In making Chasing Canyons, I set out to choreograph a site-specific dance for a site so big it is impossible to see in its entirety. I began with my geologic knowledge of the Grand Canyon, built from my years of scientific training and the weeks I spent climbing up and down its walls. The resulting gesture phrase follows the canyon’s life cycle: the initial crush of its basement rocks, the tilting of overlying strata, the massive gap in time known as the Great Unconformity, subsequent deposition of layers upon layers of sediments, and, finally, the coming of the Colorado River to uncover it all. From there, I began to draw the parts of the canyon that I could see, tracing the terraces and side canyons, dragging feet and fingers from the tops of the cliffs to the shady hollows at the base. I worked in the positions of the stars above the canyon, which mark its location in space and time. Then I merged it all together to create a moving map, not just of the canyon, but of how humans relate to it.

Connecting the canyon to the stars raised more questions: How do we interact with beautiful spaces, here on Earth and elsewhere? When we land on Mars, will we be owners or caretakers? At the end of the piece, I answer these questions: I erase the map. Much like art and science, I think that “to boldly go” and “take only pictures, leave only footprints” are two complementary, not conflicting, philosophies.

My time as the Astronomer (and dancer) in Residence at the canyon has ended, but I will carry it in my body as well as my mind. It is my greatest hope that in making these kinds of dances, I can inspire audiences to expand their minds—to explore the different ways we can understand, learn, and appreciate the universe in which we live.

The post Dancing Across the Solar System as the Grand Canyon’s Astronomer in Residence appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Evans-Krueger, who graduated from Wright State University with a BFA in dance, possesses a magnetic presence, ethereal movement quality, and contagious passion. She will bring this winning trifecta to The Outsiders (which opens April 11 on Broadway) as both a performer and associate choreographer.

Food for the Soul

“The workload within this industry can be exhausting. But at the same time, when you’re performing as part of a show that you really believe in, night after night, it feels like it’s for a reason and a purpose. When a show sits right within your soul, even the hardest workdays are beyond worth it, and that’s what so many of us are searching for in life.”

Making the Space

“I am very observant. I’m good at reading a room and fitting into wherever someone needs me. I want to be open and I want people to feel free to express themselves in a space. To prepare for my leadership role with The Outsiders, I make sure I do what I need to do—like journaling, taking my morning walk—so that I am grounded within myself before I step into a space where I am expected to be a support system for other people.”

All the Right Questions

“I’m very curious about why I am the way I am, and why people are the way they are. Digging into my humanity and diving deeper into what makes me me is an inspiration for the work that I do. When it comes to choreographing, I ask myself: ‘What do I need to heal? What do I want to discover about relationships?’ I feel like my life’s work is about breaking down all of the things I grew up on so I was and am able to build a foundation that works for me.”

The post Broadway Dancer Tilly Evans-Krueger Seeks Authenticity Above All appeared first on Dance Magazine.

“There’s a little bit of everything,” he says. “Tap is probably the only thing we don’t have.”

It may be an exaggeration, but not by much. In the show’s ballet- and contemporary-inspired tornado scene, a storm of dancers destroys Dorothy’s home and sends her off to Oz. Once she gets there, she’s swept up in a New Orleans–style second line that leads her down the Yellow Brick Road, where she meets a Tinman who pops-and-locks. Eventually, she is ushered into the Emerald City amongst a dizzying array of dances from the Black diaspora, from street styles out of Atlanta to Afrobeats to the South African amapiano. 

Though The Wiz may have one of the most versatile casts of dancers on Broadway right now—and, in Knight, a choreographer who has shown from his expansive commercial career that he can do pretty much anything—the show’s pull-out-all-the-stops movement isn’t about showing off. Instead, it’s a form of placemaking, says director Schele Williams, grounding Dorothy in elements of Black culture as she journeys through Oz and back home again.

“I liken Dorothy’s journey to a walk through the woods,” she says. “You can turn a corner, and it’s a gorgeous meadow. And then you can go another 40 yards and all of a sudden there’s a lake. Every turn, you can be in a new location with its own set of rules. It gives us permission to fully immerse ourselves in a new location.”

Tapping into his encyclopedic knowledge of dance genres to create a unique vocabulary was nothing new for Knight, who has spent years choreographing for top pop stars, most notably Beyoncé. What was new for him: the genre of musical theater, and the task of using those dances to tell a story.

And not just any story. The Wiz, a retelling of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz and a staple of Black culture, was revolutionary when it premiered in 1975 with choreography by George Faison, winning seven Tony Awards, including Best Musical and Best Choreography. A film adaptation starring Diana Ross and Michael Jackson, with choreography by Louis Johnson, came three years later. Several efforts to reignite a Broadway production have been in the works since, including a revival in 1984 that only lasted 13 performances, and another attempt in 2004 that never got off the ground.

This time, The Wiz team predicts, will be different. Williams believes the world needs this show, with its joy-infused score and hope-filled message, right now. And by taking the production out of the ’70s and adding some contemporary innovations—in addition to Knight’s genre-bending choreography, there are updates to the book by comedian Amber Ruffin; costumes by Sharen Davis (of “Westworld,” “Watchmen,” and Dreamgirls); a dazzling set by Hannah Beachler, of Black Panther; and a modernized score by music team Joseph Joubert, Allen René Louis, Adam Blackstone, and Paul Byssainthe Jr.—they hope it will become timeless.          

“I really wanted to create something that didn’t feel super ‘now,’ ” says Knight, “but takes you on a journey of Black dance. Throughout the show you see how these people live, how they move, how they celebrate, how they mourn, how they support each other, how they find a family.”           

Knight began building the show’s choreography in October 2022. He workshopped movement in Los Angeles with some of his go-to commercial dancers. “I dreamed as big as I could,” Knight says. “For me, it was about, How do we keep the essence­ and energy of what George Faison did, and also bring JaQuel Knight to the table?”

Broadway veteran and The Wiz dance captain Amber Jackson says the dance call was one of the most intense she’s experienced, with long, fast combos that constantly switched between styles, and rooms jam-packed with a who’s who of Black dance talent. A dance workshop with the chosen few—many of whom were Broadway newbies like Knight—followed, then rehearsals, then the national tour, then another round of rehearsals and tweaks before Broadway previews.

Reviews of the tour seem to agree that the production is highly entertaining, if a bit flashy. But as far as the choreography is concerned, nothing is flashy for flashiness’ sake. “I think the movement does a really beautiful job of not letting the audience feel detached from it,” says ensemble member Maya Bowles. “It’s not so codified in technique that it’s like, ‘That’s so impressive.’ It feels familiar. It feels like home. It feels like something that’s inherently in us as a Black community. It’s something you can be a part of. The invitation is open.”

From Beyoncé to Broadway

Theater was already on Knight’s bucket list when he got the offer to choreograph The Wiz, a call that, he says, made him “lose his mind.” Moving from commercial dance to Broadway presented a new opportunity: Knight, who is so often tasked with executing the vision of another artist—whether Beyoncé, Megan Thee Stallion, or Britney Spears—had a chance to discover his own vision. “I feel like I’m given room to explore my creativity and shape my voice as a movement artist,” he says. “And I’m enjoying that.”

Being new to theater, and therefore not beholden to ideas of how things are “supposed to be” done, has given Knight freedom to push the boundaries of what dance on Broadway can look like, says Phillip Johnson Richardson, who plays the Tinman. “He has the audacity to reinvent the whole thing,” Richardson says, “and not think of it like, ‘We can’t touch that, that’s classic material.’ ”

A New Kind of Tinman

In most productions of The Wiz, during the song “Slide Some Oil to Me,” the Tinman shows off his newly lubricated joints with a tap dance. But in Knight’s interpretation, the dance break becomes a showstopping hip-hop moment that Richardson, who plays the Tinman, says revealed the whole character to him.

The movement—lots of popping, locking, and waving—felt familiar to Richardson, reminding him of dances he watched growing up. “It was like, ‘Oh, I know who this guy is,’ ” says Richardson. “ ‘And I know how I can approach this guy.’ It informed how I wear my hat—I was originally supposed to wear it to the front, and I was like, ‘Nah, he’d wear it to the back or the side.’ He’s a lot closer to me than I originally thought.”

The post <i>The Wiz</i> Returns to Broadway Nearly 50 Years After Its Premiere With More Dance Than Ever appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Company: Houston Ballet

Age: 21

Hometown: Indianapolis, Indiana

Training: Dance Creations Academy, Houston Ballet Academy, Houston Ballet II

Destination Houston: Best bonded with Houston Ballet during his first summer intensive there in 2018. “I improved so much and made so many friends. I felt this is a place where I can grow and learn,” he says. During his next summer, in Los Angeles at a Debbie Allen Dance Academy intensive, he met guest teacher Lauren Anderson, who is Houston Ballet Academy’s associate director of education and community engagement. “She said, ‘Oh, you need to get back to Houston, like, right away.’ So I did.”

Quick rise: After joining Houston Ballet II in 2021, Best apprenticed with the main company in 2022, and sailed into the corps in 2023. After a flurry of lead roles, he was promoted to soloist at the beginning of the season, a time he describes as “taking that leap of faith and going along for the ride. I’ve surprised myself with what I was actually capable of doing and because of Stanton [Welch] and Julie [Kent]’s support and faith in me.”

Midsummer doubleheader: Houston audiences got to know just how much Best was capable of when he landed major roles—Lysander and Puck—in both casts of John Neumeier’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream at the start of this season.

What the co-artistic directors are saying: “Eric has such physical intelligence, his mind–body connection is extraordinary,” says Julie Kent. “There’s a divine quality to his dancing. Also, he looks great at every angle.” Stanton Welch shares that “Eric is a phenomenal talent. He is so musical, and brings such detail to my ballets. I get to choreograph without limit, and he makes me want to be a better choreographer.”

Speaking the same language: Best’s affinity for Welch’s intricate choreography comes through in the growing list of Welch’s ballets he’s performed thus far. “Now I can go into his new works knowing what he’s going to bring and what he’s looking for,” says Best. “I just try to come in with the same energy, ready to work.” Clear, originally created after 9/11, made a profound impact on Best. “Every time I watch this ballet or I perform it or rehearse it, I always find something new that ties to the narrative of it.”

Beyond dancing: Best loves drawing and sketching. “Mostly self-portraits, people, sometimes superheroes. I’m very passionate about art and would like to take more classes,” he says. “I always want to make sure that I keep doing the things that interest me besides dance.”

The post Meet Houston Ballet Soloist Eric Best appeared first on Dance Magazine.

I always try to reflect all my experi­ences, and my way of seeing flamenco, when I am choreographing. I want students to be able to capture and see in the creative process how I feel about flamenco, because since I was a very young child it has been a way of life for me. I always remember my homeland of Granada and my teachers in everything I create.

Working with the musical accom­panists is a joint effort. I give my ideas to the musicians and they give me theirs and thus begins the teamwork for choreography.

Improvisation is central to flamenco. I try steps and choreographic material with the dancers until the desired result is found. Improvisation with musicians is also important because, depending on what they contribute, different choreographic ideas also emerge.

Emotion for me is essential, and I try to make it present in all my choreography.

Expressiveness of the face should come naturally, it’s not something that can be learned or practiced. It is important to imbue the choreography with feelings and the personality that distinguishes each one of us.

When working with students at the university, I begin by focusing on the palo [musical form of flamenco] we’re going to choreograph. I look for something with a similar origin that’s already within the students’ realm of understanding, to capture the essence of the land where the palo originates from. I have choreographed to Tangos de Granada and Alegrías de Cádiz, and I’ve tried to ensure that the essence of those two cities, Granada and Cádiz, is reflected in the choreography and interpretation.

It is important never to see yourself as an island and to seek input and inspiration from those around you. I often go and see the work of my colleagues.

Preparing to work outside flamenco, first I listen to the music that I will interpret. Since I am not in my natural environment, I need to identify and become familiar with it. I then go to the studio and start choreographing. I also seek feedback and advice from dance experts outside the project.

As a professional my schedule is often hectic, but the spontaneity of creation arises at any time because, as an artist, I am always restless.

The post Iván Vargas on Creativity and Inspiration in Flamenco appeared first on Dance Magazine.

As a single working mother, Mom’s dedication amidst the height of the 1970s feminist movement was resolute. The studio often became my sanctuary as she worked passionately for what felt like 24 hours a day. She and her colleagues were on a mission, inspired by Mr. Ailey’s fearless vision, on the verge of international flight. Their solidarity was palpable. It grounded me and many other aspiring artists in the New York dance community at the time.

Surrounded by dancers, from all over the globe—New York locals, talents from Baltimore, Brazil, Eastern Europe, Japan, and beyond—I found a surrogate family in the studio. As a child among them, my youth seemed to bring joy to many who were far away from home. The dancers became my guardians; they nurtured me and supported my development.

One of my most memorable guardians was Pearl Lang, who called me Strawberry Girl, because of my love for strawberry yogurt. Ms. Lang was a Martha Graham dancer who had her own company that my mother danced for at the time. She was also the co-director of The Ailey School alongside Mr. Ailey then, a powerful leading feminist voice in the modern dance movement.

Watching these dancers in their classes began to pique my curiosity. It was as if, through their unapologetic nature and fearless subtleties, they revealed unspoken stories. The more I watched, the more I learned. Their whispers became more tenable and refined. The power of this silent expression, and my developing understanding of unspoken narratives, started to awaken the artistry within me that seemed to transcend gender and race.

My witnessing during these early years laid the foundation for my artistic journey and identity. It anchored my practice in the profound humanity and activism that I saw through others. It evolved into a comprehension of human behavior, people at their most powerful moments and in their most vulnerable ones. It was through their silent eloquence that I began to understand the artistic language of the soul. It was not only seeing their development as artists that moved me deeply, but through watching their process as human beings. As I witnessed this personal process, they became the most beautiful human beings in my eyes. I can still see and feel them living out their dreams through integrity and perseverance, one day at a time.

The post Francesca Harper, Artistic Director of Ailey II, Shares How She Found a Surrogate Family in Dance appeared first on Dance Magazine.

With her elongated limbs and polished port de bras, Clark is a remarkably self-possessed dancer who uses her 5′ 10 1/2″ frame to fully inhabit every choreographic moment and musical note. She debuted in a slew of roles in 2023, including the Tall Girl in George Balanchine’s “Rubies” and the lead woman in Haieff Divertimento, which hadn’t been performed by NYCB since 1994. As more opportunities continue to come her way, Clark is determined to squeeze as much as possible out of each experience: “My overarching goal is always to continue growing—in my technique, my artistry, and my approach to new roles.”

Embracing the Unfamiliar
“I love exploring different movement styles, even if they’re not my forte. When I was rehearsing Justin Peck’s sneaker ballet The Times Are Racing, I had to tackle questions like ‘How does my weight need to be distributed differently in a sneaker versus a pointe shoe?’ or ‘How can I syncopate the steps and accent certain moments that reveal different aspects of the music?’ ”

Using Imagination as a Tool
“As an English major at Columbia University, I love storytelling. When preparing for a role, I imagine a character or story to inform my movement. Even for something plotless like Haieff Divertimento or ‘Rubies,’ there’s a certain flavor to each part. It’s helpful to think about steps in terms of analogies and images, ranging from moving my hands through water to embodying a strand of seaweed in the ocean.”

A Recurring Pinch-Me Moment
“Dancing Balanchine’s Serenade always feels like a career-reaffirming experience. I’ve performed it for many seasons, and every time, it hits me that I’m living in the tableau I dreamed of for so long. It’s such a community-based ballet, and one of my favorite things about this career is connecting with the dancers around me—they’re my best friends and greatest sources of inspiration. To dance as part of a group, especially in a ballet containing so much meaning and joy, will always be a highlight.”

The post New York City Ballet Dancer Christina Clark Is Celebrating Every Stage appeared first on Dance Magazine.

I’ve had to, and I still have to, overcome so many adversities in dance. But one thing I am proud of is that, no matter what happens, giving up has never been an option for me. As an artist you learn how to develop love, patience, space, and a deep understanding of why you do what you do.

How does dance make me feel? Is it even a feeling, or is it a moment, a dream, a reality? I only know that I am myself fully when I am onstage dancing. That’s where I feel safe and right at home.

As a Black Latina, immigrant, mother, and woman I carry so much culture and so many ancestors. I embrace all of them. They make me unique, and I bring them to my dance, making it unique.

Over the years my relationship with dance has changed drastically. There have been many ups and downs, disappointments and moments of great happiness, especially after becoming a mother. I can’t quite explain, but I feel more powerful when I am onstage, because onstage I can just be an artist. I don’t have to prove anything. Choosing this art form has given my life a new purpose.

Dance to me is connection, creativity, love, a way to tell a story, and that’s why I do it. But I also see dance as a type of transformation. I continue to expand my artistry on- and offstage. I’m working to change the future of dance.

The post Dance Theatre of Harlem’s Ingrid Silva Shares How She Feels Safe and at Home When Dancing Onstage appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Greta is not real. She’s the personification of the creative idea, as imagined by the Soles of Duende trio: Castro, Brinda Guha, and Arielle Rosales. Other times, a dancer might call out “parking lot,” to table an idea they don’t have time for, or “mangu,” which is the name of a mashed plantain dish and signals they’re too drained or overloaded to think clearly. 

Any group develops their own lingo after spending hours together. But for three dancers working in different physical languages—kathak (Guha), flamenco (Rosales), and tap (Castro)—this shared verbal lexicon streamlines the creative process. “They don’t share the same style, but they share the same kind of creative energy,” says tap dancer Jason Samuels Smith, who recently worked with the trio during a residency at the Chelsea Factory in New York City. “Some collaborations can feel forced. But with them, you feel the chemistry, you feel the camaraderie.” And at a moment when cross-cultural conversations can feel fraught, these artists are showcasing the power of embracing our differences.      

Distinct Voices in Harmony

Soles of Duende, or “Soles” as the dancers call it, started in 2016 when Guha and Rosales had an opportunity to perform at Dixon Place. The pair had met as colleagues at Broadway Dance Center and had already done a few projects together, and they wanted to weave in an additional percussive dance voice this time. “We needed a third sound so it wasn’t just a back-and-forth, but a conversation amongst a team,” says Guha. Then, at Run The Night, a commercial dance competition led by Jared Grimes, Guha watched Castro set the audience afire with a tap dance solo to an excerpt of “Winter,” from Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. She knew she’d found their third voice.   

The first time all three gathered as a group was for a publicity-photo shoot for the piece they hadn’t begun rehearsing for yet. Still, the vibes flowed. “It was like we were all long-lost friends,” says Guha.

The work they created was a hit, and they were asked to perform it again…and again. “People want to see virtuosity in music and rhythm that doesn’t include machismo and competition,”­ says Guha. By 2018, Soles was back at Dixon Place as artists in residence creating the first iteration of their full-length work Can We Dance Here? That work has since become­ a calling card, with the latest version taking the stage at The Joyce Theater this January as part of the American Dance Platform. 

In the audience of that 2018 run was critic and curator Eva Yaa Asantewaa, who, wowed by their vivacity and generosity as performers, would later commission Soles for Gibney’s Spotlight Series in New York City. “I was completely won over, not only by their individual technical and aesthetic capabilities but also by the seamless, joyful way they blended these discrete percussive dance styles and energies,” she says.

Experimentation and Negotiation

In Soles’ work, the dancers sometimes “pass the mic” back and forth, and sometimes dance in unison. But much of the magic happens when they each tackle the same rhythm in their own style, showcasing just how many similarities live within their differences. “We hear music very similarly often, but the way we physically execute the step is very different,” Rosales says. To get a better sense of each other’s weight distribution, the three will sometimes put on each other’s shoes, or Guha’s ghungroo ankle bells, and do traditional warm-ups in each other’s forms. 

Choreographing is a constant negotiation—with each other, and with how they represent their forms. “We have a Boricua from Connecticut doing tap dance. We have a Mexican Jew who grew up on the Lower East Side doing flamenco. We have a Bengali American who’s learning a North Indian classical dance form in New Jersey,” says Guha. “Are we even allowed to make these artistic decisions? And when do we move forward with and without blessings, and when do we experiment in good faith?” Those questions are part of what informed the title of Can We Dance Here? (The other part is more literal: The trio has often been offered residencies, but told they couldn’t make noise and wouldn’t have a percussive floor.)

All three are very aware that work in historically marginalized forms must be done with integrity. “Even when we have choreographic disagreements, we’re like, ‘Well, why do you feel like that?’ And then we end up having an hour-long conversation about history and why this step is this way,” says Castro. 

Yes, They Can Dance Here

Today, Soles also includes three live musicians. They’re treated as both a band and a dance group, which can open up opportunities at many types of venues but can also sometimes mean performing on small stages with amazing sound quality but little space to move. Now, with a 2023 Bessie nomination for Outstanding Breakout Choreographer and rave reviews in The New York Times, they’re hoping to get the best of both worlds soon. This year, the group is wrapping up the final performances of Can We Dance Here? and working on a new feature-length work to premiere in 2025. 

They’ve stopped asking for permission to dance because, wherever they are, they know they’ll find a way to do it. “Even when we wait for the train to go back home, we’ll hear the subway and we’ll just start clapping,” says Rosales. “And now we’re jamming and stomping and doing vocals to the sound of the train going by. That’s how we hang out.”

Meet the Trio: Amanda Castro

When people ask Amanda Castro what kind of dancer she is, she likes to tell them “I’m a storyteller.” 

She could also say she was that BFA student who choreographed tap dance numbers at the experimental California Institute of the Arts, even after the dean told her not to. Or that she followed four years at Urban Bush Women with stints in a regional production of In the Heights and as Anita in a tour of West Side Story. Or that she now works with heavy-hitting tap dance stars like Ayodele Casel, Dormeshia, Jason Samuels Smith, Jared Grimes, Caleb Teicher, and others. She could mention being one of Dance Magazine’s “25 to Watch” in 2023, and winning a Bessie for Outstanding Performer later that year. 

But she sticks with what she sees as her mission as a dancer: to tell stories. “Yes, there are different languages, which are the different styles of dance,” she says. “But I’m here to provide a service to the people.”

Meet the Trio: Brinda Guha

Collaboration has long driven Brinda Guha’s work. It’s even why she fell in love with kathak itself. “I realized how kathak was a confluence of Hindu and Muslim cultures and religions, how it exemplifies how people actually work together and live together and express together and make music together,” she says. 

Today, in addition to her work as a dancer and company manager with Soles of Duende, Guha is the artistic director of contemporary Indian dance ensemble Kalamandir Dance Company, curator of arts showcase Wise Fruit NYC, and senior producing coordinator for Dance/NYC. Her main goals are to investigate what makes any art form contemporary and to work from a place that’s driven by the feminine divine, whether in the exploration of contemporary Indian dance in her personal dance practice or through collaboration. 

To better understand the essen­tial elements of dance, she’s sought out practitioners from other forms.  It’s why she first decided to collaborate with Arielle Rosales. “There was this dialogue around where our personal styles found a way to speak to each other cohesively, and when they were in dissonance,” Guha says. That dialogue has only grown deeper through her work in Soles. 

Meet the Trio: Arielle Rosales

On her website, Arielle Rosales calls herself a “social engagement performing artist.” It was a term she chose, she says, because she could never find the right words to describe her work: “Just saying ‘flamenco dancer’ felt inaccurate.” 

In addition to pushing the boundaries of flamenco, Rosales is a percussionist with an all-woman Afro-Brazilian band, and she once ran a multicultural dance school in East Harlem called House of Duende (which hosted some of Soles of Duende’s first rehearsals and led to the group’s name). The phrase “social engagement” also felt like it better encompassed her love of engaging directly with the audi­ence through site-specific work and the lecture-demonstrations she does with Flamenco Vivo Carlota Santana. 

Still, Rosales admits that the term initially came out of a place of fear that her experimentations with the form meant she didn’t fully qualify­ as a flamenco dancer. But that’s changed. “Over the seven years with Soles, because we are so intentional about what traditional things we’re using, and when we’re breaking the rules, in that journey of integrity, now I will call myself a flamenco dancer fully,” she says. “I don’t feel any more like anyone can take that away from me.” 

