest.  I have found that taking the diplomatic route does present its own perils – especially in an industry where everyone knows each other.  All of us have developed little catch phrases that allow us to gracefully function with our fellow artists.  While they don’t bluntly reveal your true opinion – they don’t exactly lie either.  “I’ve never seen anything like it before” means the performance was so bad that you’re praying that you will never have to see anything like this again.  “You really stood out” means that you were so bloody awful that you stuck out from the rest of the group for all of the wrong reasons.  Little compliments like this last for a couple of months but eventually the people around you begin to understand the double entendre and you’re back to searching for a new way to praise the mundane and the mediocre.

I am always honest and open with my friends, my students and those whom I respect.  Friends and close colleagues know that if they really don’t want to know what I think – don’t ask.  Please don’t ask.  As I tell everyone to whom I am about to give my opinion to:  It’s only my opinion; it’s not the truth.  It’s my opinion today but it might not be my opinion tomorrow.  I reserve the right to change my mind.  The only thing that I am certain about is that many of the truths that our society holds dear today will change.  I feel lucky to have lived through so many of society’s changes.  When I was born blacks still rode at the back of the bus, women were supposed to go to college to find a husband and equality meant behaving like a white male – versus behaving as yourself.  All I know is that the truths that guide us today might not exist a hundred years from now and I’d like to keep an open mind about what is and is not true.  To quote Buddha: Believe nothing, no matter where you read it or who has said it, not even if I have said it, unless it agrees with your own reason and your own common sense.