The post Sole Sisters: The Cross-Cultural Collaboration Soles of Duende Offers Just the Kind of Art We Need Right Now appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Figgins trained at the legendary Jones-Haywood School of Ballet (now Jones-Haywood Dance School) in Washington, DC, then danced leading roles as a member of Dance Theatre of Harlem and performed in the Broadway shows Motown: The Musical and Memphis, among others. Her focus now is on creating caring environments for dancers, and she’s guiding Ballet Tech’s recent initiative to make dance education more accessible in New York City’s public schools.

Dancing is important regardless of whether you’re going to do it professionally or not. Ballet Tech Across New York is about students having a truly enriching experience with dance. Obviously, our hope is that students will graduate from Ballet Tech and use their training to continue pursuing dance and the performing arts, but what about all the students who choose to not pursue performative arts? How are we engaging them? C​reating a safe environment for people to explore dance​ encourages people to remain involved in ​the dance​ community.

We’re giving something back to these communities that are allowing us to come into their schools to identify potential students for our program. These enrichment programs allow us the opportunity to see beyond what the physical body looks like to all the other components that make a dancer a dancer: creativity, musicality, coordination, and the ability to follow directions. An audition process could feel extractive, like we’re going in identifying students who have talent and taking them out of their communities. Now, we’re making sure all the students have a really great experience with dance.

Ballet Tech Across New York offers­ two different tracks. There are schools that already have dance built into their programming, and those schools might want something that’s a little more rigorous, our BT Ballet Basics. The second track, Dance for EveryBODY, lets everybody know that they can dance. The reality is that some bodies don’t want to ​have a straight​ened knee or a pointed foot, or turnout, and th​ose bodies should ​also be able to access dance. In the Dance for EveryBODY class, we do some creative movement, some improvisation, some isolations, and some ballet ​steps, as well.

I’m trying to provide students with what I would have wanted for myself and my peers when I was training. I grew up learning ballet in a predominantly ​Black ​dance community​. I didn’t have to assimilate and leave my cultural expressions of movement​ at the studio door, an experience I have heard time and time again from other Black dance professionals training in predominantly white ballet spaces. ​

When you are Black in ballet, it’s even more pressing to be able to have a critical, intellectual conversation about ballet, because you might not be taken seriously in certain spaces if you can’t. I want students to have as much language and as much learning as possible. Can ​we be critical about stories like Swan Lake? It’s a super-problematic story: Von Rothbart is keeping all these women against their wil​l. Being critical of these works allows us to breathe new life into them, making them more accessible and relatable to this generation.

Dance is not specific for any particular body type or cultural group. It’s something that all of us can enjoy. Sometimes people conflate “ballet” with “dance.” But ballet is just one way people dance, not the only way. I want to give students as much information as possible, so they have as many options as possible as they enter the ever-evolving world of dance.

The post Dionne Figgins on Providing Supportive Dance Education in New York City Public Schools appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Current project: Madonna’s The Celebration Tour

Age: 30

Hometown: Layton, Utah

Training: Dance Impressions (Farmington, Utah), New York City Dance Alliance, Marymount Manhattan College

Accolades: Chita Rivera Award for Outstanding Dancer in a Broadway Show, for Bob Fosse’s DANCIN’

Inspiring others: Andy Pellick vividly remembers noticing Love’s “special sauce” when she was around 12 years old taking his jazz class at NYCDA. Over the years since, when working on choreography “she gives you what you didn’t know you wanted,” he says. “She inspires a choreographer or a teacher or another dancer by doing moves in a way that you didn’t even know was possible. She’s able to be a muse for a lot of people, myself included.”

Swing success: Love was an ensemble dancer in the national tour of Wicked before the pandemic shutdown, and when the show returned, she rejoined as a swing. “The more tracks I learned, it was actually easier to remember them all, because I could understand where everyone was at any given time,” she says. “Swinging almost feels like an out-of-body experience. I can see things in slow motion.”

Dancin’ dreams: Love won a Chita Rivera Award for last year’s Broadway run of Bob Fosse’s DANCIN’. “That show is the dancer’s dream,” she says. “It’s so visceral but also nuanced, and it captured all the essences of what I want to be and portray.” She also loved her castmates. “It’s a game changer when you like everyone you work with and there is a real camaraderie. That’s the first show where I fully got to be myself. We all did.”

Exploring the world: When Love joined Madonna’s world tour—currently running through April, with 79 stops across Europe and North America—it took time to get used to the schedule, which sometimes includes rehearsals until 2 or 3 am. (The choreography is credited to a who’s who of creative minds, including (LA)HORDE, Valeree Young, Matt Cady, Damien Jalet, Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui, Mecnun Giasar, Megan Lawson, and Nicolas Huchard.) Now that she’s up to speed, she takes full advantage of immersing herself in new cultures on tour. “I love to go to fitness studios, and I’ve been taking classes in different languages,” she says. “I’m also very interested in body language, so it’s been fascinating to sit in coffee shops and learn from the people in front of me.”

More than clothes: Love documents her funky, fun personal style on social media, and she’s found comfort in using fashion as another mode of expressing herself. She’s interested in eventually bringing some of that sensibility into costume design.

Growing and trusting: “Dance has saved me many times, gotten me through many heartbreaks,” says Love. “I’m now finding my voice more. I know I have things to offer, and I find that they’re being received. I’m trusting that even though I may not always feel like I fit in, I know that I belong.”

The post Meet Mattie Love, Performer With Madonna’s The Celebration Tour appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Theodore has been dancing with A.I.M ever since, bringing groundedness, fluidity, spontaneity, and precision. She’s also a presence elsewhere in the New York City dance world, teaching beginner house at Ailey Extension and deeply immersed in the house scene. Such a full plate might sound overwhelming, but it’s by design. “Dance brings me joy, so much so that it can be hard to decide which path I want to go down,” Theodore says. “But the one thing I know is that I want to continue to find newness in as many aspects of this art form as possible.”

New York or Nowhere

“There is no place like NYC. I love the street style scene—it’s so raw and beautiful. I attend many dance battles, including Battle 101, which is run by my friend Huu Rock. It’s a beginner battle, so you’re able to watch dancers grow over the years as they continue to participate, which is really inspiring. Battle events are a total party. Everyone’s dancing between each round, and the love of dance is palpable.”

A Eureka Moment

“In 2020, Kyle [Abraham] set the solo ‘Little Girl Blue’ on me, part of the full-length work If We Were a Love Song. It was one of my favorite moments. I loved performing something so true to Kyle’s art form, but also so true to me. I was able to find my voice and portray very real emotion. The process allowed me to investigate the role and figure out what I wanted people to feel while I was dancing.”

Student and Teacher

“When I’m teaching, I often say that I don’t feel ready to teach just yet—I feel like I’m still at the beginning of my dance career! I began teaching because I’m really passionate about house dance and teaching helps expand on that. I often teach for A.I.M, too. I learn so much about the dancers through teaching. I just love dance so much, so to transmit my love in this educational way is both challenging and fulfilling.”

The post A.I.M Dancer and House Teacher Gianna Theodore is Letting Joy Lead the Way appeared first on Dance Magazine.

The Backstory

First things first. Harrell grew up in Douglas, Georgia; his family was part of a Southern, land-owning Black elite—educated and well-established for generations despite segregation and its discontents. The Harrells have a singular sense of history. Harrell explains that his godmother named him Trajal after the Roman emperor Trajan, and his father chose Aurelius as his middle name after the Roman emperor Marcus Aurelius. “It was funny being born in Southeast Georgia with this Roman namesake heritage!” Harrell says. 

In his youth Harrell was a gymnast and an avid learner, excelling in school and participating in “history day” competitions, a staple in many secondary school districts nationwide. He remem­bers that he “was kinda the leader—writing, directing, and performing with a group of other students. We won group performance statewide for six years. Clearly, this making performances based on history is still with me.”

At Yale University he majored in American Studies with a concentration in creative processes, thinking he would focus on theater and acting. However, once introduced to the embodied stagecraft of director Anne Bogart and Mary Overlie’s “Six Viewpoints” system of movement research, he felt “it was like coming home, coming back to my body,” and he claims that he “didn’t want to speak onstage anymore. I started making movement-based work.” Around this time a friend said that perhaps he was trying to be a choreographer.

After graduating, he gravitated toward dance and moved to New York City, having also touched down on the West Coast for a short stint in San Francisco. He studied briefly at the Martha Graham School and took composition workshops “with Trisha Brown, herself, and with Yvonne Rainer, herself,” he says. He also found his way to Harlem’s voguing balls and the runway culture of the city’s fashion district—and, later, to butoh, which he studied in Tokyo.

The Inspirations

Harrell cites history as “a way to enliven the imagination.” His repertory is full of historical “what ifs,” beginning with the now-legendary Twenty Looks or Paris is Burning at The Judson Church. Between 2009 and 2017, this project was staged numerous­ times in, as he describes it, “various sizes,” nationally and abroad. His witty historical proposition explains­ the long title: What if the largely Black, queer voguing community—brought to mainstream attention by the 1990 film Paris Is Burning—came “downtown” and brought its expressive, glamorous, “over-the-top” genre to Judson Church, Greenwich Village’s temple of minimalist dance?

Many of Harrell’s evening-length works create spaces for different eras and philosophies to converge. Take, for example, these excerpts from the program note for The Romeo, which premiered in 2023:

Picture a dance. Let’s call it the “Romeo,” after Shakespeare’s young lover who, in ignited enthusiasm, believed he could conquer death…. [I]magine this dance that people of all origins, genders, and generations, of all temperaments and moods, dance when they face their tragedies and only dance. 

A Harrell dance named after a Shakespearean character will not restate that famous play. Instead, his aesthetic foundations and his personal conceptual scaffolding foreground choreography that is imaginatively wide-ranging, transcultural, intersectional, and futuristic.

Consider the artists Harrell cites as influences. “Sigmar Polke, the visual artist, blew my mind,” Harrell says. “The writer, theorist, and filmmaker Trinh Minh-ha changed my life. I have been inspired by the architecture of Tadao Ando.” Polke produced paintings focused on historical events and perceptions; Minh-ha theorized postcoloniality and feminism; Ando’s architecture reflects Japanese spirituality and Zen-like simplicity. Similar elements can be found in the themes, stage design, costumes, visual richness, and overall “architecture” of Harrell’s creations.

The Movement 

Although his work has evolved since its beginnings, Harrell’s movement vocabulary engages two central motifs. There’s the walking—dancing—on relevé, as though wearing stiletto high heels, while leaning, tilting, sliding, turning, sometimes teetering, yet remaining upright. It’s a challenging balancing act, and his dancers excel in creating character nuances within this limitation. A kick-up-your-heels, dance-till-you-drop, bacchanal “folk” dance is another leitmotif. These modes persist in works as different as Twenty Looks and the recent Monkey off My Back or the Cat’s Meow (2021). 

In Harrell’s universe, nothing is rushed, regardless of rhythm or tempo. Each work takes its time. The present moment­ is his friend, and he invites us to languish and breathe in the heady spaciousness of his vision. He shows a visual artist’s sense of stagecraft, props, and costuming. The floor design in Monkey off My Back… is a stunning rectangular grid of Mondrian-like colored blocks spanning the length of the performance space, with white platform modules set in sofa-like shapes at the center. The audience is seated lengthwise both sides. This longitudinal stretch is used as a catwalk, a dance floor, a showplace. 

Harrell’s self-created pop/rock/new music choices speak tropes of love, loss, tumult, and even trance. These elements add up to a repertory of elegance, passion, and compassion, with the dancers delineating their personal constellations in Harrell’s galaxy, in what he says is “a sharing of style, not a mimicry of my movement.” The ensemble is keenly adept at inhabiting this style while adroitly making it their own. The results are exquisitely poignant embodied portraits, including the characters elicited in his sensational Köln Concert, choreographed in 2020, during the pandemic—the first work made in his role as director of the Schauspielhaus Zürich Dance Ensemble. Other portraits, as in the poetically zany Caen Amour, explode with the wily wit and arch humor that Harrell uses to restore popular entertainment varieties to contemporary theater, as it had in ancient Greek and Shakespearean times.

Explaining that he isn’t “the kind of choreographer who can sit back and watch the picture,” Harrell generally dances in his creations. “It must go through my body,” he says. “The choreographer in me has ideas, but I don’t believe in them until the dancer in me signs the contract.”

A tradition that reflects Harrell’s respect for the audience begins before the performance itself. He sometimes stands onstage to greet the audience, who might find him watching with detached though friendly interest as they enter. This reminds us that we are about to see a presentation—that he and his dancers are real people, that performance is mindful artifice. He is intentional with this because, he declares, “I’m in love with my audience. I don’t discriminate. I just love them all, that’s the only way. I usually can’t wait for the opening night: standing onstage, watching them enter. I love that. I love them.”

The Next Steps 

Later in 2024, Harrell will conclude his successful tenure as director of the Schauspielhaus Zürich Dance Ensemble. In his five years there he created six major works and trained a sterling cadre of ensemble artists. He contemplates his next steps, musing that Zürich “is where I’ll change to the next period of my work: After runway/early-postmodern dance was the first phase, and then butoh/modern dance, now the third phase is coming.” In addition to continuing to develop his company, it may well involve visual arts and opera work. 

Fasten your seatbelts for the takeoff, dance lovers!

Butoh Mind

Trajal Harrell is deeply stirred by butoh. “My big inspirations now are Kazuo Ohno and Tatsumi Hijikata,” he says. With these forceful influences, a title is more than a name, and a dance event is a special meeting place unlike any other. It is a moment of what Harrell calls “butoh mind.” “Butoh mind is invigorating—where you show the things about yourself that aren’t beautiful,” Harrell says. “When you allow yourself to dance from that place where you can never be perfect, something else happens. People feel that. People recognize it. They know it’s inside them. That becomes beauty!”

In 2013 he first visited Tokyo to study butoh in its birthplace. “I am looking at butoh through the theoretical lens of voguing and voguing through the theoretical lens of butoh,” he says. The result is a deft interfacing of voguing’s glorious pageantry and elaborate flourishes with the guttural, visceral passion of butoh, widening the lens on both genres and creating a captivating hybrid. 

What the Dancers Say

Ondrej Vidlar and Thibault Lac began working with Trajal Harrell in 2010. Early on the three dancers worked in duos or trios, “touring from one gig to the other with costumes and set in a suitcase,” Lac says, describing this period as “a process of unlearning, in a way, an emancipation from certain tastes and values about dance learned in school.” 

Vidlar enjoys working with the mosaic of performers Harrell brings together, and is grateful that Harrell grants them “the freedom to express his ideas through their own understanding.” He and Lac have a “like family” relationship with Harrell, having developed professionally in and through his artistic vision. 

Nasheeka Nedsreal has worked with Harrell since 2018, in Maggie the Cat (2019), Monkey off My Back or the Cat’s Meow (2021), Deathbed (2022), and The Romeo (2023). She cites her admiration of the choreographer’s “subtlety and the delicateness and precision of his approach. Even though we work in the conceptual, there’s deep emotional expression that’s often required, and I appreciate that.” 

As an African American woman who, like Harrell, grew up in the American South, Nedsreal sees similarities in their aesthetic processes. “Though I’m not sure where this lust of ours for freedom and improvisation comes from,” she says, “I’m certain there are links to the music of the South, jazz and blues, as well as from the traditions of the church and Black families.” She concludes, wisely: “You can take us out of the South, but you can’t take the South out of us!”

The post Enlivening the Imagination: Trajal Harrell’s Rich Repertoire of Transcultural, Intersectional, and Futuristic Works appeared first on Dance Magazine.

But the art that I loved didn’t dependably love me back. As I got older, it was impossible to ignore that my Blackness quietly dictated what others in positions of control—teachers, friends, parents of dancers—believed I was capable of. That prejudice became more and more central to my relationship with dance and threatened to eclipse the joy it brought to me.

Nonetheless, I persevered. I applied and was accepted to the SUNY Purchase Conservatory of Dance. I was almost immediately grounded with a serious knee injury that kept me from dancing for my first semester. It was an unexpected blessing: Because I could not dance, I spent hours in the dance library. I suddenly had the capacity to read and watch the history of modern dance unfold. As I was introduced to the art’s most important names, a determination gripped me. I emerged from my recovery with a clearer understanding of contemporary dance as a uniquely American art form, no less than jazz or rock and roll. The Americanness of modern dance inspired a surprising patriotism within me and a drive to add my own contributions to a legacy I had been previously told wasn’t mine to share.

The realization of modern dance as cultural birthright, not just pure entertainment, gave me permission to bring my full self to the art. My Blackness, my womanness, my muchness (even my too muchness!) all came out as an expression of freedom that has expanded my artistry. As I have transitioned to the front of the room, this epiphany has helped me empower my dancers to bring their cultures and full selves to bear inside the space. Twenty-five years of experience have changed what dancing feels like for me. Now, when I dance, I am whole. I feel expansive. I am joyful and I feel proud.

Dance is power personified. My hope is that the next generation of dancers can start where I’ve arrived: knowing that our art form gives us the tools we need to acknowledge we are important and we belong.

The post Tiffany Rea-Fisher, Artistic Director of EMERGE125, on How She Grew to Embrace Modern Dance—and Herself as a Black Woman appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Now in his 13th season with Houston Ballet, Watters, who was promoted to first soloist in 2021, has found himself in a position to help create a sense of belonging for others. He started a video series, “The Pre-Show,” in 2015. “I was starting to peel back the curtain on what it was to be a classical ballet dancer, and I was breaking the mold and shifting peoples’ perceptions of what a classical ballet dancer looks like, who they love, how they act, what interests them,” he says. That sometimes called for dancing in sky-high heels on a treadmill, and other times shining a light on the work of Black, queer dancers Watters has been inspired by. “If I authentically share the work that I’m putting into the roles I’m dancing, and the dancers who inspire me, and the things that I love, then my hope is that maybe that inspires others to advocate for themselves or other people who need it.”

The Initial Spark

“My love of dance actually started from watching the Olympics and seeing Dominique Dawes on the balance beam. And then one of the first gifts my parents got me was the New York City Ballet production of The Nutcracker with Macaulay Culkin on VHS. That inspired me to put on little shows in my living room, and the curiosity about dance and what it was led me to taking classes.”

An Eye-Opening Moment

“My dad was an English professor at the University of New Hampshire, and we would go see the touring companies that performed there. When the Alvin Ailey second company came, that was a big moment for me because I had loved dance, I had obsessed over dance, but I had never seen anybody the way that I looked dance. It felt natural to say, ‘Oh, I have to be a modern dancer, and that’s where I’m supposed to be,’ but I think that is somewhat limiting. The second that I came to Houston in 2009, that’s when classical ballet felt attainable, because I felt like I had one foot in the door.”

A Memorable Part

“I had never really thought I was a prince or embodied what a prince was, so the journey of dancing my first Prince in Stanton Welch’s The Nutcracker was a big moment for me. It’s also a great opportunity to lead a ballet, and I was promoted to demi-soloist during that time.”

A Dream Role

“Roles like Romeo that are of the human experience and you’re dealing with loss and telling a story, they were quite intimidating to me. But having danced in and kind of touched on roles that are very character-driven recently, I’d love to dance Romeo in Romeo & Juliet.”

A Piece of History:

“Every time I revisit Stanton Welch’s Clear, I discover new things. I’ve danced it with dear friends like Chun Wai [Chan], and now I’ve danced it with Naazir [Muhammad] and Eric Best in New York. With Julie [Kent], who originated the role, now being our co-director, it’s really special to have her in the studio working with us.”

His Pre-Performance Routine:

“I used to be someone, because of my age, where I could sort of walk into the show and just hit it. But over the past few years, I really need to get my body ready for what it’s about to do, and Pilates has been a big part of my routine. I like to do it in the morning, and if we have shows, I’ll go in about two hours before and do my Pilates warm up to really set my body up.”

The post How First Soloist Harper Watters Creates Community at Houston Ballet appeared first on Dance Magazine.

My dance journey has been inspired by countless performances and artists, each providing a unique perspective. But all roads, no matter how beautiful, are fraught with challenges, and I faced two great ones throughout my career. The first was my recovery from a torn ACL during a performance—an ordeal that challenged me physically and mentally long after my surgery and rehab. The support of fellow dancers was my beacon through uncertainty as I worked my way back to the stage. The second test came with the onset of COVID-19. Virtual classes, masked rehearsals, and an uncertain future gripped the dance world, yet my commitment remained unshaken. I took the initiative to create, connect, and share my knowledge through choreography, video projects, and unconventional collaborations, keeping myself immersed in movement in any way that I could.

Personal obstacles have also marked my dance path. Growing up in poverty, enduring bullying for being a male ballet dancer, and navigating identity complexities within the dance world presented daunting hurdles. Yet, these challenges forged my commitment to self-discovery and advocacy for my art. I continue to draw inspiration from others. Sorella Englund’s mentorship accelerated my growth. More recently, I have been moved by the magical storytelling of Johan Inger’s Carmen.

Stepping onto the stage brings me an unparalleled sense of calm. It’s where I breathe, shine through roles, and connect with the energy of an audience. Every choreographer brings a unique approach, but the stage remains where my love for dance is rekindled. In the studio, my work has evolved, especially as a father of two boys. It’s my sanctuary for wholeheartedly perfecting my craft.

In moments of exhaustion, my loving family, energetic kids, and close friends remind me of life’s joys beyond dance. Over time, my relationship with dance has deepened. I’ve embraced the transformative power of movement and its impact on others. Even on the toughest days, I find strength to face self-doubts and cheer myself on onstage. Sharing extraordinary ballets with fellow artists and acknowledging the passage of time has led me to appreciate the choices in my dance career.

Being a dancer has defined my life profoundly. It’s taught me the power of inspiring others through authentic narratives. It’s molded me into the person I am today, allowing me to overcome adversity, experience the full spectrum of emotions, and ultimately thrive. Dance has granted me the opportunity to explore, understand, and shape a rich tapestry of human experiences, for which I am eternally grateful.

The post Boston Ballet Principal John Lam Shares the Challenges He’s Overcome in His 20-Year Career appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Natalio has joined the teams of operas and immersive productions, choreographed the hit Pyer Moss Couture fashion show in 2021, and led the movement vision of multiple new musicals. Following her 2022 role as associate choreographer on Broadway’s for colored girls who have considered suicide / when the rainbow is enuf, this month her own choreography hits Broadway in How to Dance in Ohio, a story of seven autistic young adults preparing for a spring formal.

For Natalio to effectively work with different types of artists—from professional dancers to actors with little to no movement experience—she’s had to fine-tune her communication skills and develop a clear way to make everyone feel safe to explore.

I always want to make the company feel like I’m one of them, that we are peers, and that I’m learning from them just as much as they’re learning from me. Even though I may be the one in the front of the room, their voices are just as important as mine. I want them to feel comfortable honestly expressing what feels good and what doesn’t. That doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll change something every time there’s an opinion about it, but I might be able to teach it differently or make a modification.

When I’m initially generating new material, there’s room to make mistakes and for things to be muddy. But when it’s time to teach choreography to a new group of people in a rehearsal process, I need to come in with clarity. My tendency is to move quickly, but the key is to slow down, teach steps in small chunks, and have patience while going over it multiple times.

I pride myself on pushing people to step out of their comfort zones and do things they wouldn’t normally do. But for that to happen, they have to feel safe and not judged. I try to avoid comparing performers to one another or singling people out to demonstrate, because that can lead to unnecessary self-consciousness or even stunt someone’s personal breakthrough.

Working with actors has definitely made me a better storyteller. Actors need a reason. If they’re invested in their character, they need to know why they’re doing something. So it creates a beautiful opportunity for me to lean into that and not just teach steps, but teach the intention behind them. If I can tie the choreography to the story or to a particular emotion, it helps the actors find texture and dynamics in their movement.

I can tell when things are landing, when things are not, when I’m losing people. I can tell when we need to go over a step again, and I can also tell when something is becoming stale and we need to switch gears. I try to learn how each person receives notes and adjustments most successfully—one artist welcomes a lot of notes, I might need to whisper them to another, and someone else might get overwhelmed quickly and I recognize when they’re at capacity.

I like rigor, I like hard work. I like to drill and push and make people sweat, that’s all good. But it’s important to pair that with humor and levity. We can’t always be too serious!

In all genres, you’re going to get great performances when the people onstage are proud of what they’re doing. As the choreographer, sometimes I need to sacrifice a move I thought was fierce in order to be more mindful of what the performer is actually best at. It’s a collaboration.

The post How Choreographer Mayte Natalio Tailors Her Approach to the Artists in the Room With Her appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Company: American Ballet Theatre

Age: 25

Hometown: Cincinnati, Ohio

Training: With his parents, former professional ballet dancers Meridith Benson and Mario de la Nuez, at their Cincinnati studio, de la Dance Center

Accolades: 2018 Grand Prix winner, Youth America Grand Prix Pittsburgh semifinals

Late starter: De la Nuez was initially into activities like skateboarding, gymnastics, diving, and soccer and didn’t start dancing until he was almost 15. But once he did, he took to it with great intensity. “My parents didn’t force me, they let me find it for myself. And because of that, I found the drive,” he says. “I was really eager to improve and take corrections, and I still am. That’s the superpower of starting late.”

All in the family: “The studio was in our house,” says de la Nuez. “Right after school, and all weekend, sometimes until 10 o’clock at night, I was there dancing and watching YouTube videos and trying to imitate what I saw.My parents really molded the training around me, and made it such a comfortable environment for me to work.”

Ballet idol: De la Nuez’s father fostered his son’s admiration of the Cuban-born dancer Carlos Acosta. “His dancing is masculine but sensitive, and so sincere, and his partnering is beautiful,” de la Nuez says. Acosta’s memoir, No Way Home, is his favorite book, and Cuba, the birthplace of his father, is the place he most dreams of visiting.

Discipline and abandon: “Onstage he’s willing to go far and beyond,” says Carlos Lopez, the director of repertoire at ABT that de la Nuez has worked with the most. “He has that fearlessness and freedom, and he’s also technically very strong.” But Lopez also sees his discipline and drive. “He is very internal in terms of the work. You can see he really fights for perfection.”

Challenges: De la Nuez was born with a cleft palate, which means that the roof of his mouth was not fully formed before birth. This affected his ability to breathe and eat normally, and he’s had several surgeries, the last of which took place in November. “This will help a lot with my breathing when I’m onstage, because now I have to breathe mainly through my mouth,” he said before the surgery. As a kid, he was bullied for his condition, but he says it also helped to form his personality. “It made me figure out how to be social. It’s easy for me to be super-friendly and funny with people.” Lopez agrees: “Everyone loves Mikey, because he’s such a nice guy.”

A dedicated follower of fashion: Outside of the studio, de la Nuez has a passion for fashion. “I like to wear clothes that are a little bit more original, and I spend a lot of time researching­ on YouTube and Instagram,”­ he says. His favorite designer­ at the moment is Rick Owens.

The full package: “I really believe in his potential,” says Lopez. “He’s a bravura dancer. He can do all the technical roles, like Basilio in Don Q, but at the same time, he can be a prince. Honestly, I think he can do anything.”

The post Introducing American Ballet Theatre’s Michael de la Nuez appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Clarissa Rivera Dyas

Freelance dancer and choreographer

Clarissa Rivera Dyas thrives most in collaboration with other artists, and layers different art forms with sophistication. She created Something Remains, her 2022 evening-length choreographic debut, with visual artist and composer Jakob Pek. In it, Dyas and her three dancers pushed the boundaries of physicality as they danced with long rolls of paper and paint, serving as both brushes and canvas. Her dynamic movement, which defied predictability as it showcased both strength and vulnerability, served as the perfect counterpoint to Pek’s experimental score.

Dyas, a sought-after performer for artists like Robert Moses, prioritizes disrupting norms, challenging expectations, and embracing the raw, vulnerable, and even sloppy in her work. “How can we involve the idea of failure?” she asks. “As a Black queer artist, there is little room for failure. How can we allow for failure?”

In 2021, after recurring experiences of being tokenized in the largely white-led Bay Area dance scene, she co-founded the nonhierarchical artist collective RUPTURE alongside fellow queer Black artists jose e. abad, Stephanie Hewett, Gabriele Christian, and Styles Alexander. “It’s about being in process with collective rest, play, and somatic experimentation as resistance,” she says, “challenging what it means to be in dance and performance.” A RUPTURE event might include dance, live sound design, spoken word, visual art, multimedia elements, community engagement, improvisation, and play. In June, the cohort will present a new work at San Francisco’s Fort Mason Center for Arts & Culture.

—Rachel Caldwell

Danielle Swatzie

Freelance dancer, choreographer, and filmmaker

If any contemporary dance artist captures the spirit of Atlanta’s up-and-coming generation, it’s Danielle Swatzie. Take her solo The Fleeting Serenade. In the section set to Ella Fitzgerald’s rendition of the jazz standard “Angel Eyes,” Swatzie whirls across the stage, her legs slicing arcs, arms gesturing in staccato bursts as she embodies the emotional turmoil churning beneath the song’s smooth surface.

A graduate of Philadelphia’s University of the Arts, Swatzie is equally compelling in front of or behind a camera. She creates an aura of honesty, thoughtfulness, and fearless compassion combined with a drive to unpack­ inner emotional landscapes. Her dance films, which illuminate a vision of a more equitable world, have been garnering increasing attention. META, a solo reflecting on family, generational trauma, and feminine empowerment, received the 2021 BronzeLens Film Festival Award for Best Music/Dance Video. Her growing roots through concrete was selected for American Dance Festival’s 2023 Movies By Movers festival. The film features seven young women artists, Black and white, who join together in precarious group counterbalances to confront individual experiences with racism and find wholeness as a community—as Swatzie says, through “radical connection and radical love to manifest radical change.”

—Cynthia Bond Perry

Grace Rookstool

Soloist, Pittsburgh Ballet Theatre

Last season, Pittsburgh Ballet Theatre’s statuesque Grace Rookstool made a pair of major debuts. The then–corps-member embodied emotional resilience as Mina in Michael Pink’s Dracula and showed off her commanding stage presence and technical prowess as Aurora in The Sleeping Beauty. She dances with an assuredness that artistic director Adam McKinney says got her promoted to the rank of soloist for this season. “She is a consummate professional, a classicist, and has a natural sensibility to embody music,” he says of the 23-year-old.

Born and raised on Whidbey Island, Washington, Rookstool trained at Pacific Northwest Ballet School and in its Professional Division Program. While there, she was selected for an exchange program with Dresden Semperoper Ballett and danced in its production of La Bayadère. She joined PBT’s corps de ballet in 2019.

A truly versatile dancer, Rookstool says she most enjoys high-flying jumps. Expect her career to soar in 2024.

—Steve Sucato

Erina Ueda

Dancer, Giordano Dance Chicago

Erina Ueda’s breakout moment with Giordano Dance Chicago came last April in Kia Smith’s Luminescence. With a cast of 22 dancers filling the cavernous Harris Theater, the piece starts and ends with Ueda completely alone, in a solo showcasing her unbridled facility and unflappable joy. Giordano’s dancers are known for their silky jazz technique balanced with razor-sharp precision. Ueda has that and more, bringing honesty and authenticity to the company’s rep. 

Ueda earned a BFA in dance with a minor in psychology from the University of Arizona, not too far from her hometown of Chandler, Arizona. Born in Japan, she was the first Asian woman to join the 60-year-old Giordano company. She’s upped its digital game, too, as the company’s social media manager and video content producer since her arrival in 2022.

—Lauren Warnecke

Donovan Reed

Dancer, A.I.M by Kyle Abraham

Nature metaphors spring to mind as you watch A.I.M by Kyle Abraham’s Donovan Reed. They seem driven by wind, buoyed by water, licked by fire. They might stop a liquid phrase cold with a thorny angle—not breaking the spider’s thread of movement, but rather snapping it taut. They can make the unlikeliest shapes look organic. (Though these qualities never feel less than authentic to Reed, they are very Abraham-esque: Reed, who’s danced with A.I.M since 2018, can channel the choreographer with uncanny precision.)

But Reed is an unmistakably human performer, too. In Abraham’s MotorRover—a duet that responds to Merce Cunningham’s 1972 work Landrover—they temper Cunningham’s signature formality with playfulness and wit, carrying on a danced conversation with partner Jamaal Bowman that seems full of little inside jokes. Reed’s a force of nature with a soul.

—Margaret Fuhrer

Kaitlyn Sardin

Irish and hip-hop dancer

You might know her as @kaitrock: the artist whose one-of-a-kind, Irish-dance-meets-hip-hop mashups have earned her an avid following on Instagram and beyond. While traditional Irish dance, with its strict verticality, might seem at odds with more full-bodied and grounded ways of moving, Kaitlyn Sardin finds their common thread: rhythm. Through drumming feet, swiping arms, or swiveling knees, she can tease out the intricacies of whatever sound is fueling her. (Beyoncé, Tinashe, and Victoria Monét are a few current favorites.) In every aspect of her short-form solos—including her colorful fashion choices—she is unabashedly herself.

A former competitive Irish dancer with a foundation of razor-sharp technique (she grew up training at the Watters School in Orlando), Sardin broadened her dance horizons as a student at Hofstra University, where she began adding forms like dancehall and vogue to her vocabulary. She has toured with the Chicago-based Trinity Irish Dance Company and is gearing up for new projects in 2024. From February 14–March 3, you can find her performing in Jean Butler’s What We Hold at the Irish Arts Center in Manhattan. 

Being Black and queer in the mostly white, sometimes culturally conservative world of Irish dance, she’s aware that younger dancers who break with convention might see themselves in her. Her advice for them? “Just go for it. Don’t be afraid, and the world will embrace you.”

—Siobhan Burke

Jake Roxander

Corps member, American Ballet Theatre

Watching Jake Roxander as Mercutio in Romeo and Juliet last July, it was hard to believe that he was making his Metropolitan Opera House debut in the role. Without a trace of nerves, the 21-year-old American Ballet Theatre corps member fully inhabited the character—cocky, loveable, magnetic, with flashes of hot-tempered recklessness. Then there was his dancing: Each solo was thrillingly virtuosic and highly musical, with pirouettes that paused momentarily on relevé—just enough time for him to give an impish grin before he was on to the next feat. 

Roxander comes from a family of dancers; he and his brother Ashton, a principal with Philadelphia Ballet, were trained by parents David and Elyse Roxander at their studio in Medford, Oregon. He spent a season with Philadelphia Ballet’s second company before joining ABT’s Studio Company in 2020, where he stood out in Balanchine’s Stars and Stripes and a duet from Twyla Tharp’s Known by Heart.

ABT has wasted no time pushing Roxander to the forefront since he joined the main company in 2022. This fall he danced principal roles in Harald Lander’s Études and Alexei Ratmansky’s Piano Concerto No. 1, and debuted in the role of Puck in Sir Frederick Ashton’s The Dream. With his powerful, unforced technique and boy-next-door charm, he is making a name for himself, and fast. 

—Amy Brandt

Jindallae Bernard

Choreographer, filmmaker, and corps member, Houston Ballet

Jindallae Bernard’s portrayal of the jealous Lady Rokujo in Nao Kusuzaki’s Genji, an Asia Society Texas Center commission, exuded chilly charm and understated, seductive sensuality. Her quiet authority and stoic elegance also served her well in Stanton Welch’s neoclassical Tu Tu at Houston Ballet, though she proved equally capable of turning up the voltage in Balanchine’s Stars and Stripes. And her talents extend to choreography and filmmaking, too.

Bernard joined Houston Ballet’s corps in 2022. She’s been with the organization since she was 6 years old, rising through the Academy and Houston Ballet II before landing an apprenticeship in 2021. During her training, she took on several choreographic opportunities. Her whimsical short dance film Phase, created in 2020 during a virtual summer program composition class, so caught the eye of artistic director Stanton Welch that the company showcased it during its first live performance after the pandemic pause. “Her work feels so high-end, from the story to her use of color and light, and her directorial insight,” says Welch. He selected her to premiere a new ballet in December for the company’s annual Jubilee of Dance, for which she created Parodie de l’histoire du ballet. Says Bernard: “My goal is to contribute in as many ways as I can.”

—Nancy Wozny

Kia Smith

Executive artistic director, South Chicago Dance Theatre

Last year’s premiere of Memoirs of Jazz in the Alley proved a perfect showcase for choreographer and director Kia Smith. The evening-length “dance opera” exemplified her choreographic voice—note-by-note precision, fluid torso movement, unexpected gesture, powerful unison—and marked the debut of her 7-year-old company, South Chicago Dance Theatre, at the Auditorium Theatre, its largest venue to date. The work paid homage to Smith’s childhood experiences at her musician father’s weekly Jazz in the Alley gatherings. That background surfaces in the way her dances feel born out of the detail and nuance of jazz music.

Smith’s success lies not only in her artistic acumen but also in the way she considers dance and the business of it on a large scale. The Chicago native is both artistic and executive director of SCDT, which has expanded its presence at home through the South Chicago Dance Festival and abroad with its Choreographic Diplomacy international exchange program. Amidst a growing list of outside commissions—notably including the rousing Luminescence for Giordano Dance Chicago’s 60th anniversary last spring—this year Smith will bring her company on tour to Seoul, South Korea, and return to the Auditorium Theatre with another world premiere.

—Maureen Janson

Hohyun Kang

Sujet, Paris Opéra Ballet

A morbid teenager involved in a murder-suicide isn’t exactly an easy first major role. Yet from the moment South Korea’s Hohyun Kang, who joined Paris Opéra Ballet in 2018, stepped out as Mary Vetsera in Mayerling last season, she found logic and purpose in Sir Kenneth MacMillan’s choreography. As she draped herself around Paul Marque, her Prince Rudolf, her lines sizzled with dramatic tension.

It was an arresting breakthrough for the 28-year-old, who had been on balletomanes’ radar for her easy, radiant musicality and technique in ballets such as Balanchine’s Concerto Barocco. A graduate of Korea National University of Arts, she was noticed by William Forsythe shortly after joining POB and landed a soloist role in his Blake Works I, before quietly making her way up the ranks and becoming a sujet (soloist) last season. She is already slated for a Kitri debut in April—and may well follow in the footsteps of Paris’ first South Korean étoile, Sae Eun Park.

—Laura Cappelle

Karla Puno Garcia

Musical theater choreographer

When last year’s Tony Awards had to go without a script and instead lean on dance to set the scene, host Ariana DeBose knew just the choreographer who could pull it off: Karla Puno Garcia. The resulting opening number brought viewers on a danced journey through the United Palace theater, using Garcia’s spunky, sassy movement to amp up excitement for the night. Later, Garcia’s unapologetically feminine flair and super-satisfying musicality showcased DeBose and Julianne Hough in a duet that felt both timely and timeless.

Garcia was the first woman of color to choreograph the Tonys. But it’s far from her only brush with the event. A Broadway vet who’s been dancing on the Great White Way since her college days at New York University, she previously performed with the casts of Gigi and Hamilton at the Tonys and was a dancer and associate choreographer in 2021 when Sergio Trujillo choreographed the opening number. Soon, she may even be up for a Tony herself: She’s making her Broadway choreographic debut this January with Days of Wine and Roses, which she co-choreographed with Trujillo.

For his part, Trujillo thinks she’s “unstoppable” as a choreographer: “Karla’s like a musician that can play all the instruments with her feet and arms and body,” he says. “She comes across as incredibly gentle, but she’s a force to be reckoned with.”

—Jennifer Heimlich

Kuu Sakuragi

Soloist, Pacific Northwest Ballet

With a raw physicality matched with bighearted sensitivity, Kuu Sakuragi is quickly heading toward rockstar status at Pacific Northwest Ballet. He creates electrifying spectacles onstage, delivering one jaw-dropping performance after another. His big technical jumps look as if he’s floating on air, an impression only heightened by his gravity-defying turnin David Parsons’ Caught, while his warmth and humility come through as deference to the other dancers onstage, as in Alexei Ratmansky’s Wartime Elegy. A PNB DanceChance student and Professional Division graduate, Sakuragi joined the corps in 2020 after dancing with Alberta Ballet for three years and was promoted to soloist in November. “Certain dancers live more completely in the moment when they’re dancing,” artistic director Peter Boal says. “Nureyev, Wendy Whelan, Carla Körbes come to mind. Kuu is one of them.” 

—Gigi Berardi

Sydnie L. Mosley 

Founding executive and artistic director, SLMDances 

In the spring and summer of 2020, conversations about racial equity and social justice erupted across the dance field. How could exclusionary systems be transformed? How could imbalances of power be corrected? How could people better care for one another?

For the choreographer, performer, educator, and writer Sydnie L. Mosley, these questions were nothing new. The Baltimore-born Mosley has been envisioning a future free from oppression—with dance as one way to get there—at least since 2010, when she founded her Harlem-based collective SLMDances. For people just beginning on that journey, she and her collaborators became a guiding light.

A self-described “creative home for trans, cis, nonbinary, queer, disabled, fat, masculine presenting, Black women and femmes of many generations,” SLMDances takes seriously the term “collective,”operating through a model of shared leadership and responsibility. Their community-engaged, joyfully interactive works have tackled issues like street harassment (The Window Sex Project, 2012) and the economics of dance (BodyBusiness, 2015). Their latest, PURPLE: A Ritual in Nine Spells, honors the Black feminist playwright, poet, and dancer Ntozake Shange, whose legacy Mosley extends through her own intertwining of movement and language. Premiering at Lincoln Center last summer, PURPLE marked a turning point for Mosley in its visibility and scale. Her vision persists; what’s changed, perhaps, is the world’s readiness to join her.

—Siobhan Burke

Laila J. Franklin

Independent dance artist

Contradictions power Laila J. Franklin’s charisma. She can shift from sly comedy to earnest sincerity over the course of an eight-count. She moves with disarming frankness, making even complex gestures look straightforward and open; she also seems to keep part of herself closed to the audience, protective of her own mystery.

That sense of unknowable-ness sits right at the center of choreographer Miguel Gutierrez’s I as another, which Gutierrez and Franklin performed in New York City last spring. The intimate, probing duet suggests we can never truly know each other, or even ourselves—but we can try. In I as another, Franklin showed a kind of virtuosic empathy, living fully inside Gutierrez’s creative vision without erasing herself. Forget walking in someone else’s shoes—she can dance in their feet.

Franklin, who earned a BFA from Boston Conservatory in 2019 and an MFA from the University of Iowa in 2021, is also a choreographer, teaching artist, and writer. Maybe over time we’ll get to know her better through her own work. Maybe she’ll always keep part of herself a mystery. Either way, she’ll be holding our attention.

—Margaret Fuhrer

Lucy Fandel

Independent dancer and choreographer

In the semi-improvised, place-based dance Lucy Fandel creates, the land is something alive, not just a backdrop. “The inhaling clouds, quivering blades of grass, swarms of gnats, or the occasional romping dog pulled us in,” she writes of her and Bailey Eng’s creative explorations during a residency in Spain. In a section of their filmed field notes, Fandel responds viscerally to these movements in the environment while dancing atop a rocky outcropping, at once fluid and angular as she articulates through her hands, rib cage, pelvis. 

A dance artist, writer, and arts outreach worker, Fandel grew up in Concord, Massachusetts, and Beaulieu-sur-Mer, France. “Switching languages forces you to think differently,” she says. She later crossed borders yet again, moving to Montreal to study contemporary dance and sociology at Concordia University. Fandel’s attachment to sociology field work influenced her dance perspective and, today, she’s at the forefront of the burgeoning sustainable eco-dance movement in Canada. She’s right at home engaging with the landscape during her outdoor research (“conversations,” as she calls them), examining the vectors of science and dance while sensitizing people to the natural environment in all its ambiguity and transformation.

—Philip Szporer

Miguel Alejandro Castillo

Choreographer and freelance performing artist

Onstage, Miguel Alejandro Castillo emanates a warmth and wit that creates instant connection. An incredibly committed performance in Faye Driscoll’s whirlwind ensemble work Weathering last April highlighted this generosity. As part of a precarious flesh sculpture that teetered off the edges of a spinning raft, Castillo maintained an active, intense bond with his fellow performers, even as his ponytail swept the ground and it became increasingly unclear whether he was being supported or smothered.

Castillo brings a bright presence and big love into the studio, Driscoll says, alongside an impressive conceptual curiosity. “He’s embracing the full range of human experience,” she says, “connecting the light and the dark.” In his own choreography, the Venezuelan artist, who started in theater, explore­s his native country’s diaspora, blending forms to forge a kind of future folklore.

Castillo recently completed a New York Live Arts Fresh Tracks residency and acted as movement director for the David Lang opera Prisoner of the State. He’ll keep building on that momentum in 2024: In addition to choreographing John Adams’ opera The Gospel According to the Other Mary for Volksoper in Vienna and touring Weathering, Castillo will be a choreographer in residence at both PAGEANT performance space in Brooklyn and Abrons Arts Center in lower Manhattan. 

—Candice Thompson

Naomi Funaki

Tap dancer and choreographer

During the in-person debut of Ayodele Casel’s Chasing Magic, Japanese tap artist Naomi Funaki commanded attention with her clear, confident sounds. She modulated her tones and phrasing to cover a broad emotional spectrum, from contemplative to exuberant, as she floated through a duet, in a role originated by Casel, with joyful ease. “Her technical prowess and rhythmic voice are dynamic and contain so much depth and nuance,” says Casel, who invited Funaki to make her choreographic debut last April during Casel’s Artists at the Center engagement at New York City Center.

Casel is not alone in her sentiments. Funaki was the recipient of a 2023 Princess Grace Award and is an apprentice with Dorrance Dance. She performed in the December premiere of Caleb Teicher’s reworked Bzzz, a tap-meets-beatbox show for which she also served as assistant choreographer, and in January will show off her range in Leonardo Sandoval’s samba-inflected I Didn’t Come to Stay with Music From The Sole.

Ultimately, Funaki’s goal is to bring the spirit and professionalism of the New York City tap community back to Japan. Casel has every faith that she will, and along the way inspire a whole new generation of tap dancers.

—Candice Thompson

Olivia Bell

Corps member, New York City Ballet

Some dancers demand your attention. New York City Ballet’s Olivia Bell politely requests it. But the elegantly understated dancer is no wallflower. A fervent musicality powers her fine-grained technique, giving it a lush, romantic sweep. 

Bell, who only joined New York City Ballet’s corps in May, still has surprises in store. At last summer’s Vail Dance Festival, she danced Balanchine’s Tarantella, a mile-a-minute showstopper that must have been nearly impossible to survive at Vail’s one-and-a-half-mile elevation. Bell handled the challenge with not just polish but sparkle, nailing the work’s witty musical phrasing and showing off the prodigious pirouettes that most of us had previously only seen on her Instagram page. Here’s to more surprises, and soon, on NYCB’s stage. 

—Margaret Fuhrer

Pauline Casiño 

Commercial dancer

Pauline Casiño booked her Broadway debut without an in-person audition. She learned about casting for Once Upon a One More Time, directed and choreographed by Keone and Mari Madrid, after the first round of auditions had already concluded and asked her agent to help find a way in. “I always knew of Keone and Mari,” she says. “As a fellow Filipino, I wanted to be part of something they’re creating.” Even though she had never taken class with the Madrids, let alone worked with them before, she landed the part of Esmeralda through a video submission. Onstage, she brought the ensemble character to life with her unforgettable fluidity, powerful femininity, and magnetic presence.

Casiño, who moved to the Bronx from the Philippines at age 12, grew up thinking dance was extracurricular. While studying chemistry in college, she danced in commercial choreographer Candace Brown’s The Soul Spot and BTS’ Love Yourself: Speak Yourself New Jersey concert, but it wasn’t until she graduated in 2020 that she fully embraced dance as her profession. Since then, she has performed with Anitta and Doja Cat at MTV’s Video Music Awards, as well as choreographed and directed her own dance visual. Only three and a half years into seriously pursuing a dance career, Casiño has already proved she has star quality. 

—Kristi Yeung

Rafael Ramírez

Flamenco dancer and choreographer

With fluid arms, deep, effortless lunges, supple contractions, and rapid, complex footwork, Rafael Ramírez spellbinds. But it is his old soul, which adds sensual vulnerability to his performances, that leaves an indelible impression.

Ramírez’s prowess in both traditional and contemporary flamenco captivates across venues, from Spain’s most prestigious tablaos to international theaters with the companies of famed choreographers such as David Coria and Rafaela Carrasco. He’s also garnered critical recognition: In 2021, he won the highly coveted Desplante Masculino at the International Cante de las Minas Festival and, last year, received the 2023 Best New Artist Award from the prestigious Festival Jerez for his Entorno. He carried that momentum into the 2023 Bienal de Málaga, where he premiered Recelo, a collaborative work with prize-winning dancer Florencia Oz exploring the primal emotion of fear, and into a 10-city U.S. tour of his solo show, Lo Preciso, this past fall. With more performances of Recelo ahead, Ramírez enters 2024 on the road to international recognition.

—Bridgit Lujan

Yuval Cohen

Corps member, Philadelphia Ballet

An elegant carriage and genteel demeanor make Yuval Cohen an ideal storybook prince. But behind that refinement lies impressive power. His explosive, elastic leaps and strong, centered turns had everyone buzzing at last summer’s USA International Ballet Competition in Jackson, Mississippi. The 21-year-old Israeli dancer, a newly promoted Philadelphia Ballet corps member, was the first from his country to medal, taking home the senior bronze.

Cohen’s USA IBC coach was his longtime mentor, Nadya Timofeyeva, with whom he trained at the Jerusalem Ballet School. In 2018, she took him to a competition in Russia, where he won first prize and a spot at the Vaganova Ballet Academy. After becoming the school’s first Israeli graduate in 2021, Cohen joined Moscow’s Bolshoi Ballet. But the pandemic created visa complications, forcing him to return home that summer. 

Cohen joined Philadelphia Ballet II in October 2021 and became a company apprentice the following season. He’s already gained notice in a range of featured roles, including a Stepsister in Cinderella, the Gold variation in The Sleeping Beauty, and Escamillo in Angel Corella’s new production of Carmen, which premiered this fall.

—Amy Brandt

Sean Lew 

Commercial dancer and choreographer

In viral YouTube videos, two seasons of NBC’s “World of Dance,” performances with stars from Janet Jackson to Justin Bieber, and his own hour-long dance film, II, Sean Lew has won over millions of fans with his articulate athleticism, honest storytelling, and undeniable charisma. The 22-year-old is far from new to the industry, but he’s still taking his career in new directions. In 2023, he conquered his biggest fear: battling. “It’s not just if you’re good at dancing, then you can battle,” Lew says. “People live, breathe, and eat battling.” He amped up his fitness training and studied freestyle genres such as house and krumping, and, after a humbling early-round loss at his first battle, he went on to win the Red Bull Dance Your Style Los Angeles regionals in April. He then brought home the national title in May and represented the U.S. at the global competition in November.

Despite his newfound commitment to the competitive freestyle scene, Lew continues to grow his career in other areas. Over the last year, he launched his first fitness and dance intensive, Artist Range, with trainer Karl Flores; was a first-time creative director for Jackson Wang’s Coachella performance; and was a first-time co-producer on a Dermot Kennedy music video. “The beauty and curse of my life,” he says, “is I just want to do everything.”

—Kristi Yeung

Solal Mariotte

Independent choreographer and dancer, Rosas

In EXIT ABOVE — after the tempest, Anne Teresa De Keersmaeker’s typically minimalistic world suddenly seemed looser and brighter. The reason? A new generation of dancers, led by French newcomer Solal Mariotte, who got his start in hip hop. The curly-haired 22-year-old acted as a mercurial leader, shifting easily from floor work to the air, launching himself into arresting dives to the floor.

At 18, looking for a challenge, Mariotte applied to P.A.R.T.S., the school founded by De Keersmaeker in Brussels, where he immersed himself in contemporary dance while co-founding a breaking crew, Above The Blood, on the side. In addition to joining Rosas in 2023, he is also developing projects with his crew and as a choreographer. In January, a new version of his solo Collages/Ravages will premiere at the prestigious Suresnes Cités Danse festival in France. With his influences now cross-pollinating­ in captivating ways, a shape-shifting career beckons.

—Laura Cappelle

Kamala Saara

Dancer, Dance Theatre of Harlem

Midway through William Forsythe’s Blake Works IV last April, Kamala Saara transfixed the audience in a soulful, introspective solo. She stretched her long limbs expansively, pulling every inch out of them before retracting dynamically into the next phrase. She seemed to be lost in a dream, her arms sweeping through an unseen atmospheric viscosity. And while the solo is deeply internal, Saara invited the audience at Dance Theatre of Harlem’s New York City Center season into her world. 

Saara, 21, grew up studying at the Yuri Grigoriev School of Ballet in Los Angeles, spent two summers at the Bolshoi Ballet Intensive in New York City, and at 16 was invited to Moscow to perform at the Bolshoi Ballet Academy’s annual gala. She moved to New York in 2019, training first with Andrei Vassiliev before entering the School of American Ballet. SAB’s focus on speed and lightness, she says, made her more versatile.

Meanwhile, then-DTH artistic director Virginia Johnson had had her eye on Saara since Chyrstyn Fentroy invited her to take company class at age 15. Saara joined DTH in 2020, shining in Stanton Welch’s Orange and Balanchine’s Allegro Brillante. This season, she takes on the principal role in Balanchine’s Raymonda-inspired Pas de Dix, adding a glamorous ballerina part to her repertoire. 

—Amy Brandt

Water Street Dance Milwaukee 

Contemporary dance company

In Milwaukee, ballet is king. But funders, dancers, presenters, and audiences are all sitting up and taking notice of Water Street Dance Milwaukee, giving the city the top-shelf contemporary company it deserves. The company, which rehearses in a suburban Milwaukee enclave, launched just as the pandemic hit, but still managed to build a roster of impeccable dancers, create a dance festival, and form pre-professional programs. The city’s dance community is mobilizing around Water Street’s momentum as the company produces new festivals, outdoor pop-up performances, and shared auditions. It performs all over the Midwest, but directo­r Morgan Williams’ goal is to take Water Street international. He sprinkles up-and-coming choreographers, like Kameron­ N. Saunders, Madison Hicks, Braeden Barnes, and Leandro Glory Damasco, Jr., into the rep alongside his own choreography. At just 33, he is a savvy director and choreographer with support from some of the region’s sharpest dance leaders and a long runway ahead.

—Lauren Warnecke

Header collage photo credits, left to right, top to bottom: Ryoko Konami, courtesy Naomi Funaki; Michelle Reid, courtesy Kia Smith; Todd Rosenberg, courtesy Giordano Dance Chicago; Laura Irion, courtesy Karla Puno Garcia; Rosalie O’Connor, courtesy American Ballet Theatre; Angela Sterling, courtesy Pacific Northwest Ballet; Kat Stiennon, courtesy Water Street Dance Milwaukee; Erin Baiano, courtesy New York City Ballet; Jay Spencer, courtesy Miguel Alejandro Castillo; Isabella Herrera, courtesy Kaitlyn Sardin; Julien Benhamou, courtesy Paris Opéra Ballet; Nir Arieli, courtesy Dance Theatre of Harlem; Steven Pisano, courtesy A.I.M by Kyle Abraham; Lawrence Elizabeth Knox, courtesy Houston Ballet; Alex Harmon/Red Bull Content Pool, courtesy Sean Lew; Robbie Sweeny, courtesy Clarissa Rivera Dyas; Anne Van Aerschot, courtesy Rosas; Bailey Bailey, courtesy Laila J. Franklin; C-Unit Studio, courtesy Pauline Casiño; Anita Buzzy Prentiss, courtesy Pittsburgh Ballet Theatre; Nicole Mitchell Photography, courtesy Danielle Swatzie; Gabriel Asensio, courtesy Rafael Ramírez; Camille Augustyniak, courtesy Lucy Fandel; Arian Molina Soca, courtesy Philadelphia Ballet; Travis Coe, courtesy Sydnie L. Mosley.

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Pam started dancing when she was in fourth grade and “it just stuck,” she says. At Steffi Nossen­ School of Dance in Scarsdale, New York, she “sponged” as much dance knowledge as she could from her teachers. She started with modern and then took on jazz and ballet, with a brief stint in pointe class. “I was a good dancer, not a great dancer. I could only go up [on pointe] on my right foot. It was weird.” While she may not have excelled in the execution of the steps, Pam’s work now borrows from each of these genres expertly.

At Ohio State, she realized she was more interested in making work than trying to fit into someone else’s mold. After college, she moved right to New York City. From then until I was born in 2000, her work went relatively unnoticed. She acknowledges the frustrations of this time in her career, but, in hindsight, she’s extremely grateful for it.

“It allowed me the time to work when no one was watching me,” she says. “That was invaluable. I just did things and I didn’t think. For better or for worse, I had a nice group of friends who helped me. You have to learn to create yourself with those around you.”

I hardly remember a time when her work wasn’t at the forefront of dance conversations. But after I was born, she tells me, was when good things started happening for her.

“You made me a better artist. I felt like I made better work after I was a mother. I realized that it’s not just about me—there are bigger things. Having a child makes you see that fast.”

“This is a good interview,” my mom tells me, laughing—always encouraging my passions and allowing me the space to explore them. She’s always just wanted me to love what I do, as she does. My writing is a reflection of that.

My friends and I, as young artists in New York City, are always picking her brain and asking her how she did it. She tells me that, as an assistant professor at Rutgers University, all of her students constantly ask her the same question.

“There’s no real formula,” she says. “You just have to love it enough that even if nobody ever sees what you make, you’re still happy.”

The post Why My Mom, Pam Tanowitz, Dances appeared first on Dance Magazine.

I call the second room the “performance room.” You have these ballet dancers in these beautiful costumes, embodying perfection, but once you walk around, you realize that there’s something going on—and that’s where you encounter the injured ballerina, and the ballerina smoking in the corner. I hope people feel like they’re walking through a narrative.

Can you discuss your use of white plaster, which is a trademark of yours, and its context within the historically white world of ballet?
I want to put into the world what I don’t see all the time, and that is Black sculptures. For me, there is no color—instead, it’s in the gesture, and the face, and the structure that you see it. And with this exhibition, there is also the added layer that the ballet world is a white, elite, European environment, and Black dancers have to conform and sacrifice to thrive in it.

What are the biggest takeaways you hope visitors will have?
Pay dancers more! Support your local dancers, or your local dance schools. A career in dance requires so much money—a single pair of pointe shoes can cost you $100! I think there needs to be more knowledge around these details. I want people to walk away with a deeper appreciation for dancers and everything that goes into the final product you see onstage.

The post Artist Karon Davis’ New Exhibition Grapples With the Physicality and Grit of Ballet appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Mayara Magri has, indeed, done it—and at her dream company, no less. In 2021, during Magri’s 10th year with The Royal Ballet, director Kevin O’Hare promoted her to the company’s highest rank. But Magri’s work is far from done.

“I used to always say I wanted to be a principal with The Royal Ballet. I wouldn’t think about after that,” Magri says, smiling to herself. As she continues, her hands fill with an energy that reveals her determination and straightforward sincerity: “Now, I really want to establish myself here.” 

For Magri, ballet is an all-encompassing lifestyle. “You can’t just walk into an office and ‘That’s what I am’ for six hours, and then walk away,” she says. She’s all in, with a resoluteness of character she’s had from a young age. 

Now 29, Magri was born in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, to a family with no known dance history. That changed when a school friend suggested dance classes. Magri and her two sisters soon began studying ballet on scholarship at Rio’s Escola de Dança Petite Danse. Without that scholarship, she says, ballet would not have come into her life, as the cost of putting three girls into classes would have been too much for her family. 

By age 12, Magri was practicing full variations on pointe. She explains that in Brazil, it is not uncommon for teachers to challenge their students with complex choreography at an early age. It was also standard for young dancers to perform onstage frequently to nip stage fright in the bud. Magri remembers dancing outside of shopping malls on a dance floor her teacher had laid down. Evidently, it worked: “I am not scared of the stage,” she says. “I actually really love it.”

That early comfort with being onstage, combined with Magri’s inherent pluck, helped develop the attack and solidity that would come to define her dancing. Those qualities also came in handy when she began competing around age 12, eventually leading to her winning turn at the Prix de Lausanne in 2011. After the competition, her teachers encouraged her to train in the U.S., arguing that the country’s schools would be a better fit for her style and Vaganova background. But Magri had her heart set on The Royal Ballet School. 

“I was just obsessed with the Royal Ballet DVDs,” she says, laughing. “Especially the one of La Bayadère with Darcey Bussell as Gamzatti. And YouTube videos—I used to watch them over and over again. I was just like: I want that.” 

O’Hare, who had just begun his first year as director, remembers her arrival in London clearly. While sitting in on the school’s classes and performances, “I remember just being bowled over by her dynamics,” he says. “She really looked like somebody that had the potential to go far within the company.” After a year in the school’s uppermost level, Magri was one of the first academy dancers to receive a contract for the 2012–13 season. 

But the transition to The Royal’s style was not without its challenges. For some time, she felt confused about her teachers’ emphasis on subtle details and lower, rather than up-to-the-ears, legs—a “less is more” approach that conflicted with the “always more” mentality her teachers encouraged in Brazil. Now, Magri believes that perspective shift was crucial to her success. “I carry both with me,” she says. “I can still do a massive grand jeté with split legs, but with a well-placed upper body and delicate fingers.” 

For several years, Magri kept her head down and steadily worked to master The Royal’s finesse. She was promoted to first artist in 2015, soloist the following year, first soloist in 2018, then principal in 2021. While climbing the company ranks, Magri approached her career with a balance of verve and patience—much like the happy marriage of power and subtlety she continued to foster in her dancing. “She is a real company member, someone who will always be there for the company and her colleagues,” says friend and fellow principal dancer Marianela Nuñez. “She’s a generous soul…something that comes across when you see her on the stage.”

Olga Evreinoff, a coach at The Royal who has worked with Magri on major roles like Princess Aurora and Gamzatti, admires Magri’s intellect, resolve, and capacity for integrating feedback. “I think her strength is herself,” says Evreinoff. “It’s just how she is, like the airplane that goes and goes faster, and then it takes off. She’s at that point where she’s taken off.”

Recently, Magri has leaned further into her artistic development. In her downtime, she and her partner, fellow Royal principal Matthew Ball, enjoy attending operas and classical concerts to connect with the opera house’s other artists. She’s also a fan of the TV show “Friends” (“I’ve probably seen it through six times now!”), which helps her wind down from particularly taxing days. 

Magri and Ball motivate each other both inside and outside the studio. “We can be really honest and help each other with our weaknesses,” she says. “For me, that’s partnering—Matthew reminds me I can’t be too much in charge.” The duo performs in galas around the world during breaks, opportunities Magri relishes for the chance to travel and to practice repertoire. One example is the role of Kitri, which she brushed up on earlier this season for the 2023 Prix de Lausanne gala, then danced in The Royal Ballet’s fall production of Don Quixote.

Going forward, Magri hopes to expand her reach in the company’s repertoire, with Manon being a dream role. “I think one of the challenges for Mayara is that she loves being onstage,” says O’Hare. “And as a principal, you perform less than you do as a soloist.” But when she is onstage, “She hits you between the eyes,” he says. O’Hare also hopes Mayara will be able to create more original roles that showcase her versatility, as she did with Rosaura in Christopher Wheeldon’s Like Water for Chocolate and several solo roles in the company’s contemporary repertoire. 

Eventually, Magri plans to transition into full-time coaching and education, citing a great desire to give back. She points especially to the people in Brazil who have shared their pride and supported her throughout her career. 

“I just need to keep going forward, inspiring people to keep on doing what I love to do, and to help them find the joy that I found,” she says. “The career I’ve had is giving me so much that can help future generations.” 

The post Mayara Magri’s Intellect, Resolve, and Versatility Have Powered Her High-Flying Career appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Perel earned a BA in international comparative studies while also maintaining performance commitments with LAB. “During Nutcracker season, I would fly out to L.A. to do weekend rehearsals, then fly back to Durham,” she says, recalling flights filled with writing essays and preparing presentations. Perel’s minor in dance introduced her to Carolina Ballet ballet master Debra Austin, resulting in an invitation to perform with that company as a student and a contract after her 2020 graduation. “College enhanced my dancing, and it gave me an incredible ability to balance multiple projects,” says Perel, who also served as the artistic director of Duke’s student-run ballet organization. “Sometimes you have to go with the less traveled path—just keep pushing, and don’t doubt yourself.”

Her First Move:

“I had never been to California when I got my corps contract at LA Ballet. My best friend at the time also got a contract, so he and I went online and found an apartment near the studio—we didn’t even look at it in person.”

A Very Hollywood Show:

“At LA Ballet, we performed The Nutcracker at the Dolby Theatre, where the Oscars are held. I danced the Rose lead in the Waltz of the Flowers, a dream role for me since I was a child. It’s a huge theatre, 3,200 seats, and the stage is humongous. But I remember I had no nerves; I was beaming from ear to ear.”

Her Pre-Performance Ritual:

“I go up to the stage very early, when it’s quiet and the house lights are on, so that I can engage in the movement and the emotion of the piece. I like to walk around the stage and think about where I’m going to focus my gaze, so that I can engage with as many people in the audience as possible.”

Being Present:

“As a dancer, I’m enjoying the moment that I’m having in my career. With ballet and Duke, I was always thinking about that next step. But for the past few years with Carolina Ballet, I have felt myself mature into my dancing so much more because I’m taking the time to say, ‘What can I do today? How can I fix these steps or make my body feel the best that it can in this moment?’ And that is what’s helping me grow as a performer and grow as an artist.”

The post Carolina Ballet’s SarahAnne Perel is Pursuing a Career Without Limits appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Age: 31

Hometown: Bangkok, Thailand

Training: Cala Dance, Studio Zoom, Broadway Dance Center’s International Student Visa Program

Tricked into dancing: At 10 years old, Kasamatsu thought he was being treated to a shopping spree when his mom revealed that his new clothes were for a hip-hop class taking place in the mall that day. “I was so embarrassed, but I came out of it feeling like I was on top of the world,” he says. He continued taking the weekly class and supplemented it by teaching himself from YouTube videos.

Starting a studio: After high school, Kasamatsu founded Studio Zoom with his mom to address the scarcity of dance classes in Bangkok. Today, the in-person studio offers classes for all ages and skill levels, hosts workshops with international guest choreographers, and connects dancers with professional opportunities.

Going global: At 20 years old, Kasamatsu moved to New York City to pursue dance professionally, performing for artists such as Jennifer Lopez, Ne-Yo, Daddy Yankee, and Mark Ronson. He then pivoted his focus to teaching—at Peridance, Broadway Dance Center, and conventions—and choreographing, founding his troupe, akompany, in 2018.

Making moves and music: While creating his first full-length show, 2022’s one, two, three., Kasamatsu was dealing with a back injury. “I started recording my breath and other sounds to create a rhythm,” he says. Once in the studio, “we created phrases to the sounds I made and continued with movements that felt good given my body limitations. Then, it was a reverse process where I’d watch the videos and voice sounds to match the movement phrases we came up with.”

More than dance: Kasamatsu’s second full-length show, ka•zoku (2023), which means “family” in Japanese, reflects­ akompany’s mission “to con­nect with people on more than a dancer level, but on a human level,” he says.

Fighting burnout: “I’m passionate about film and photography, but they can be so closely tied to dance that they become part of the burnout,” he says. “So tennis is a big part of my de-burnout process. It really helps me mentally and physically.”

Putting it all together: “I see him as an entity, not just as a dancer, because he has his hands in so many different aspects of the entertainment industry,” says New York City–based choreographer Neil Schwartz, who taught Kasamatsu when he was a student at Broadway Dance Center and continues to serve as his mentor now that they are both on faculty there. “To see someone create their own lane and set trends that came from the depths of their brain is truly remarkable and a breath of fresh air.”

Looking forward: While Kasamatsu’s choreography is often complex, his vision for his career is simple: “My goal,” he says, “is to forever not love dance any less when I wake up the next day.”

The post Meeting Kenichi Kasamatsu, the Choreographer Turning Dance Brain-Teasers Into an Art Form appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Expanding Her Artistry

After dancing in New York for over 20 years, Struxness made the move to Los Angeles in 2019. She had worked all over Broadway, but always on other people’s projects. She wanted to start creating her own work.

She started with improvisational dance videos. They led to a realization: “I didn’t feel like I could maneuver with my voice with the same sort of alacrity and awareness,” she says. “I wanted to be able to do that.”

The album, she explains, is “that assignment that I’ve given myself so that I can start getting to know my voice as an instrument the way that I know my body as an instrument.”

Creating the Album

Despite her musical background—she played violin as a kid—Struxness doesn’t consider herself an instrumentalist. But, alongside producer Sam Perlow and co-songwriter Ella Poletti, Struxness helped craft the sound and orchestrations of her songs by tuning in to her dancer brain. When listening to the tracks sent to her by her producer, Struxness would dance to the music to see what beats were missing, what sounds she wanted to highlight, and where she wanted “more meat.”

Now that the album is out, what is next for Struxness? “Music videos, music videos, music videos!” she says. “I basically made the music so that I could create music videos.” In the meantime, Struxness would love to see dancers dancing to Physical Attention.

The post <i>Hamilton</i>’s Betsy Struxness Shares Her Journey to Creating Her Debut Album appeared first on Dance Magazine.

McFadden Herrera grew up in northern New Jersey, traveling into New York City to train at Steps on Broadway and Broadway Dance Center. At 17, she booked her first job in the Radio City Christmas Spectacular, then performed with Mia Michaels’ New York City–based dance company. Meeting soon-to-be Wicked choreographer Wayne Cilento in 1999 at an audition for the Broadway production of Aida sparked a long creative partnership. Fast-forward three years and the two were collaborating on what would become the enduringly popular musical.

With a recently mounted production in Sydney, Australia, 2023 marks the 20th anniversary of Wicked’s Broadway debut. Even after all these years, McFadden Herrera says the show is never performed the same way twice.

At this point, Wicked is part of my DNA. Wayne and I had worked together in Aida and on a cruise ship show when he asked me to help with the choreography for Wicked. It was very collaborative; movement would come out of me and he would shape it. He’s a master at staging. The show’s initial success was unbelievable.

The show is a living, breathing thing, and it’s never performed the same way twice. That’s the beauty of live theater, but it’s also very difficult to maintain.

There’s a lot of choreography, but it looks deceptively simple and seamless, almost cinematic. Dancers can watch and just mimic what you’re doing physically. To attach meaning to it, so that we’re collectively telling the same story, is something else entirely.

When I teach the show, I don’t teach it in order. The opening is so difficult, it’s all individualized musical staging, and very acting-based, so you have to understand what your subtext is. I generally skip ahead and start with the stuff that moves more, like the Ozdust ballroom section, and then start adding additional layers once the dancers are acclimated to the show’s style.

We’re now two generations down the line, and some of the dancers we’re teaching the show to now weren’t even born when it first went up. Many of the dancers are so physically talented, but they’ve never had to act in this way before, so it’s very gratifying to help them grow in communicating their passion.

It’s a never-ending process. The show’s principals generally stay about a year here in the States, and then we try to turn them all over at once. But the ensemble is like a revolving door because of how the contracts work. I really feel for my dance captains sometimes, teaching track after track to get everybody in. They don’t always have time to watch the show, which is when I need to step in and make sure the company feels cohesive.

It’s always amazing to have director­ ­­Joe Mantello come talk to the performers. The way he speaks about storytelling and his vision­ of the show, even 20 years later, always teaches Wayne and me something new. And that helps us stay fresh and on our toes.

The show is this kind of fairy-tale fantasy, but it’s rooted in real human emotion and predicament. And I think that’s why people love it so much.

The post How Corinne McFadden Herrera has Maintained <i>Wicked</i>‘s Choreography and Staging for 20 Years appeared first on Dance Magazine.

You get the sense that Sykes, who arrived in New York in a U-Haul 20 years ago at 18, sees himself as something of a group enterprise. He studs his narrative with the names of people who’ve helped and shaped him, from his septuagenarian babysitters to the Broadway professionals who taught him the ropes.

His talent? It’s a Sykes-family thing. His career? A series of surprises. Pal Joey? More on that later. First, his story, after the parents fall in love. 

Sykes’ parents—a Baptist pastor and a schoolteacher—raised him in St. Petersburg, Florida. “Growing up in the Black Southern church,” Sykes says, “we were heavily immersed in the arts. Everybody sang, everybody danced, everybody played instruments.” He loved it, but it was his younger sister, Martina, now touring in The Lion King, who was the born performer. He “kinda tagged along and would peep in on some of her dance classes.” 

Music was his first love, and his mother, who plays the drums, started teaching him when he was around 5. His father plays piano, French horn, and trumpet, and Sykes remembers the music that filled their home with a nostalgia that sets him aglow. “I was singing and playing and dancing since I could walk and talk,” he says. “And on the weekends doing our chores, they’d throw on all the old Motown records.”

Then a ballet teacher came to his fourth-grade band class in search of more toy soldiers and mice for The Nutcracker. “They forced me to go to this audition, and that became my first ballet class,” he recalls. Surprise number one: He was told he “had a natural talent.” So he went through the Pinellas County Center for the Arts’ arts magnet school program all the way through high school, studying both music and dance, and attending summer intensives at The Rock School for Dance Education in Philadelphia and at The Ailey School in New York City.

He didn’t get into Juilliard or any of the other colleges he was hoping for, and instead accepted the theater scholarship he’d been offered at Tennessee State, planning to join the marching band. Still, he couldn’t resist one last summer at Ailey, “just to dance and hang up my shoes.” Surprise number two: At the end, he was invited to join the incoming class at Ailey’s joint BFA program with Fordham University. “Just like that,” he says, snapping his fingers, “change of plans.” 

After graduating, Sykes toured with Ailey II for a second year, but didn’t get into the main company—or any others. “All these auditions, I’d do really well, but I never crossed that boundary. It’s like God was shutting the doors to the concert life on me, and I didn’t know why, or what to do,” Sykes says. His father came to the rescue. “He said, ‘Hey, stay a little longer,’ and he put a little more money into my bank account.”

Within that week came another surprise. James Brown III, who’d assisted when Darrell Grand Moultrie choreographed on Sykes at Ailey II, was now the dance captain at The Little Mermaid on Broadway. “He said, ‘Hey, there’s a guy leaving the show,’ ” Sykes remembers. “ ‘You’ll fit the costume. Why don’t you audition?’ ”

Broadway musicals were not on Sykes’ radar. “I had no clue,” he says, “no interest.” Then he went onstage in Little Mermaid. “I was like, ‘Oh, wait—this feels almost like a home.’ ” The company took him under their collective wing, teaching him how to manage his voice, how to manage the tap choreography, how to manage his salary, just how to manage. 

With all that on-the-job learning came another realization: “Much as I love the Ailey choreography and the company, not being able to sing, not being able to play instruments, I always felt I was missing parts of myself.” He went on to exercise those parts in Memphis, Newsies, Motown: The Musical, Hamilton, and, of course, Ain’t Too Proud, while getting film and television work, too.

Choreographer Sergio Trujillo remembers Sykes’ Memphis audition distinctly. “I was like, ‘Who is that boy?’ He was like a colt, so athletic, with long limbs—when he took flight, it was beautiful to watch.” Working with him, Trujillo became equally impressed with Sykes as a person and as an artist. “We had the relationship and the trust where I could just lean into him and say, ‘Can you try this? Can you try that?’ That’s special.” 

​​In 2019, Ain’t Too Proud earned them both Tony nominations. Trujillo won, Sykes didn’t. But Sykes’ tour de force performance as the Temptations’ most notable lead singer, David Ruffin, copped the Chita Rivera Award for best male dancer on Broadway. Trujillo says Sykes was more than dancing, singing, and acting the difficult role. The “quadruple threat,” Trujillo says, also brings “that other thing”: unmatched charisma.

Sykes’ magnetic presence helped him win the Michael Jackson role in 2019, right before COVID-19 taught him and everyone else in theater that surprises aren’t necessarily good. By the time MJ was getting back on its post-pandemic feet, Sykes was involved in another project—a film that has yet to be made—and he opted to stick with it, instead of returning to the role he’d done in the MJ workshop. 

Which brings us to Pal Joey, giving seven performances November 1–5 as City Center’s annual benefit presentation. In 1940, despite the glorious Rodgers and Hart score and the presence of then-newcomer Gene Kelly in the title role, the musical opened to mediocre reviews—the usual explanation being that Broadway wasn’t ready for the cynicism and bad beha­vior of its sleazy hero. Since then, the show’s bumpy history has included a hit revival in 1952; a 1957 film starring Frank Sinatra; limited-run City Center revivals in the early ’60s with Bob Fosse as the heel; and a 2008 production with a new book that fared little better with the critics than the original.

Goldwyn and his friend and partner Richard LaGravenese­ got permission from the Rodgers and Hart estate to do yet another version, and to subtract or add Rodgers and Hart songs, which they did. Their idea, Goldwyn says, was to change Joey from “just a cad who sleeps with a lot of women” to “a true artist, a genuinely gifted man.” As they tinkered, Joey evolved into a Black jazz singer struggling to be heard in 1940s Chicago. But the show’s theme, Goldwyn notes, goes beyond race to “explore the human need to be seen. When your story is not being heard and you are invisible, that is a very painful way to live your life.” LaGravenese enlisted Daniel “Koa” Beaty to work with him on the book, and Goldwyn asked Glover—his “dream partner”—to choreograph and co-direct.

They chose Sykes to play this Joey because, Goldwyn explains, they needed someone “to be the star that everyone talks about him being in the story.” Then there was the dancing: “We needed a man who could hang with Savion Glover.”

Glover says Goldwyn’s name alone got him interested. But, he adds, “I was thinking the old Pal Joey. When I found out what was really going on, it turned into me having the opportunity to once again be part of a narrative that has been a part of my life. My story that is the story of Sammy Davis Jr.; my story that is the story of Chuck Green, Jimmy Slyde, Ben Vereen, Picasso, Frank Sinatra. This iteration of Pal Joey is a lot of cats that I know.”

Sykes says Joey hits “very close to home” for him, too—“a young, hungry Black man out of the South trying to make it as a performer.” When he was asked to audition, he’d never seen Pal Joey and knew nothing about it, so he did some research. He feigns nonchalance as he describes his reaction: “Oh, there was a movie. Oh, Gene Kelly did this. No pressure.”

Needless to say, the dance in this production is pivotal. Glover promises it will “look like nothing I’ve seen myself or heard myself do,” while also including “everything” he knows. Sykes is a little less elliptical, but admits the choreography is hard to describe. “It feels like a coming together of a lot of different languages,” he ventures, “the main one being Savion’s hoofing and tap language meeting the world and the movement of that time period‚ especially Black folks. How we moved, how we walked, that whole energy, those steps that were popular in the ’40s in the Black community, in the juke joints.” 

Talking about the show, Sykes is clearly awed. “Savion is teaching me this entirely different language, tying back to my ancestors, his ancestors, our African roots,” he says. “He’s able to communicate with his feet the thoughts that are in his mind. He’s one of the greatest to ever do it, and I’m having one-on-one sessions with this man!”

Sykes will probably stay a student always, but he also has something to teach. He and his sister, Martina, have started a college scholarship fund at their high school: the SykesKids Scholarships. When he goes back to give talks, he cites the unexpected turns his life has taken. “See the blessing in the closed door, and just stay open to where God is leading you,” he urges them. “Don’t get tunnel vision on your dreams.”

The post Ephraim Sykes Is the Toast of Broadway and Beyond appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Company: Complexions Contemporary Ballet

Age: 19

Hometown: Austin, Texas

Training: Joyce Willett School of Dance, Rise Dance Company, Dance Industry Performing Arts Center, Booker T. Washington High School for the Performing and Visual Arts

Accolades: 2022 Clive Barnes Awards dance finalist

Charting a course: Burse was introduced to Complexions at 12 years old while taking class from Mia Michaels at JUMP Dance Convention.­ “She called me out and asked if I knew who Desmond­ Richardson was,” Burse says, referencing Complexions’ co-founder and artistic director. “She said the way I danced reminded her of him, and that I should Google him.” After researching the company, she auditioned for Complexions’ intensive and attended six summers in a row.

A teenage prodigy: At just 17, Burse joined Complexions as an apprentice. “All of those years attending their summer program acted as an audition for me. They had seen me grow,” she says. Not only did Burse move to New York City away from her family, but she finished her senior year of high school virtually while on tour. During the summer of 2022, she was offered a full company contract.

Digging deep: For Burse, the Complexions repertoire requires vulnerability. “I’m working on going to a deep, connective place when I dance so that I can have an impact on the audience,” she says. Rhoden’s WOKE has helped her hone this particular skill. “WOKE is one of the most challenging pieces I have ever done—physically, mentally, and emotionally. It’s about what is happening in the world with Black Lives Matter and the Me Too movement.”

What her director is saying: “Christian­ is an extraordinary young artist,” says Rhoden, who leads Complexions with Richardson. “She has the uncanny ability to morph into any style of movement. In many ways, she reminds me of a young Desmond with her passion, intelligence, work ethic, natural instincts, masterful ability, and poetry in her movement. She bursts onto the stage with an unforced charisma and never fails to move audiences.”

After hours: Once rehearsals wrap, Burse finishes most days with class at Broadway Dance Center or Steps on Broadway. “I want to expand my versatility,” she says. Some of her favorite teachers are Marguerite Derricks, Teddy Forance, Martha Nichols, and Ebony Williams.

Her dreams for the future: Though she’s dazzling in contemporary ballet, Burse aspires to perform in a variety of styles over the course of her career. “At some point I want to do commercial dance, I want to dance on tour with an artist like Beyoncé, I want to do musical theater,” she says. “I’m open to anything and everything. This is just the beginning.”

The post Meet Complexions Contemporary Ballet’s Christian Burse appeared first on Dance Magazine.

My mother, Michelle Ramos, was a dancer herself, and swears that once I heard the music start for whatever show she was performing in, she would feel me ball up tight in her stomach, ready for the thrashing to begin. Apparently, she danced so full-out that people thought I was a pillow stuffed in her costume. No! No, I was in there dancing too! In fact, my father was also a dancer, so naturally it’s in my blood. Dance is pas de bourrée-ing up and down my veins as you read this.

Later on in life, I would discover that I loved making dances rather than performing them, but that doesn’t stop me from turning on my favorite playlist and busting a move while I clean my apartment. For me, inspiration can strike at any moment. I apologize to all the commuters who have to witness me dance while on the 1 train in New York City, or while in line for an iced coffee, or while grabbing drinks at intermission during a Broadway musical. I literally cannot stop dancing.

I really try to keep a childlike joy in my approach. Even during those hectic months last year when I was working as the principal choreographer on both Mr. Saturday Night and the revival of Funny Girl—two Broadway shows that opened within three days of each other—even then, as I was sprinting the 11 blocks between the August Wilson and the Nederlander, shoving a tomato-and-cheese Pret sandwich into my face, I never forgot how wonderful a life full of dance can be.

Every job I take on is a way for me to learn more about dance, movement, and my relationship to them. Dance is truly the longest and most stable relationship I’ve ever had. She has been there for me during my highest of highs and my lowest of lows. She can make me cry or make me laugh, and I truly feel like I was put on this earth to learn as much as I can from her. For that, I am forever grateful. I cannot stop learning, I cannot stop moving, and I cannot stop dancing. That is why I dance. Periodt.

The post Ellenore Scott, Choreographer, Director, and Content Creator, Shares Her Lifelong Relationship with Dance appeared first on Dance Magazine.

In 2016, a performance of Serenade after Plato’s Symposium inspired her to start. “I was so excited by that work,” says Harss. “It felt like he had reached a new level of mastery in the way he was able to depict conversation and thought.” She wrote to him that very night. Ratmansky was generous with his time and access, so Harss dove into research. In 2019 she received a fellowship from the Center for Ballet and the Arts at New York University that allowed her to begin writing.

Just as she was wrapping up her book, the COVID-19 pandemic, and especially the Russian invasion of Ukraine, upended Ratmansky’s life and forced Harss to recalibrate—and even retitle—her text. Her biography, now called The Boy from Kyiv, published by Farrar, Straus and Giroux, is scheduled for release on October 3.

Your book was nearly due when the world fell apart—Ratmansky’s world in particular. How difficult was that? 

It wasn’t difficult, but it did require a complete rewrite! I waited a while, until the situation of the war became more clear. Then I realized that it wasn’t just about writing a new ending, because the war clarified something about his identity that had never been clear to him before. It was a significant internal shift. Every time we’d had a conversation about “Where do you feel like you’re from?” the answers had always been this idea of being an internationalist and “My world is ballet.” But then, suddenly, home meant where his parents are, where his sister is, where his wife is from. And I realized it was a theme I had been wrestling with earlier, because I felt that there was more to his Ukrainian identity than he was letting on. In fact, it was lying right below the surface. He didn’t even fully comprehend it. So I had to go back through the whole thing and basically listen to it. The weight of certain things became more apparent. 

You show how Ratmansky’s been working in multiple ballet languages his entire life. You speak several languages and have an extensive background in translation. Did writing this book tap into a similar process? 

I feel that my background does “translate” [laughs] into my dance writing because I’m translating what I see onto the page for a reader. Though I think one of the interesting things about dance is it doesn’t require words. What’s wonderful about it is it communicates across linguistic and cultural barriers. That said, I do believe that Ratmansky translates what he learns in one place and applies it in another. Bright Stream is both a translation of his Bolshoi training and a translation of Bournonville—what he learned in Denmark about mime and about being natural onstage and about petit allégro. Because he’s been so multinational, he can draw on all these dance languages and combine them into a new one. I guess you could say it’s like Esperanto—a new language that contains all the old ones.  

You mention his big, recent move to the New York City Ballet in your epilogue. Is it hard to let go at this point? 

Everyone who has seen his work at different stages in his life knows that stage, but almost nobody has the whole picture because he’s moved from place to place. I hope the book will be helpful for people to understand where these different stylistic elements come from and how they fit together. Who is this person who wants to and is able to create this weird combination of humor and humanity and warmth and structural solidity and bravura? It’s a mosaic that then becomes a portrait. It’s the perfect time to end because it’s the end of Act III, we’re entering Act IV. I’m not going to stop being interested in his work, for sure, and I’m going to keep writing about it. I think following the career of a person so closely is one of the most interesting things you can do as a critic and a writer. It’s a profound and stimulating process.

The post An Inside Look Into Author Marina Harss’ New Biography on Alexei Ratmansky, <i>The Boy from Kyiv</i> appeared first on Dance Magazine.

In addition to adding a sense of freedom to her impeccable technique, dancing with the Chicago-based company has given Assucena the opportunity to perform on some of the world’s most famous stages—from New York City’s David H. Koch Theater while on tour with The Joffrey to the historic Bolshoi Theatre during the Benois de la Danse competition. Still, Chicago remains her home, the city where one of her most memorable performances took place: Assucena’s debut as Giselle with The Joffrey Ballet. “I felt like I could fly in every step,” she says. “I had never been so calm onstage before, especially for a debut in a classical ballet,” she continues, adding that Giselle is her “absolute favorite ballet.”

An Early Interest in Performing Arts:

“My first memory that is connected with any kind of performing is when I was 5 years old and my parents took me to watch the opera Aida back in Brazil. The next morning, I was reenacting as many scenes as I could with my dad. I remember only walking around on demi-pointe, doing the splits, and putting my arms in fifth position any chance I got. After that my mother looked for a good school and signed me up for ballet class.”

Moving From Rio de Janeiro to Florida at age 14:

“My biggest challenge was adapting to a new culture and making new friends when just becoming a teenager. Not having family there to pick me up when I was down and tired was brutal. It wasn’t until later that I learned who my true friends were—they became my family away from home.”

Her Pre-Performance Routine:

“I used to have a ritual of doing everything exactly the same each time I had to perform a lead role, but I’m trying to change that since it’s become too stressful. One thing I still do is have a moment to myself before curtain to get connected to a higher power. Then, I knock on the stage three times, give it three kisses, and touch my shoes, and costume, and headpiece—as a teacher of mine once told me to do. I then do three little sautés in first position to shake the nerves off, and it’s showtime!”

A Favorite Stage:

“I truly loved performing at the Koch Theater in New York City. It brought this sense of intimacy with the audience, but also total freedom—a stage where I didn’t feel nerves.”

The Power Of Music:

“I also love any time I get to share the stage with an orchestra, instead of having them in the orchestra pit. Having them play right behind us completely changes the space and fills it with passion, like you’re enveloped in that one single moment, and nothing can take you out of it.”

An Unforgettable Performance:

“Performing Christopher Wheeldon’s Nutcracker pas de deux in Cancun this past July will stay in my heart forever. I had the honor of being accompanied by Alondra de la Parra and The Impossible Orchestra, and to perform it alongside my longtime partner on stage and in life, Alberto Velazquez. It was a genuine, passionate, and emotional show.”

The post How Joffrey Ballet Company Artist Amanda Assucena is Dancing With Abandon appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Age: 21

Hometown: American Fork, Utah

Training: 24 Seven, Radix, NUVO, DancerPalooza, Chapters Intensive

Accolades: Senior Male Best Dancer (Orlando), The Dance Awards 2021; Senior Male Core Performer, Radix 2019

The “World of Dance” spotlight: In 2018, Willard competed as a soloist on “World of Dance,” making it all the way to Divisional Finals. “It gave me a platform and helped me to understand my voice better, and I learned how to navigate a professional space,” he says. Willard’s mentor, contemporary dancer and teacher Chaz Buzan, saw potential in him early on: “He’s a powerhouse mover, but is just as impactful when he goes still and looks out to the audience—that’s something you cannot teach.”

Performing with the stars: Willard’s resumé already reads like a who’s who of the entertainment industry, and he soaks in as much as possible from each experience. “In those rehearsals, not one dancer is lacking,” he says, “so I get to learn from everyone, including the artist, and also see other parts of production, like directing and filming, which I’m interested in pursuing someday.”

Improving from within: Willard considers his artistic development deeply connected to his personal growth. “For a long time I was holding on to anger and stress from my past, but once I let that go, I had to navigate a lot of change in the way I moved and how I used dance as a creative outlet,” he says. Buzan considers him “a beast of a dancer, but also one of the most loving, fun, and empathetic humans. His dancing is full of honesty and truth the more life experience he gets.”

Defining success: For Willard, success is being able to do what he loves, and that requires striking a balance between dancing for work and for play. “It’s the constant pressure to dance that’s exhausting, so taking breaks keeps me in a healthy relationship,” he explains. He also likes painting and journaling and prioritizes taking time to “dance the way I want to outside of my work.”

Next up: Currently performing on Madonna’s The Celebration world tour, Willard’s future goals include working with Doja Cat and Beyoncé. “I’m into reggaeton, contemporary, dembow, and Afrobeat, so I’d love to work with any artist of color whose music and life I can feel connected to.”

The post Meet Rising Commercial Star, Jaxon Willard appeared first on Dance Magazine.

But that outwardly spectacular performer has always nurtured her inner voice, too. In her post-performance life, Boykin has begun to share that voice through choreography, spoken word, and writing. Her Joyce Theater choreographic debut in New York City this month—during which her company, HopeBoykinDance, will premiere the evening-length, scripted dance-theater work States Of Hope—promises to reveal yet more aspects of Boykin’s distinctive creative language.

“It almost doesn’t feel real,” Boykin says. “[The Joyce] stage is so important to me. I’ve been able to work for so many names that have put me on that stage—but now it’s my name.”

Boykin grew up in Durham, North Carolina, where she began to nurture her creative vision as early as the fourth grade, helping to choreograph her school production of Willy Wonka. “My teacher told me she knew that I danced and asked if I wanted to help her make some steps,” Boykin remembers. “I have loved making things since then.” 

She started classes at Howard University but left to take a leap of faith, moving to New York City in pursuit of her dance dreams. She now refers to that period of her life as “sacrifice vs. need”: She lived on a friend’s couch, running from classes and work-study at The Ailey School to her part-time job at Capezio on 51st and Broadway. “I have done things that looked like sacrifice, but looking back, I see that it was a need,” Boykin says. “I didn’t understand the reason—I just knew that there was a reason.”

Boykin was invited to perform in the first Complexions concert by co-artistic director Dwight Rhoden, after he saw her in The Ailey School’s annual January performance. The next day, she took a bus to Philadelphia, where she auditioned for Philadanco. She danced there for six years under director Joan Myers Brown, who gave Boykin tools she would later use both inside and outside of the studio. “I learned so much from her about how she did her business, from working in the offices to steaming costumes and more,” Boykin says. 

While at Philadanco, Boykin also joined the faculty of University of the Arts, where she assisted the legendary Horton teacher and former Ailey dancer Milton Myers. She started honing her choreographic voice, too, creating works for Philadanco’s company choreography showcase. “It was here that I really started to get the ‘Hope-isms,’ ” Boykin says—the signature components of her dance language.

Boykin never let go of her desire to join Ailey. “It was the ultimate dream,” she says. In 2000, Boykin auditione­d for the company and was invited to join by then-artistic director Judith Jamison. During her tenure at Ailey, Boykin performed in a wide variety of works, a standout figure every time she walked onstage. Matthew Rushing—then an Ailey dancer and now the company’s associate artistic director, who has choreographed multiple leading roles on Boykin—describes her as explosive, timeless, and impactful. “I just remember her being able to articulate my dreams,” Rushing says. 

Though Boykin prioritized her performance work, she believed­ her time at Ailey served a bigger purpose. “By the time I left, I wanted to make sure that whoever crossed my path, whether a new artist, new choreographer, or guest teacher, that they felt welcomed and protected,” Boykin says. 

The ups and downs of a dance career don’t always foster self-love and reassurance. While performing, Boykin at times felt underappreciated due to her body shape and complexion. “I’m a petite woman that’s bald and undeniably Black,” she says. “I was up against a measuring stick that wasn’t even mine”—that measuring stick being the dance world’s problematic beauty standards. 

One of Boykin’s gifts to the dance world, and to those around her, has been her determination to never alter herself to fit a mold. Rather, with tenacity, resilience, and humor, she’s carved out her own space. Her uniqueness has become her superpower; her boldness has empowered the many dancers coming up after her. And her confidence to be unapologetically Black in every space has liberated others to do the same.

Despite the challenges of her performing life, “I was supposed to be there, and everything was on purpose,” Boykin says. “The time I spent hurting and growing was all organized. My steps were mapped out, decided, and ordered.”

Boykin’s deep passion for creation led to her founding HopeBoykinDance in 2016. Since then, she has made works for Ailey, Hubbard Street Dance Chicago, BalletX, Philadelphia Ballet, and American Ballet Theatre’s Studio Company. In 2018, Damian Woetzel and the Kennedy Center commissioned Boykin’s MomentsUponMoments, which she choreographed, wrote, and performed with then New York City Ballet principal and current Paul Taylor Dance Company resident choreographer Lauren Lovette. “Hope is the sort of artist whose light fills a space,” Lovette says. “She knits a tight physical bond to what you are saying with your body, and that force feels nothing short of cathartic after the curtain closes.”

Boykin’s dances often have a personal dimension. But States Of Hope—which features seven characters that represent her inner world, coming together like a memoir of sorts—is both personal and universal. “The parts of my life that have made me uncomfortable are fueling the creativity to share a story that I know is not just my own,” Boykin says. “I’m supposed to tell this story. I have to climb on top of this uncomfortable mountain and scream.”

Like much of Boykin’s choreography, States Of Hope also includes both an original score (by Ali Jackson) and Boykin’s own poetry. “I like to see movement through the music, like the nuances of trumpet, or a drum,” Boykin says. “I also tend to choreograph like I talk. And because I use my words in my movement, when setting it on a dancer, the choreography and text come together. It never fails.”  

Boykin’s future options seem endless, given her versatility, talent, and determination to leave a mark on this world. One definite goal? “I want a Tony or an Oscar,” Boykin says, with a chuckle. The two-time Bessie Award winner also recently received a New York Emmy Award nomination for her PBS ALL ARTS special “Beauty Size & Color,” which considers beauty ideals in the first two decades of this century.

Awards aside, Boykin’s most deeply held aspirations are characteristically generous. “I want to walk into a room and change the environment to the most productive, truthful space possible,” she says. “I want to carve away the things that didn’t work for my spirit, give the things that did, and leave that space with a little more hope.”

The post First As a Performer and Now As a Choreographer, Hope Boykin Has Nurtured Her Unique Voice appeared first on Dance Magazine.

The once-shy Leney has flourished with Scottish Ballet, tackling dramatic roles, like Blanche DuBois in A Streetcar Named Desire, and becoming a principal in 2022. During the pandemic she became a certified personal trainer and established Balanced With Rosi, to encourage a balanced approach to fitness and food. “I’ve been very adamant about not doing things like ‘What I eat in a day’ videos,” Leney says. “Everyone is different and everyone’s body is different, so I just try to be the kind of person that I’d want the younger version of me to see on social media.”

Her Pre-Performance Routine:

“I like to have calming music playing in the dressing room, and I like to have a good meal a few hours before. I don’t tend to have coffee if I’m doing a main role because I find sometimes it makes me a little bit shaky or heightens the nerves, and I like to feel very in control.”

Becoming Blanche DuBois:

“That was a standout role in my career because it’s really up to her to tell the story. It’s quite a dark story, but it was quite liberating to feel so free onstage—I’ve not felt that before.”

An Unexpected Promotion:

“It was my first performance of The Snow Queen. After curtain call, Christopher Hampson [Scottish Ballet’s artistic director and CEO] walked onstage, which doesn’t usually happen unless it’s a promotion or someone’s last show. I remember being like, ‘Don’t get your hopes up, Rosi.’ When he said my name, I was stunned—it was a bit of an out of body experience.”

Dream Roles:

“Every girl says Juliet, but it’s such a gorgeous role. And I’d also have to say Odette, especially because Scottish Ballet’s Swan Lake is by David Dawson, and he’s a dream choreographer to work with for me.”

Training in Health and Wellness:

“I’ve always had an interest, and when I moved to Poland, I started a nutrition course because I had a little bit of spare time. And then during the pandemic, I signed up for an online personal training course, with in-person exams.”

The post Scottish Ballet Principal Dancer Roseanna Leney is Redefining the Wellness Space appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Over the course of 37 years, I have devoted myself to the practice of dance to develop worlds that harness and contain the multiplicity of my bodily reactions, dreams, sense of power, vulnerability, and desires. There has not been one day since I was 7 1/2 years old, studying at the Dance Theatre of Harlem School and The Ailey School, that I have not danced or communicated with others through the dance. The relationships formed through my movement practice have been an extension of family and a map of my evolution as a woman.

Dance is a vehicle to navigate personal rituals and translate the exquisite rawness of being alive. Human feeling is beyond language and is amplified in the complicated web systems of the body. Our bodies are ever-changing networks of tiny spirited dances that collect and manage our memories; the corporeal, mysterious, and cognitive. When I dance it allows the thunderous echo of my heart and constant oscillation of my breath to spread to others.

In the swelling of the body there is an endless peeling back of my human layers while never reaching the core. As I shed the skins of being, I feel healed and restored—reborn without fear. Our movement patterns shift the platelets and constitution of our being and soften the borders of our edges and fears. The language of the body expands and contracts our capacity to feel, empathize, and evolve dimensional understanding of the world we live in. I love the idea of the body’s technology as a way to experience the process of developing and aging. Our bodies make sense. They fold into and echo the natural world’s ability to rebuild and multiply.

Whenever I am grappling with change, dance is an old and trusted friend that I can confide in to decipher clear pathways and make meaning. Double consciousness is cultivated through dance’s ability to allow one to look at oneself transparently and come home to the body’s abundance. My other face is revealed through the many surfaces of reflection that dance offers. A dance is a space to both hold on and let go inside of—to embrace the possibility of transformation at all junctures of life.

Having recently returned to performing as a soloist, I am rediscovering the feeling of adrenaline and abandon that is the exchange between the witness and the dancer. It is a beautiful sensation to be seen imperfectly, shape-shift, and explode into action. Performing again has allowed me to reconnect with the daily commitment to the practice, care, and regimen of the body.

It is humbling and exhilarating to continuously negotiate the body’s limits and limitlessness. To connect with feeling again and again. Remembering: the soft touch of a mother’s hand, your warm embrace, the cold aftermath, dislocation, a restless feeling, coming to the surface from the dark depths, the resurgence of blood to the flesh, laughter, delirium.

One breath is the beginning and the end of one’s life cycle. These breaths weave together to create a cacophony of feeling as I dance—little births and deaths. I keep regenerating within the cycle of breath again and again, with gratitude to the form.

The post How Sidra Bell Uses Dance to “Navigate Personal Rituals and Translate the Exquisite Rawness of Being Alive” appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Their plight is understandable. You could situate Batten Bland amongst the icons she’s danced for, like Pina Bausch and Bill T. Jones. You could list the varied settings in which she works: with her own troupe, Company SBB//Stefanie Batten Bland; in buzzy, immersive shows like Sleep No More; on commercial projects for brands like Hermès and Louis Vuitton; in her game-changing classes at Montclair State University. Or you could highlight the elements that animate her transformative dance-theater pieces: the balance of abstraction and narrative, the dazzling theatricality, the shifts in space and time.

All of those descriptions are accurate. But no list of adjectives or accolades or resumé highlights can fully capture Batten Bland and the entrancing worlds she creates on stages and beyond. 

For Batten Bland herself, it’s not so com­plicated: “I’m a professional collager,” she jokes. “I put a lot of stuff together and it works out.”

Though Batten Bland is talking about the micro—the way she blends genres and mediums and influences in her choreography—the same could be said for the macro of her life: how she moves through the world, weaving together her disparate artistic and personal experiences and forging connections through her preternatural charisma.

To collage is an inclination that Batten Bland comes by naturally. She grew up in a former paper factory in New York City’s SoHo, the daughter of a writer and a jazz composer. “The neighborhood was a cacophony of colors, sound, texture, scent,” she says. “It’s not at all lost upon me why I do what I do now, how I can inhabit a single space and yet turn it into so many at the same time.”

When Batten Bland was 9, gentrification pushed her family out of SoHo, and they relocated to Los Angeles. She spent her teenage years immersed in political activism and studying dance at Los Angeles County High School for the Arts, trekking back to New York City during the summers to train at The Ailey School and the Joffrey Ballet School.

After two years at SUNY Purchase, Batten Bland left to pursue professional work with choreographers like Seán Curran, Kraig Patterson, and Jones. It was while on an international tour with Jones that Batten Bland connected with Bausch’s company, Tanztheater Wuppertal, which was also touring. When visiting Wuppertal, she received a last-minute request from Bausch to audition to replace an injured dancer. Batten Bland learned a solo over the course of a few hours, then performed it for Bausch, who sweetly asked if she could do it again, but “better.”

Guesting with Tanztheater Wuppertal unlocked­ the European dance scene for Batten­ Bland. “I came out of that feeling like I had cracked the door into a space that had different types of making that I hadn’t had access to before,” she says. She relocated to France, and danced for artists like Hungarian physical-theater giant Pál Frenák and modern African choreographer Georges Momboye. She also began to choreograph. Her first evening-length work, Let’s Hang Out Like Wet Clothes, was a success and toured Europe. “The joy that I got from actually seeing that work live was the same pleasure that I received being inside of work,” she says. “I didn’t know that transference was possible. It was intoxicating.”

In 2008, Batten Bland founded her company to support her growing choreographic projects. Before long, she began feeling the call to come back stateside: Her parents were getting older, and she felt she had reached her ceiling in France. Batten Bland worried that her work wouldn’t be understood, as dance theater wasn’t nearly as popular in the U.S. as it was in Europe. But in 2011, she made the move, encouraged by her longtime supporter Mikhail Baryshnikov, whom she’d met early in her performing career in New York City. He predicted—correctly—that dance theater was growing in the New York scene, and offered her the support of his Baryshnikov Arts Center.

When Batten Bland auditioned for the then-recently opened Sleep No More in New York City, she knew that she had made the right decision. “It was like, duh, this is exactly what I’ve been made for,” she says. “It was another extension of how I already coexist inside that amazing hyphenation of theater-and-dance.” Batten Bland was in Sleep No More off and on until 2018, performing two of the show’s most iconic roles, the Bald Witch and Lady Macbeth.

Simultaneously, her company—now binational, with both American and French performers—was slowly gaining recognition stateside. Its visually stunning, highly tactile pieces appealed to both downtown dance insiders and first-timers. “Her work is incredibly accessible,” says Mia Yoo, artistic director of La MaMa Experimental Theatre Club, where Batten Bland is a resident artist. “Even if you’re not somebody who goes to see abstract dance—the community that she can speak to is vast and across the spectrum of performance-goers.”

But it wasn’t until 2017 that her work received widespread acclaim, with Bienvenue뻑短WelcomeBienvenidoكب‭ ‬الهأ, a La MaMa commission exploring immigration and featuring striking cardboard walls graffitied by audience members. The next few years marked one breakthrough after another, with 2019’s Look Who’s Coming to Dinner, an inventive reimagining of the 1967 film Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner, and 2022’s Embarqued: Stories of Soil, her Brooklyn Academy of Music debut. Embarqued—which explores African ancestral stories and transforms the stage into the deck of a ship—sold out its run, and the standby line wrapped through the building. “That made me feel like, wow, this scene is taking me seriously,” says Batten Bland. “I don’t feel like I have always been seen the way I thought I would have been here.”

This idea of being seen is a choreographic interest of Batten Bland’s—she likes to play with presence and absence, visibility and invisibility. Ensuring that the artists she works with are seen fully is also something of a mission. “She wants you to be who you are,” says Jennifer Payán, Company SBB’s associate artistic director. “She sees the heart and the imagination in someone’s choices, and then she amplifies it.” As longtime company member Emilie Camacho puts it, “She knows how to reveal people.”

Sometimes, she reveals people more literally. At Sleep No More, to which she returned in 2021 as a performance and identity liaison, she has worked with designers to properly light artists with darker skin tones. She’s also helped the show rethink its casting practices, inspired in part by her own experiences of being typecast throughout her career. “The world was saying, ‘Hey, has anybody noticed that Black women keep getting hired as witches?’ ” Batten Bland, who has an inviting energy and a gentle sense of humor, thrives when helping collaborators find common ground. “She shows everyone their bridge to each other,” says Kayla Farrish, a former Sleep No More performer and rehearsal director who has also performed with Batten Bland’s company.

Immersive theater has not only a diversity problem but also a training problem, Batten Bland says. Though the genre has exploded in the past decade, few collegiate programs prepare artists with the highly specific skills needed to be cast in a show like Sleep No More. Batten Bland, who recently earned an MFA in interdisciplinary arts from Goddard College, is starting to change that. Last year, she launched a physical-theater class at Montclair State University that links the dance and theater departments­. She is also working with MSU to pilot an immersive-theater summer intensive, which will include classes like clowning, acting for dancers, and physical theater, as well as opportunities to work with immersive-theater makers.

Batten Bland’s latest piece for her own company is also her most immersive yet. Coup d’Espace, which will have a residency at La MaMa next year before its premiere, asks what it takes to make communal change, to overthrow a space. It’ll take place inside of nine distinct rooms—depending on the setting, it may take over an entire theater building, or overflow onto the street.

This year, Batten Bland will also be working as the casting and movement director for a new show from the creators of Sleep No More, and taking Embarqued on tour. When not on the road, she’ll return to her home base, which is back where everything started: She lives with her family in SoHo.

“I’ve never seen someone ahead of me,” she says. “There is no template for me to follow. I’m not stepping into anyone’s shoes. I’m just stepping.”

The post The Magic and Magnetism of Stefanie Batten Bland appeared first on Dance Magazine.

That love came directly from my family. Fiestas and family gatherings would center around connection and laughter. Every party started with food and finished with a relative picking up an instrument and my whole family breaking into song. No one was formally trained, but it didn’t matter. Everyone played and sang from their gut. Eyes closed and heart opened, you could physically feel the joy in my house. The love of performing runs deep in my blood.

From the moment I stepped foot into BodyArts, my first dance studio, it was over for me. I became obsessed. I was hungry to get back in the studio and work on my pirouettes even though I could barely make fifth position. With the desperation to move and the deep love of music, I didn’t want to do anything else but dance. I felt a constant pull.

Whenever I dance, I get the same sweeping feeling. My heart is brimming. I feel euphoric and fulfilled. But it is really the connection onstage with other artists that gives my joy meaning. I was very fortunate to dance with some of my closest friends at BalletX. We toured, experienced life, developed as dancers and as people.

When I choreograph, I love being able to create a physical conversation for other artists to experience, to share, to contribute to. It brings me back to the family parties at my house where you could feel the air shift with commitment, joy, and music, everyone singing with a full heart and sharing this finite time together. Dance always brings me home.

The post Caili Quan Shares How Her Family Influenced Her Love of Performing appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Why Choreographing Appeals to Her:

“I’m generally a dance nerd when it comes to learning new techniques, but I love working my mind in that way of observing and seeing things and finding ways to speak about dance and share.”

From Assisting Kyle Abraham at NYCB to Creating Her Own Piece:

“Kyle is someone who really looks out for me as a dancer, choreographer, friend, artist—all things. That experience assisting Kyle on The Runaway was really cool because it was such a new world for Kyle at the time too. I met a lot of cool people, and I also got to see what that institution and the ballet world was like on the inside.”

Making History With Fortuitous Ash:

“Making a piece on New York City Ballet is still pretty surreal. I absolutely felt the pressure, but I tried to remember that if I wasn’t ready, I wouldn’t be here—pressure creates diamonds, they say.”

How Her Thai Heritage Influences Her Work:

“I like to live and present loudly and proudly of who I am, which is many things. Sometimes my work might not seem so blatantly ‘Asian’ to some people, but to me, it always is because it’s just who I am.”

Her Pre-Performance Routine:

“I keep it chill. Sometimes I like to have a warm glass of tea, and then it’s whatever I feel like will get me to that point of being grounded and calm.”

How Music Inspires Her:

“I love my music, and I usually create playlists that relate to certain times in my life or just how I’m feeling on certain days. If I’m more low-energy or it’s like a sleepy morning, I’ll play something like Lauryn Hill’s MTV Unplugged album. Or, I love Tierra Whack’s ‘Whack World Instrumentals’ as background music if I’m reading.”

When She’s Not Dancing:

“I love spending quality time with loved ones and eating good food. I like taking in the sun and going for walks, or even just running my errands. Then I binge-watch my shows like everyone else. Right after The Joyce season, I binge-watched ‘Beef’ on Netflix, which was great, and I caught up on some ‘Barry’ and ‘Succession’ on HBO.”

The post How A.I.M Company Member and Choreographer Keerati Jinakunwiphat Uses Self-Reflection When Creating appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Company: BalletMet

Age: 21

Hometown: Vega Alta, Puerto Rico

Training: La Escuela Especializada en Ballet Julián E. Blanco, Ballet Concierto de Puerto Rico, San Francisco Ballet School

Against the odds: After attending San Francisco Ballet School’s summer program in 2017, Dávila hoped to enroll full-time—and then Hurricane Maria hit Puerto Rico. “We had three months without power and a month without water,” she recalls, and her training was put on hold. A friend encouraged her to write a letter to the school about her situation, and they responded with a full scholarship. Dávila started in January 2018, and her teacher back home helped raise money to pay for a shared room in a hostel because the dorms were full midyear. “I told myself, ‘I’m gonna make this happen, no matter what.’ So many people sacrificed so much for me to get here.”

Finding home: Throughout her training and her first job at Tulsa Ballet II, Dávila struggled with her body image and hyperextension. “And being a Latina in the dance community is hard,” she says. “You’re around people who don’t look like you.” Joining BalletMet (she danced with the second company for a year before joining the main company) felt like coming home, she says, because artistic director Edwaard Liang “appreciates his dancers the way we are, and everybody is unique. Now I’m thankful for my body, instead of trying to change it.”

Memorable debut: Dávila was excited about her first lead role, as grown-up Clara in BalletMet’s 2022 Nutcracker, but then her partner got sick and missed tech week—they finished rehearsing backstage before their first performance. “During the coda we were like, ‘We made it!’ Then on the last lift, I slipped and fell. Every single show after that we were like, ‘It’s not over till we bow!’ ”

Dream roles: Manon, Kitri, and Juliet top her wish list, but when BalletMet does Romeo & Juliet next spring, she says, “I don’t care what role I’m doing, I’m going to enjoy it.”

What her artistic director is saying: “Iris creates incredible shapes and movement with her body, and she is able to trust her partners and fall into the choreography,” says Liang. “I believe her career will be bright.”

Savoring her time off: Dávila loves eating out, cooking, and baking, but nothing beats her grandmother’s fried chicken. “Whenever I go back to Puerto Rico, she calls me and asks, ‘When are you coming, so I can have the fried chicken ready?’ ”

The post Meet BalletMet’s Iris R. Dávila appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Chicago’s leading repertory company struggled, as all dance companies did, during the pandemic. But years of turnover and financial challenges had been creating uncertainty well before COVID-19 lockdowns began.

In March, Linda-Denise Fisher-Harrell rounded the bend on two years in the artistic director’s chair. Picked to usher Hubbard Street through the turmoil and into a new era, Fisher-Harrell has proved a savvy and steadying leader, leaving her mark on the company while honoring its past. 

Fisher-Harrell is just the fourth director in Hubbard Street’s 46-year history—the first woman and first person of color to serve that role. Founder Lou Conte was artistic director for 23 years, followed by Jim Vincent and Glenn Edgerton.­ The company was not new to Fisher-Harrell; she had danced with Hubbard Street prior to a storied performance career with Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater.

When Fisher-Harrell auditioned for Hubbard Street in 1989, “I couldn’t take my eyes off of her,” says Conte, who was director at the time. “Nobody was as charismatic as her.”

Fisher-Harrell spent three seasons with the company. Though brief, her time there left an impression. The 19-year-old woman who arrived in Chicago in 1989 is often in her consciousness today.

“I was [at Hubbard Street] during the Tharp era,” she says, referencing a transformative multiyear commissioning project adopting new and existing works by Twyla Tharp. “When I envision Hubbard Street into the future, that’s the image that grounds me.” 

Fisher-Harrell leaned on Conte and former Ailey artistic director Judith Jamison as mentors as she navigated company leadership for the first time. “They were so powerful to me as artistic directors,” she says. “I’m asking for guidance or perspectives that I may or may not take. Either way, those relationships anchor me.”

A key priority from the get-go has been reconnecting with audiences. Before Fisher-Harrell’s directorship, a handful of highly entertaining programs were keeping the bills paid, like The Art of Falling (2014), a collaboration with The Second City, and Decadance/Chicago (2018), an evening-length assortment of Ohad Naharin works. But a critical mass of working-class Chicagoans failed to keep up with the company’s evolution toward a predominantly European aesthetic, culled from Vincent’s and Edgerton’s histories with Nederlands Dans Theater. Audience numbers had dropped off well before the pandemic, leaving some in the administration to question if they could continue to support a home season at the 1,500-seat Harris Theater for Music and Dance.

A cascade of additional challenges included several key staff turnovers. Executive director Jason Palmquist had left in 2017, replaced by ex-politico David McDermott. And when McDermott got his hands on the ledger, it was apparent that cuts were needed.

The company roster shrank, as did dancers’ contract lengths. In March 2020, the company’s affiliated Lou Conte Dance Studio closed. Perhaps the most symbolic loss was the sale of the company’s building at 1147 W. Jackson Blvd., its home since 1998.  

“It needed $3 million in roof fixes alone,” says McDermott.­ “From an investment perspective, it didn’t make sense.”

Linda-Denise Fisher-Harrell assumed leadership in 2021 at the height of the pandemic with her company in a beleaguered state. McDermott was on the selection committee. “She just got it,” he says. “She got Hubbard Street and she got Chicago—the richness and diversity of Chicagoland. It was clear to me that she was going to connect with Chicago and that the art she wanted to present was going to connect with Chicagoans.”

Fisher-Harrell was aware of the challenges. “This is the thing I was looking for, but I knew the state of affairs,” she says. “It felt like a reset, and I’m not afraid to create something out of nothing.”

As one of the few long-running repertory companies not named for its founder, Hubbard Street is in many ways unburdened by an obligation to honor Conte’s legacy. Still, Fisher-Harrell is committed to tapping into Hubbard Street’s roots. Conte, now age 81, is happy to be a mentor, but all parties are clear: Hubbard Street is Linda-Denise Fisher-Harrell’s company.

“I care a lot about what happens, but I don’t have any control of it,” he says. “I told her to follow her own lead and do what she thinks is right. She has good instincts.” 

A top priority for Fisher-Harrell was to turn her gaze westward and engage more American choreographers, particularly^­ choreographers of color. “I’m building a repertoire,” she says. “There are things in the past that I want to ­revisit…like taking out your old albums. There are going to be those reaches back. But as I reach back, I still want to build.­”

In two seasons, that catalog has included first-time commissions­ from in-vogue choreographers such as Amy Hall Garner, Hope Boykin, and Rennie Harris. Fisher-Harrell has also reengaged the company’s stake in Chicago, programming works by city natives Lar Lubovitch, Randy Duncan, Rena Butler, and Conte, who restaged his signature duet, Georgia, in May. And in rebuilding the dancer roster, now back to 14, Fisher-Harrell favored versatility—a necessity given the wide-ranging rep.

“I don’t want to turn my back on the European road,” she says. “All of the roads that were open to Hubbard Street, I feel like, are fair game.”

One of those roads was a relationship with Canadian American choreographer Aszure Barton, who set BUSK on the company in fall 2021. Barton will be Hubbard Street’s next choreographer in residence, beginning a three-year commitment this fall. Her residency looks like The Tharp Project: She will stage previous works on the company as well as make new ones. 

When Barton last worked with Hubbard Street, the company was rehearsing in a temporary, out-of-the-way warehouse space near the expressway, adjacent to a loading dock. It now occupies a sparkly, retrofitted storefront (previously an Adidas store) at the Water Tower Place mall on Chicago’s Magnificent Mile. 

The new space is a vast improvement, but still a temporary solution. As the company rebuilds, a permanent home is part of Hubbard Street’s long-term planning, as is reopening a school. Fisher-Harrell also hopes to add more dancers; perhaps reinstate a second company, apprentices, and a trainee program, to create more pathways to professional performance opportunities for promising young dancers; and to protect company dancers from burnout. 

All of that, she acknowledges, will take time.

“That’s dreaming big,” Fisher-Harrell says, “and I realize that we have to be fiscally responsible. I want us to approach [those dreams] the right way, so they last.”

Hubbard Street’s Next Generation

Alexandria Best

Raleigh, NC

BFA in dance, Pace University

Joined Hubbard Street in 2021

“Everyone is really here for the vision of Linda. The way that she has been involving so many different aspects from the Chicago community—I’m like, ‘Wow, this place is so fruitful.’ ”

Aaron Choate

Lexington, KY

BFA in dance, The Juilliard School

Joined Hubbard Street in 2022

“Hubbard Street is not one thing at all. I think that’s what is unique. I’ve never seen or felt a company that is so comfortable going so many different directions at the same time.”

Shota Miyoshi

Kanagawa, Japan

BFA in dance, SUNY Purchase

Joined Hubbard Street in 2022

“[Linda-Denise] always says, ‘The party’s on the marley.’ She always gives me a new mindset.”

The post Hubbard Street Dance Chicago Is Returning to Stability—And Its Roots appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Copeland plays Rose, a dance teacher and waitress supporting her mother, Gloria (former Dance Theatre of Harlem and Complexions Contemporary Ballet member Christina Johnson), who lives with dementia. The two struggle to keep their home in a rapidly gentrifying Oakland, California. Rose befriends Sterling (Alonzo King LINES Ballet’s Babatunji Johnson), a local man who renews her hope for the future of her community and its culture. Throughout the film, Rose and Sterling largely interact through contemporary dance, with Sterling also communicating through turf dance, a street style that originated in Oakland.

Flower is mostly nonverbal, creating an inclusive story ballet in film form. It took root years ago, when executive producer Nelson George—who directed the documentary about Copeland, A Ballerina’s Tale—encouraged Copeland to further explore acting after seeing her perform La Bayadère in California. Copeland and Fayyaz, Flower’s producer, continued to develop the idea. “We took the ball and ran with creating a new form of storytelling for film,” Copeland tells Pointe. “That has been like our baby that we’ve birthed during the pandemic, but with a lot of intention.” The only dialogue comes from unhoused individuals, meant to give voice to the voiceless.

“I feel that the work I’m doing off the stage is equally as important as being a presence on the stage,” says Copeland. “This is the direction that dance and ballet should be moving in—telling these types of stories that will invite different communities and make them feel seen and heard.”

Most of Flower’s creative team have ties to Oakland. Copeland was inspired by the city, her husband’s hometown, for its history of activism and the way its youth culture uses art as a tool for social justice. “It was important for the creatives to have a real say in cooperation with the project,” she says.

The film features choreography by Alonzo King and creative pair Rich + Tone Talauega, and music composed by Raphael Saadiq. Copeland began working with King on the movement approximately a month and a half before filming started. “We just went into the studio and started creating,” she says. “He would ask me, ‘What do you think your character would be saying in this moment?’ Then, we would create based off of that, and we gave Rich + Tone the space and freedom to do what they do, like with conversations about who Babatunji Johnson’s character was.” Copeland wanted the choreography to feel fully relatable and human. “I have such a sensitivity to different genres of dance coming together,” she says. “It can work so beautifully and organically, and feel like a conversation of two different languages.”

At times, Rose escapes into a dreamlike state. In one scene, inspired by the 1983 hit Flashdance, she warms up and freestyles before teaching a ballet class. She then appears to be transported to the stage of Segerstrom Center for the Arts, highlighting the comfort and freedom she finds in movement. The addition of Segerstrom was originally unplanned. “It was just supposed to be in the studio, in my element, and then I loved the idea of this transformation,” Copeland says.

The walls of Rose’s studio are decorated with illustrations of trailblazing dancers by Salena Barnes from Copeland’s book, Black Ballerinas: My Journey to Our Legacy. “We wanted it to feel authentic to this character and her connection to the Black community and Black dance community,” says Copeland.

Copeland reflects on Flower as her first performance since the pandemic and motherhood. “Even with the surgeries and injuries I’ve had, I’ve never taken that much time off from dance, so my body was in a very different state,” she says. During the biggest dance scene—a pas de deux between Rose and Sterling—she was pregnant. “To have that experience within this new experience of being a producer and in this type of film, it felt good. Now, stepping back and watching it, I feel like there are so many layers to my intentions, but also what I was feeling in those moments.”

During a talkback with CNN’s Sara Sidner following the Lincoln Center screening, Copeland and Fayyaz revealed plans to make Flower a series of shorts, with each focusing on an issue specific to a different city. “We were able to provide jobs to people in the area, especially during a time when people weren’t getting as much work and productions were closed down,” Fayyaz said of the Oakland installment. “We want to continue doing that in other communities across the country.”

The post Misty Copeland’s New Film, <i>Flower</i>, Explores Inequity and Celebrates Community appeared first on Dance Magazine.

I’m a fourth-generation Korean American. I grew up in Santa Fe, New Mexico, in a Hispanic neighborhood, attending bilingual Spanish and English schools by day while experiencing a very Asian American experience at home. My best friends were American Indian, Hispanic, and Asian American. Early on, I learned to move between different cultural worlds by embracing one concerted language: dance. Movement became my primary, galvanizing mode of communication. Through dance I expressed how I perceive the world.

As a young dancer I studied ballet, modern dance, jazz, and even martial arts. As I grew older, I developed a movement style that embraces all these forms. When I began choreographing, I founded a company of diverse dancers, Dana Tai Soon Burgess Dance Company. My dancers also speak my language, and add their unique cultural experiences to the interpretation of my choreographies.

I still feel invigorated in the studio. This is my sacred space where I can express my memories, emotions, and life experiences. I develop dances that express unique stories that celebrate the tribulations and triumphs of our shared human experience.
My feeling about and dedication to dance have deepened over the decades. At moments of fatigue, dancing rejuvenates my body and my mind.

Now, I often ruminate on the fact that dance is passed down from generation to generation—teacher to student. You can’t learn to be a professional dancer through a YouTube video or TikTok. I thoroughly enjoy choreographing, teaching, and coaching a new generation of dancers and celebrate how the journey of passing on physical knowledge from one dancer to another continues. Although I do not perform anymore, I am deeply thankful to continue to be in the studio alongside professionals in their prime. I now understand the field from multiple vantage points.

When I’m asked to give advice to a young dancer, I tell them to nurture what is unique about their life and to explore how this informs their dancing. An honest understanding of the self will allow you to dance for a lifetime.

The post How Choreographer and Artistic Director Dana Tai Soon Burgess Uses Dance to Move Between Cultural Worlds appeared first on Dance Magazine.

An Eye-Opening Summer Intensive:

“Dance Theatre of Harlem was my first non-commercial summer intensive. I got to stay in New York for about six weeks, and it was so cool to see a predominantly Black company extend their resources and their talent to young people who were trying to dance. To just be around that culture was exciting.”

Bringing More Representation OnScreen:

“So many people say this, but growing up, I didn’t see myself. And you realize the detrimental effects it has on you and your identity and how you present to the world. Most people who looked at me just identified me as Black, so being able to unapologetically be Black and Latina, it’s given me confidence that I didn’t know that I needed. And hopefully it shows other Afro-Latinos that they belong and that they’re represented—and represented in a positive way.”

Her Go-To Classes:

“I love taking Horton technique. I was very blessed to learn from Don Martin, who performed with Lester Horton Dance Theater and Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater, and I just fell in love with it.”

Getting the Part:

“I sent in my tape, and a couple of days later my agent called me and said, ‘They’d like to do a chemistry read with you and Jabari [Banks].’ A few days after the chemistry read, my agent called me and was like, ‘You’re going to be Jackie.’ I was extremely anxious the day he called me, too. I had taken myself on a sushi date and was reading to try to take my mind off of it when I saw his contact pop up on my phone.”

How Dance Informs Her Acting:

“I think being a dancer puts me more into my body; it helps me to think on my feet and go with what I feel.”

The post How Dancer and “Bel-Air” Actress Jazlyn Martin is Carving Out Her Own Creative Path appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Company: Cincinnati Ballet

Age: 23

Hometown: Havana, Cuba

Training: Cuban National Ballet School with Ramona de Saá, Ana Julia Bermúdez, and Yaima Fuentes

Accolades: Gold and silver medals, Havana International Ballet competition; winner, Youth America Grand Prix Chicago; Top 12, YAGP New York Finals

Budding bunhead: Ochoa began ballet lessons at age 5 and quickly developed a passion for the art. She went on to study at Cuba’s national school for eight years before joining the National Ballet of Cuba in 2017, where she danced for three years, launching her professional career at 17.

Broader horizons: As a member of Cuba’s corps de ballet, Ochoa shined in staples of the classical canon like Giselle, Swan Lake, and Cinderella, swiftly rising to the rank of first soloist. But, says Ochoa, “I’d always dreamt of dancing in the U.S.,” so she connected with Cervilio Miguel Amador, a former dancer with the National Ballet of Cuba who is now a rehearsal director at Cincinnati Ballet. She joined the company in February 2022 as a corps member.

Branching out: Cincinnati Ballet’s wide-ranging repertoire offers a good challenge, as Cuba was largely focused on the classics. “Here, you do everything, and I am excited every time a choreographer comes to start working on a different type of ballet,” she says.

What Cincinnati Ballet’s artistic director is saying: Jodie Gates promoted Ochoa to soloist in January after her “exquisite” performance as the Sugar Plum Fairy in The Nutcracker. “The backbone of her work is a very strong technical base, but it’s the richness of her artistry that makes her shine,” says Gates. “She has this intuitive way of approaching roles and really understands what it means to command the stage.”

The reel deal: If you haven’t watched Ochoa perform live, you’ve likely seen her trending on social media. Reels of her fouettés (sometimes reaching eight pirouettes) have been shared on numerous­ ballet fan pages. “I love turns!” says Ochoa, adding that it was common to engage in friendly competition with her colleagues during breaks in Cuba.

Downtime: On her days off, Ochoa likes going for walks with her boyfriend, Cincinnati Ballet principal Rafael Quenedit, and their Weimaraner, Kratos. Ochoa has befriended many of her colleagues, including first soloist Maizyalet Velázquez, a fellow Spanish-speaking dancer.

High hopes: Ochoa is excited to dive into contemporary work, while also performing in her “dream ballets” like Don Quixote and George Balanchine’s Jewels during the 2023–24 season.

The post Meet Cincinnati Ballet’s Katherine Ochoa appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Paliński moved to Los Angeles from his native Poland in 2015, looking for bigger opportunities after competing on “So You Think You Can Dance Poland” and performing with the top recording artists of his home country. The following year, he landed a job that would take his career to new heights: He was chosen to be a dancer for the burlesque superstar Dita Von Teese, joining the all-male Vontourage on her Strip, Strip, Hooray! tour.

Seven years later, Paliński—whose background includes ballroom, contemporary, jazz, and hip hop—has become a principal dancer, choreographer, and rehearsal director for Von Teese. For her Glamonatrix tour, which began in 2019 and ended in February after a two-year, pandemic-imposed pause, his offstage duties ranged from auditioning dancers to managing lighting cues and spiking props. Paliński also continues to dance for other artists, including a recent tour with the reggaeton sensation Karol G.

Von Teese and Paliński are preparing for a Las Vegas residency expected to open later this year. He will serve as a principal dancer and her creative associate responsible for choreography.

Strip, Strip, Hooray! was one of my first jobs after moving to L.A. I continued dancing with Dita, and, eventually, I choreographed a number for a new show of hers. I proved myself with that. Then for the next show it was like, “Can you choreograph multiple numbers?” It was the first time I could go back to choreography professionally after doing it in Poland, because after moving here, I had to start from scratch.

Dita saw some of my passion projects and concept videos, and she asked me, “Did you edit this yourself? Is this your concept?” Based on that, she started trusting me more with the creative side of her show. Even with big artists, sometimes you don’t need huge credits. They can see a passion project you did with no budget, and if it’s done really well and it makes them feel something, they can
trust you.

What makes Dita’s tours different from other commercial tours is that there’s a lot of individuality, and solo performances from the backup dancers. Some of the solos are burlesque performers with their own acts, and some we create for dancers who were not previously burlesque performers. A solo is very different from being a backup dancer; there’s so much playing with the audience in being the only person onstage.

In creating a solo, there is a certain amount of tapping into the performer’s natural style and ability. What I typically do is create the vision, and I love to be prepared with the steps before rehearsal rather than creating them on the spot. I teach it, and for those slow moments, I give an intention. Then, I see what the performer does with it. It’s allowing them to bring life to it, identifying their superpower and letting them live in that realm. You can adjust the expression, the story, or certain steps or positions, so they can really shine.

In an audition, the first thing we look for is stage presence. You have to be able to stand and be electrifying.

With choreography I love playing with stillness; the contrast between intense, sharp moments and then just being there and not moving for a while. I learned so much in working with Dita—how you can get the audience to react exactly how you want by sectioning the movements correctly and playing with the music.

I always wanted to be a versatile dancer, and I think that helps me now with choreography for shows like Dita’s. We had one number that’s jazzy and flowed a little bit from elements like West Coast swing and jazz. There’s another with a huge cake, a Marie Antoinette–inspired performance. Dita pulled inspiration for that from Madonna’s­ “Vogue” performance at the 1990 MTV Video Music Awards.

My days on tour are longer, because I have to come to the theater early on show day and spike all of the props with the crew, and make sure of where everything’s going to land. In every theater, the sight lines are different. Sometimes we have to go narrower with the props, and sometimes you can spread them out more. We make sure they are seen from each angle. When the dancers come in, we have a crew-and-cast meeting for all of the safety measures. After that, we run some of the numbers, and then I clean it. I watch it on video and make any adjustments.

Especially for a new show, I’m learning new things, but I also have to make sure everyone else knows what they’re doing and be able to answer their questions. What’s challenging is making sure that I’m on top of my stuff as a dancer, but taking care of everyone else as a leader at the same time. I try to give as many tools to new dancers as possible, so they can be self-sufficient. For example, there are a ton of costume pieces for each number, because we take off a lot of layers. The dancers make a list for each number.

There are a lot of moving parts in a touring show, and things constantly change. Sometimes, you’ll change the order of the layers Dita takes off, how she’s taking them off, or she’ll add or take a piece away. That then affects the timing of our choreography, and we have to figure out how to fit it. That keeps it exciting.

We’re brainstorming ideas about a show that’s a hybrid of our touring show and a Vegas revue. Dita wants it to have show girls and show boys. It would allow us to create bigger performances and have more dancers. It’s my dream to create grand numbers that are dance-heavy and hire people who have been consistently auditioning and showing their best.

The post How Alek Paliński Juggles Being a Performer, Choreographer, and Rehearsal Director for Burlesque Star Dita Von Teese appeared first on Dance Magazine.

That said: We need to talk about Kolton Krouse. Specifically, we need to talk about Kolton Krouse in the Trumpet Solo.

The solo arrived in the middle of “Sing, Sing, Sing,” DANCIN’s second-act opener, set to music made famous by Benny Goodman. A virtuosic three-minute wiggle originally created for Ann Reinking, it requires a finely calibrated combination of introspection and extroversion—“like you’re in a back room dancing for yourself in the mirror,” Krouse says. In the wrong hands (and, especially, legs), it can wilt. But Krouse teased and tickled and va-va-voomed it into full flower. By the solo’s climax, the audience was eating from the palms of Krouse’s impeccably manicured hands.

“Trumpet Solo needs an artist who can play outside of the boundaries of the steps,” says DANCIN’ cast member Dylis Croman, a Fosse veteran who memorably performed the number in the 2002 recording of Fosse. “You immediately feel that Kolton has that freedom and joy, that sense of fun, like a tiger getting ready to pounce. And let me just say: Their kick layouts are outlandishly good.”

The list of artists who’ve tackled the Trumpet Solo is short—and before Krouse, it featured only cisgender women. In DANCIN’, 27-year-old Krouse, who is nonbinary, performed the routine as part of a track that included roles in both heels and flats. (Their other big solo, “Spring Chicken,” used some of the “Mein Herr” choreography immortalized by Liza Minnelli­ in Cabaret.) It was a significant step toward inclusivity that also felt natural. Fosse asked dancers to be themselves onstage; DANCIN’ simply showed Krouse as Krouse.

“The thing about Kolton is that they are truly comfortable in their skin, which is what Bob always wanted,” says DANCIN’ director Wayne Cilento, who performed in the original 1978 production. “And that actually made it really easy to figure out the tracking. Like the Trumpet Solo: The question was, who was the best person in the room to do it? Kolton was the one.”

Krouse’s secure sense of self has been evident from a young age, bolstered by well-founded confidence in their own talent. A star of the dance competition and convention circuit, they became the first four-time National Outstanding Dancer at New York City Dance Alliance, winning the Mini title in 2007, Junior in 2009, Teen in 2012, and Senior in 2014. There were bullies in their conservative Arizona hometown, but Krouse largely shrugged them off. “My feeling was, this is such a small chunk of our lives,” they say. “Sure, you can yell at me. But pretty soon, I’m going to get out of here, and you’re probably going to stay in Arizona, and, you know—bye.”

As a student Krouse felt the pull of New York City, which had “an energy that made me feel like I belonged,” they say. Looking for ways to channel that energy, they enrolled at The Juilliard School. 

They admired the abstract concert dance repertory that shaped much of Juilliard’s­ curriculum. But soon they realized that what they really wanted to do was tell stories. “I started to focus on the idea of Broadway because it brought all the pieces together—the acting, the movement, everything I loved best,” Krouse says. They also had a difficult time with the school’s culture. “I got this sense that in order to become­ an artist, they had to break you down and then build you back up, which was not it for me.”

So Krouse was ready to leap when they heard that Andy Blankenbuehler, an acquaintance through NYCDA, was choreographing a Broadway revival of CATS. Though Krouse initially asked to audition just for the experience, they ended up booking the show. They spent their sophomore year doing double duty: full-time Juilliard student by day, Broadway feline by night. 

The show—and the (ill-starred) 2019 film, which Krouse booked some months later—marked both a professional and a personal turning point for Krouse. Wearing the full-face CATS makeup every day opened the door to further play with cosmetics, nail art, and fashion; playing a creature rather than a person allowed them freedom to explore the feminine qualities that had always been part of their dancing. 

“I started to think about, Who is Kolton Krouse?” they say. “After a lot of experimenting, everything morphed into this androgynous situation—the masculine and the feminine all bled into each other, in my dancing and offstage, too. And that’s when I found Kolton.”

Krouse dropped out of Juilliard in their senior year, after they were denied a deferral to accommodate the CATS film’s production schedule. They landed a few more high-profile commercial dance jobs—including, in a bit of foreshadowing, the FX series “Fosse/Verdon.” Finding another­ ­Broadway role proved more dif­­fi­cult. “It was really hard to get into the room as me,” Krouse says. “There were a couple projects where they said, ‘No, you can’t show up in makeup and heels.’ It felt like a constant battle.” Frustrated, they switched agencies in search of better support.

When COVID-19 shut the world down, Krouse moved back to Arizona and drifted—not not intentionally—away from dance. “I just figured I’d take the time to work on other things I’d always been curious about,” they say. They explored voice training and songwriting with the musician Mario Spinetti, a longtime friend, recording covers and filming music videos for fun. Watching Nathan Chen and Yuzuru Hanyu compete at the 2021 World Figure Skating Championships re-sparked Krouse’s childhood figure-skating dream, previously snuffed out by dance commitments. They started taking classes; a teacher channeled them toward ice dancing, where, unsurprisingly, they excelled. (You can see skating’s influence in their dancing today: the way they throw themselves up into a saut de basque as if it were an axel, the way they wrap their foot in coupé to increase their turning speed.)

In the fall of 2021, as theaters began to reopen, Krouse got the call for the DANCIN’ audition. “I was like, Bob Fosse? Yes. Immediately, yes,” they say. They’d grown up watching Cabaret, and had loved learning the nuances of Fosse style on “Fosse/Verdon.” “With Fosse, the intention is always so clear,” they say. “Even in more abstract pieces, it’s almost like a silent movie—the audience understands what the people they’re watching are feeling or thinking, and sees them as humans instead of characters.”

That emphasis on the humanity of the performers feels consistent with a more flexible approach to gender. “Bob was very forward-thinking in that way,” says Corinne McFadden Herrera, DANCIN’s associate director and musical stager, who also helped with choreographic reconstruction. “Already in Cabaret, in the ’60s and ’70s, he was creating characters with an androgynous fluidity.” The DANCIN’ team didn’t seek out gender-nonconforming performers or plan to cast roles against gender “type,” but they embraced the fullness of Krouse’s identity—and skill set. 

“If Bob had had a Kolton in his life, he would’ve loved it,” Cilento says. “He would never have hidden that talent.”

Though the show made little fanfare about its casting choices, it sat at the middle of a conversation unfolding across Broadway about how the industry can better include nonbinary performers. Onstage celebrations of artists like Some Like It Hot’s J. Harrison Ghee and & Juliet’s Justin David Sullivan belie ongoing concerns about gendered awards-show categories and casting processes. 

“I think change could be coming, and I think it’s definitely getting better with certain directors and choreographers, but it’s still really tricky,” Krouse says. They’ve been unsure, for example, about how to navigate recent calls for “female-presenting” and “male-presenting” performers. Usually they end up essentially auditioning twice. 

“If it feels right, you can show them the combo in a heel and then the second time do it in a flat,” they say. “It’s hard. But if they’re not allowing space for you, you have to make space for yourself.”

Eventually, Krouse hopes to carve out space in other fields, too. They’re still studying voice, and plan to return to skating at some point. You might see them onscreen someday, acting in a horror film (“Wouldn’t that be incredibly fun?”) or a superhero movie (“I could do all the stunts”). And they hope to walk in fashion week—a dream that, for a person seemingly born to wear heels, feels eminently attainable. 

The DANCIN’ cast included some of the best movers on Broadway, yet Krouse was repeatedly singled out by critics. (The New York Times review called them “the one with the face-slapping kicks,” an epithet since featured in Krouse’s Instagram bio.) That attention, Krouse says, was a nice surprise. But they were more excited about the visibility than the praise. 

“Honestly, I wouldn’t even have cared if everyone hated it, as long as I could connect with that one person who hadn’t seen themselves onstage before,” they say. “What I really want for my art is for people to come away from it saying, ‘That makes me want to be more me.’ ”

The post Kolton Krouse Blazes Their Own Trail On Broadway and Beyond appeared first on Dance Magazine.

A Hesitant Start:

“The very first time my mom asked me if I wanted to try ballet, I said no. I loved sports, and I thought ballet was really hard and the music was really boring. I cried the whole first week, but then I met a nice teacher and started to love it.”

Moving to a Different Country:

“The big challenge is language. Before I moved here in 2019, I couldn’t speak English at all. When COVID happened, I went back to Korea for almost a year and a half, and that’s when my English started getting better.”

Her Pre-Performance Routine:

“I do a lot of relevés and balances. Always before a show I’m really nervous, so that’s why I listen to something fun like K-pop music. Right now, I like the new girl group NewJeans.”

Getting Promoted to Soloist:

“The funny thing is, I had no idea. We had a meeting all together, and Kevin McKenzie said, ‘This is a promotion meeting.’ I sat down with my friends like, ‘Okay, someone is getting promoted.’ They call out Chloe Misseldine, Betsy McBride, Breanne Granlund, and Sung Woo Han, and then Kevin says, ‘SunMi.’ I was almost crying because I felt like it was a dream.”

A Career-Creating Moment:

“When I did the Moscow International Ballet Competition in 2017, the whole thing just changed my mind. I took my bow, came backstage, and my teacher asked me how I felt. I was really happy, and after that performance I knew I wanted this.”

The post ABT Soloist SunMi Park is Rocketing Through the Ranks appeared first on Dance Magazine.

What drew you to Sor Juana’s story?
Not everybody knows about Sor Juana. But so many scholars, authors, and artists continue to be inspired by her and her work. She is in our ethos.

Some people call Sor Juana the first feminist of the Americas. What she lived through, I feel, is still parallel to what women deal with today in facing dampening expectations. Sor Juana taught herself how to read at three, and during the Baroque era it wasn’t even common for women to go to school. She studied mathematics, philosophy, you name it. She was an artist at heart and composed music, wrote poetry, and crafted operas. She was radical.

I think about feminism and the world now, and how there’s so much censorship of people’s identities and voices—questioning people and their choices when all they want is to live authentically. So her story really resonates with what’s going on in the world today: Can I have permission to live as myself?

How did you approach her story choreographically?
It’s overwhelming but exciting—I mean, there’s no way to tell the fullness of her story in a 30-minute piece. I have been working with a dramaturg and scholar, Kiri Avelar, who is a dear friend of mine that worked here in the school.

I wanted this to be more than just a biography of her life. I like playing with vignettes that aren’t necessarily in a straight line or in the same time period. Some are in a surreal place, and others are more literal. I’m also hoping to bring in the company dancers’ voices and the things they’ve struggled with considering their own identities, letting them tap into that to bring this story into our time.

What does the result look and sound like?
The choreography is a fusion of contemporary dance, ballet, and modern. And with jumping around in time, the costuming and music are very intentional for each section. I’m using a variety of music: some Baroque, some more modern, and some in between. There’s also a piece in it that Sor Juana composed, and recordings of Sor Juana’s poetry throughout.

Lots of people came to see Sor Juana; two queens fell in love with her. So that fascination is what I’m trying to capture onstage. And her decision to take up the veil—the transformation into the nun, which was a decision she made to protect her ability to express herself during that time—is another story I wanted to tell.

How does Sor Juana connect to Ballet Hispánico’s larger mission?
One of the most important things for me is providing another example of what a Latinx contemporary dance voice can look like. I feel that sometimes, audiences aren’t sure what to expect, or they come in with stereotypes in their head. The best thing is when the curtain goes down, and there’s chatter. Or better yet, when there’s silence, an exhale, and then chatter: “Let’s talk about that.”

I feel like that’s what the arts do, right? And it goes beyond dance. Art opens the portal into questioning what we may have thought, or what we thought we knew when we walked into that moment. I believe thatBallet Hispánico does that every day.

The post At Ballet Hispánico, Michelle Manzanales Brings an Undertold Story to the Stage with <i>Sor Juana</i> appeared first on Dance Magazine.

It’s a lot for anyone to cope with, but especially those newer to the industry. What can you expect at auditions—and how can you cope with their unique pressures? I asked two experts to share their advice.

How to Audition Well

If you want proof that Shannon Lewis knows how to audition, just look at her resumé. She performed in 10 Broadway musicals, was a Radio City Rockette, and has danced on “The Today Show” and at the Tony Awards. Now, she’s on the other side of the table as a choreographer, director, and educator. Through her experience in the industry, she has discovered various tools for auditioning well.

First, recognize that the people at the front of the room want you to succeed. “I want everyone to come in and blow me away,” Lewis says. “I am actively wanting you to be the best you can possibly be and to have the best day ever.” Rather than looking at casting directors and choreographers as scary judges, see them as cheerleaders, and your energy will become more inviting and magnetic.

Second, the best way to enter auditions feeling confident and prepared is by honing your skills in class, fine-tuning technique and learning to pick up choreography.  “That’s where dancers build their toolbox throughout their entire careers,” she says. “So when you’re in the room and the choreographer wants a triple that stops on five, you can do that, because you have been working on it yourself.”

Third, build relationships through networking. “Someone will be more likely to take a chance on you if they know your work already,” she says. If you’re new to the professional dance world, a good place to start that process is the classroom. “If you really connect with a teacher, it’s great to be in that class as much as possible, because it will give you the chance to build a relationship,” Lewis says. “Loyalty and consistency are really important words in our world.”

Even if you go into auditions well-prepared, you’ll still likely face a lot of rejection. But remember that every experience is setting the groundwork for future opportunities. “Even if I’m auditioning someone for something they are completely not right for, if they come in the room and do an incredible job, I will absolutely remember them for the next thing I’m doing,” Lewis says.

How to Cope With the Emotional Strain of Auditioning

Terry Hyde, a UK-based psychotherapist and the founder of Counselling for Dancers, is also well-versed in the challenges of auditioning. Like Lewis, he started out as a performer, dancing with The Royal Ballet and London’s Festival Ballet (now English National Ballet), and performing in musicals in London’s West End.

I’ve worked with Hyde briefly myself as I’ve grappled with the myriad emotional challenges that come with returning to dance after 10 years of illness. Here are his tips for coping with the specific stresses of auditioning.

First, Hyde recommends taking 15 minutes to practice meditation as part of your daily routine. “This will prepare you to have a clear mindset on the day of your audition,” he says.

Next, he recommends finding a private space at the audition—a dressing room or bathroom—to do breathing exercises. Sit for five minutes and breathe slowly: inhale on the “and,” exhale on the “one,” inhale on the “and,” exhale on the “two,” until reaching the count of four; then reverse the count. “If any thoughts come into your mind as you do this, just tell them, ‘Hang on a minute, I want a quiet moment,’ ” Hyde says.

Hyde also wants you to reframe words like “nerves” and “rejection.” “You have probably been told that butterflies and tension before a performance are nerves, but the physical feelings of anxiety are identical to the physical feelings of excitement,” Hyde says. Rather than saying “I’m so nervous,” before an audition, say “I’m so excited.” “Our minds are so powerful that they create the reality in which we live,” Hyde says.

If a dancer doesn’t book the job they are auditioning for, Hyde wants them to know that it’s not a true rejection of their talent or who they are. “Auditions aren’t rejections. They are very subjective,” he says. “You might not be what they are looking for, but that doesn’t mean you haven’t got talent.”

For more audition tools and advice from Lewis and Hyde, watch their full interviews in the latest “Begin Again” vlog over on Dance Magazine’s YouTube channel.

The post Begin Again: Auditioning With Confidence appeared first on Dance Magazine.

The latest result of their collaboration: Can’t I Keep Just One?, which premiered in March in San Francisco as part of Robert Moses’ Kin’s spring season, deals with truly harrowing subject matter. Performed in front of an excerpt of the video From Slavery to the White House, originally an evening-length production written and directed by Moses’ niece, Monica C. Moses, Can’t I Keep Just One? tells the story of an enslaved woman, Cora, who must go to great, horrifying lengths to ensure her baby is not sold, as her other children have been. “It’s heavy, but I’m glad it’s on the table,” says Bell. “I’m glad Robert is willing to go there—to make people think; to make people uncomfortable. He doesn’t just make pieces to make pieces.”

When Robert sends me videos, it’s like going into a closet of everything you’ve ever wanted and being like, “I’m gonna wear this jacket.” Often­ I will learn things and then splice them move for move, building my own transitions so that I’m a part of the piece instead of just reiterating what he’s already created.

I love gestures. Because I can add legs to them, I can make them faster, I can make them slower, I can repeat them. Sometimes, I tie them to words that the actress in the video is saying. Because it’s a lot to watch; it’s a lot to listen to; it’s a lot to comprehend. So I try to pull movement that can aid in the storytelling.

It’s not about the technique. It’s not about showing that I’ve been training since I was 3 years old—”Look, I can balance on one foot.” It’s about, how are you going to gel with the audience? That is the most important thing, making that connection.

I did a piece a few years ago [with Robert] called Black Woman, Black Girl. That was the first time that I was like, “Oh, it’s an emotional thing we’re trying to do here.” We’re not trying to wow people in the audience with dance; we’re trying to make people leave the theater changed.

To have Robert’s movement and splice in just a little bit of me, like a comma, it doesn’t feel like performing. It just feels like I’m having a conversation. I haven’t been able to experience that with any other company or any other performance. I’m literally going through something every time I do something with Robert. It’s deeper than dance.

It feels almost icky to bow at the end, and get the applause. You just want to let it resonate with people. It’s tough to put myself in the character’s shoes, and think that I am where I am today because of the sacrifices that other people before me were able to make.

The post Dancer Crystaldawn Bell on the Unconventional Process of Crafting Solos with Choreographer Robert Moses appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Company: Gibney Company

Age: 27

Hometown: Fresno, California

Training: The Dance Studio of Fresno, The Juilliard School

Well-rounded: Gittens was deeply influenced by Sue Sampson-Dalena, owner of The Dance Studio of Fresno. “Sue is a powerhouse of a woman and always encouraged us to study all forms of dance: ballet, jazz, tap, African, and modern,” she says. “They have all informed my way of dancing.”

Transferable skills: During her teen years, Gittens honed her skills on the competition and convention circuit. “It was wonderful, especially the convention world,” she says. “You take multiple classes a day and learn so much material; it prepares you for creation-based work in a company.”

Mentorship: Peter Chu has mentored Gittens since she was 16. She launched her career with chuthis., his project-based company, and guested with the group most recently in 2022. “Miriam’s physical brilliance—her control, ease, and potency—is an enigma,” says Chu. “Her unassuming approach to how she crafts her artistry is exceptionally genuine.”

Building her repertory: After graduating from Juilliard, Gittens­ joined Canada’s Ballet BC as an emerging artist and danced with the company for four years, performing works by Aszure Barton, William Forsythe, Emily Molnar, and Crystal Pite, as well as Eyal + Behar, Inger, and Naharin. “I learned and grew so much more than I expected to,” she says. “We were thrown in, which was so bene­fi­cial. We were all so hungry.”

Back in the New York groove: After joining Gibney Company in 2022, Gittens quickly felt at home during one of her first performances dancing Inger’s Bliss. “I was back in New York where I spent my formative years with a new group of people and a new understanding of myself,” she says.

What her director is saying: Gibney Company director Gilbert T Small II continues to be impressed by Gittens. “Miriam has the technical prowess of a seasoned artist but is never bound or limited by her technique,” says Small. “She inspires the whole company and levels up the room. I believe she will be one of our future leaders.”
Her love of improvising: “I like diving into a direction that feels unnatura­l ­and finding my way back to center,” says Gittens. “I need to make sure that I’m not too comfortable.”

What drives her: “I want to continue to trust myself, understanding myself as a human in the studio and not leaving who I am as a person behind,” she says. “That is a vulnerable place to be: to bring my full self into each studio, each performance, each creation process.”

Spreading joy: When she’s not dancing, Gittens loves to bake—”mostly cookies and cakes,” she says. “It’s therapeutic, and I love bringing what I make to people I work with.”

The post Meet Gibney Company’s Miriam Gittens appeared first on Dance Magazine.

This is the central contradiction in Olshanskyi’s­ life now, more than a year into Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, the country where he was born and where he lived and worked until February of 2022. His social media reflects this, with posts that flip between news about the war and videos of rehearsals at the company studios in Miami Beach or of his latest home-cooked meal (he is a skilled cook).

Olshanskyi is from Kremenets, a pretty city with a population of 20,000 in Western Ukraine known for its 12th-century fortress on a hill. Neither of his parents is a dancer, but both he and his older brother Valeriy began training at an early age. His brother grew up to be a longtime member of the Virsky Ukrainian National Folk Dance Ensemble. At age 9, Stanislas, or Stas, as he is known, departed, alone, for the Kyiv State Choreographic School to study ballet. “I don’t remember anything about that first year,” he says. “I think I blocked it out. One of the teachers told me later that I used to sit on the stairs and cry because I missed my mom.” It was also during his time at the school that he first heard Russian spoken.

It’s surprising to anyone who has seen him dance, but Olshanskyi wasn’t a particularly motivated student, he says, nor was he encouraged by his teachers. “I had to fight with my body every day. I was not flexible and I did not have muscles. I was very, very skinny.” He was told that even if he managed to get hired he would probably be stuck in the corps his whole career.

But he persevered. “I like a challenge,” he says. And on graduation, though not taken by the national ballet company in Kyiv, he did find a spot at the Lviv National Opera House, a smaller and slightly less prestigious troupe in the west of the country, at the age of 17. (He’s now 29.)

Despite his teacher’s prediction, he was soon given the opportunity to dance principal roles, usually when another dancer was injured. Four years later, in 2016, he was invited to join the National Ballet of Ukraine in Kyiv, under the tutelage of the noted teacher and former star dancer Viktor Yaremenko. Olshanskyi says Yaremenko helped him to see his own potential and to begin to visualize what he could be. In the years that followed, he danced practically all of the classical repertoire, from Basilio in Don Quixote to Lucien in Paquita and Solor in La Bayadère, a favorite role.

The move to Miami City Ballet, which he joined in November of last year, would probably never have happened but for the calamity of the war. When the invasion began, in February of 2022, Olshanskyi was dancing in the Netherlands in a touring show, I, Igone de Jongh, featuring the Dutch ballerina of the same name, a former star of the Dutch National Ballet. He and his fellow Ukrainian dancer Oleksii Tiutiunnyk had been hired through de Jongh’s management company and an agent in Ukraine. They partnered de Jongh in several pas de deux.

For months, Russian troops had been massing on the border of Ukraine. “The night before the invasion,” remembers Olshanskyi, “we invited some friends over for dinner and talked about the situation. We were hopeful there would be no war. The next morning I woke up with Oleksii in my room saying, ‘The war has started, they are bombing Kyiv.’ ”

Unsure of what to do, they spent days without going out, in constant contact with family and friends back home. Eventually, they made the difficult decision to stay in the Netherlands and continue dancing, and to try to contribute to the war effort from abroad. They performed in benefit galas and began purchasing protective equipment to send to their friend and fellow dancer Oleksii Poti­omkin, who had become a medic with the Ukrainian army, through the help of someone they knew who was involved in relief efforts.

When de Jongh made the ambitious decision to try to create a company in the Netherlands made up of Ukrainian refugee dancers, Olshanskyi and Tiutiunnyk, with Dutch theater impresario Matthijs Bongertman, helped locate and contact Ukrainian dancers scattered all over Europe. That group became the United Ukrainian Ballet, which recently toured to Washington, DC, with Alexei Ratmansky’s staging of Giselle.

Olshanskyi was one of the men chosen by Ratmansky to perform the role of Albrecht (“Albert” in Ratmansky’s production) on tour. It is not difficult to see why: Olshanskyi’s interpretation is touchingly pure, sensitive, affecting. His is a young man heart-breakingly in love, and his dancing is glorious; unforced and cleanly classical, imbued with a kind of easy grace.

The last year has not been easy. In September, Oleksandr­ Shapoval, a colleague with whom Olshanskyi­ had shared a dressing room for two years, was killed by mortar fire on the battlefield in Donetsk. “It was very hard for me,” says Olshanskyi. “He was older than me and though we were never buddies, I knew him very well. We had some deep conversations about life things.” At times he has felt guilt about not being back in Ukraine, facing the threat shoulder to shoulder with his countrymen. And he misses home. Not so much Kyiv, to his surprise, but the town of his childhood, Kremenets, where his parents still live.

Last fall, in Amsterdam, he felt the need for more structure, a boss, company classes, with ballet masters to push him or praise him when he was doing something right. So when Lourdes Lopez, the artistic director of Miami City Ballet, approached him through his former schoolmate and National Ballet of Ukraine colleague Yuliia Moskalenko, who also joined last year, he was open, despite initial reservations. “It’s so far,” he remembers thinking, “another world.”

Now he’s in Miami, living just a few blocks from the ocean. He’s eager to take on the ballets of George Balanchine, which he had never performed—or even seen—before now. In December, just one month after arriving, he danced in The Nutcracker, with Dawn Atkins. “In one rehearsal I was telling him the way in which we should do our arm movements, fitting with a Balanchine­ aesthetic, and he just smiled and said ‘Okay,’ ” says Atkins. “It wasn’t what he was used to, but he was very willing to try!” More recently, he learned the pas de deux from Agon from Amar Ramasar, a former New York City Ballet dancer who is staging it at the company. “He learned it in a day,” says Ramasar. “I was shocked. He has this openness, and he’s so musical, so he gets all the counts. But there’s also a feeling and a thought process that goes with each step. And he got that in a split second.”

“I love it. Wow,” says Olshanskyi, with visible pleasure, of Agon. “I think Balanchine was really smart and had a lot of fun when he was choreographing.” He’s enjoying not playing a character, but rather finding his own voice through the steps. “You’re not Albrecht. You’re not Conrad. It’s you, Stanislav Olshanskyi, being yourself in this.”

And though he feels lonely at times and far from home, he also feels he is among friends. “The thing about Stas,” Lopez says, “is that he likes people and enjoys being around them. He was making funny jokes in English almost immediately.”

“They are like a family,” Olshanskyi says of the Miami City Ballet dancers. “Almost every single person came to introduce themselves and said that if I needed anything, to let them know.” He reads from a note left in his dressing room by a fellow company member: “ ‘Perhaps it will be hard for this place to feel like home, but know that you are welcome here.’ ”

The post Ukrainian Dancer Stanislav Olshanskyi Finds His Place at Miami City Ballet appeared first on Dance Magazine.

As they prepared for the leadership transition, Johnson and Garland spoke with Dance Magazine about their deep, shared history with DTH, their commitment to continuing the work of Arthur Mitchell, and their hopes for the future of Dance Theatre of Harlem’s company and school. 

What were your early experiences working together?

Robert Garland: For a memorial for a friend we lost during the AIDS epidemic, I choreographed a solo for Virginia to a Stevie Wonder song. It was kind of a precursor to my ballet Higher Ground.

Virginia Johnson: It was a wonderful, wonderful piece. But that wasn’t the first thing that you’d choreographed.

RG: It was the first I choreographed for you. I had done some work at Juilliard. I thought of Virginia in my early choreography, because she was a part of beautiful theatrical works at DTH, like Fall River Legend, which is a masterpiece. Our Creole Giselle is another masterpiece, and I think that our Streetcar Named Desire was a masterpiece as well. The work of that time definitely influenced my early ideas; we were doing a lot of opera house dancing then, so that’s how I grew up.

VJ: That’s so interesting, that insight of you understanding DTH in the context of the opera house and the narrative ballets that I was doing. When you came to do Return, Arthur Mitchell said to you…

RG: “Lights and tights.” I had done a ballet called Crossing Over that was quite beautiful…

VJ: It was beautiful. It had a set, it had costume changes.

RG: But it was horrifically expensive. At the time, I had a lot of people in my ear, other than Arthur Mitchell, telling me what they thought was best, and I unfortunately listened. When it came to Return, he was like, “Lights and tights. That’s all you get, young man.” That’s actually where he was from, being a Balanchine dancer.

I love George Balanchine. And I love City Center. If you look at his work from that era, in terms of resources, Balanchine was a genius. I tried to copy him, as a creator. Virginia has another perspective as a manager and director.

VJ: This is something that is very, very serious. Dance Theatre of Harlem has had a history of ups and downs. We have a really brilliant executive director Anna Glass right now who’s managing how to make sure that we never stumble again. 

It is a constant reality that you have your desires, your dreams, your expectations—and then you have your reality. You better keep those two things balanced. I appreciate that Anna understands that the bottom line is important, but the art is important as well. Sometimes you have to make a choice that’s not friendly to the bottom line, because the art needs it. You do the other, too, of course.

RG: Exactly. I purposely did a small cast for a work I did recently for San Francisco Ballet. Everyone had a chance to dance, and they loved having that opportunity. Even though we’re in this under-resourced space, you make things happen.

Will you continue to choreograph?

RG: I would like to. I have a particular style that I think is good for the dancers of this organization. But there are other considerations as well. I don’t want to lose the Balanchine legacy here, or our classical legacy of Karel Shook and Frederic Franklin. It’s going to be a balancing act.

Virginia, you agreed to come back to lead Dance Theatre of Harlem in 2009 after having retired from the stage in 1997 and having launched and edited Pointe magazine. What brought you back?

VJ: When Arthur Mitchell set you to a task—and this is something that Robert knows so well—you make sure you do it. When he said to me, “Your job is to bring the company back,” then that was my job.

Dance Theatre of Harlem had not been on the stage in people’s minds for almost 10 years. So just creating that entity again was the most important thing.

And, of course, finding the dancers. Later on, it dawned on me that my experience was very much like Arthur Mitchell’s had been when he created Dance Theatre of Harlem in 1969. You have dancers from all over, with all kinds of disparate training, that you have to make into a unified company. 

How was the company different than before the hiatus?

VJ: In 2004, there were 44 dancers. We had national and international tours, we had theater cases, and we had a truck and a sprung floor on that truck. It was a very luxurious enterprise—and so many dancers. There were generations of dancers in the company at that point. When we came back, we had to build a new repertoire because we were so much smaller than the original company—we were 18 dancers. 

How has the company since evolved?

VJ: One of the reasons that we’re doing this baton passing is that now we have a company that exists again. I looked at the company in 2019 and I realized that the dancers needed new challenges, they needed another vision. Robert is the perfect person to step into that place.

How are you similar and different as leaders?

VJ: I think the male/female thing is real. It’s an essential difference. It doesn’t mean that we are typically either one or the other, but there’s a different way of being in the world being male and being female.

RG: I think we’re similar in being able to anticipate things. Because we’ve worked here over the years, we know what the potential pitfalls are before they happen.

And, actually, I’m a traditionalist. Virginia has done a great job at expanding the horizon of what the artists experience here. I’m not quite as experimental, but I will be trying to keep that up, so stay tuned!

VJ: There’s also a difference in that Robert is a choreographer. He’s used to working with dancers and making sure that his intention is understood and fulfilled. That’s going to be a wonderful new thing for dancers to experience.

How is the leadership transition happening? 

VJ: We talk about how things are going and where there are gaps. I’m not saying, “You should do this,” but if something comes to me, I’ll think: I’ve got to tell Robert about this, because­ he’s going to be blindsided if he doesn’t know.

RG: I did have the opportunity to watch Mr. Mitchell for years, as well. That also prepared me quite a bit. And I’m going to be really crazy and say that I find running the school more challenging than the company.

VJ: As he says now…

RG: Well, let me just say the school is its own thing. I don’t want to jinx myself.

With the company, you won’t have parents involved…

RG: Yes, there is that element, where you have people who are paying money that express their expectations.

VJ: They’re now called presenters. 

[Dissolves into laughter.] 

RG: That was good, Virginia! Presenters as the new parents.

Virginia, what will be next for you?

VJ: Sleep! I haven’t had a minute to really dig down deep into what’s happening next for me. I like to say I’m looking forward to being an artist again, rather than an arts administrator. That’s going to be a completely different experience, solving smaller problems on a much more basic level.

Did it surprise you how much of that was required for the job?

VJ: Well, Caitlin, you know that being at Pointe was really an education. And so I was not surprised at how much other stuff besides the art I had to deal with—and I was grateful for that experience.

Would you agree that the mission of DTH seems increasingly important in the current cultural and political climate?

VJ: This idea, I think it’s an important one, because I don’t see ballet or the company’s work as being separate from the world that we’re living in. In fact, I think that we have a purpose to keep people steady in this climate. That’s an essential part of what we’re doing.

RG: Dance can be put into the “it’s an ephemeral thing that no one should be thinking about in this time” category. But I do believe, as Arthur Mitchell said, that “the arts ignite the mind, they give you the possibility to dream and to hope.”

There are things that impact us, like gentrification. In my day­, you could live in Harlem in a three-bedroom apartment for $150 a month. Now there are families in Harlem moving out because it’s too expensive. It’s here, it’s Philadelphia, it’s any urban center where Black people have been for generations. In our school, we now have more Caucasian or white students, and we have many more West Indian students and African students. That’s been fascinating.

Equity has a price tag, and that’s the part that no one wants to talk about. We’ve had lots of panels, and we talked about everything, but there’s a price tag. I’m hoping that what the DEI conversation will produce is a cabinet-level arts person. That is a real aspiration and it just makes sense.

Do you find that the conversation about DEI has not turned into funding?

RG: It has not, because most of the solutions have been representational. I’m all for representation—you know I love the Obamas. But there has to be some support behind it. We, as an organization, have unfortunately been under-resourced as compared to our competitors for decades. It’s still a struggle, and it shouldn’t be at this point in time.

VJ: People have come to think of Dance Theatre of Harlem as some kind of exception. When Arthur Mitchell created this enterprise, it was really to be a model for what an arts organization should be.

People celebrate us and love us, but they haven’t taken on that idea that being important in your community, being a trailblazer in the art, and being an institution of training are things that every company should do. I want DTH to be the example, not the difference. So, while the need for an institution like Dance Theatre of Harlem remains very true, I also wish sincerely that we had more people copying what we’re doing. Rather than thinking “DTH can do it,” instead thinking “I should do this too.”

What are your thoughts on the idea of legacy?

VJ: I care not one shred about my own legacy. You do what you love, you do it as long as you can, you try to make a difference, and you try to create something.

We are carrying Arthur Mitchell’s vision forward. He was a brilliant individual, a tireless visionary. It’s a legacy that’s bigger than one person, in terms of the ideas that he started and what he wanted to create in the world. It’s still to be realized. That’s to me what this should be about—less about the person in the role and more about the work that needs to happen and how it can happen.

It’s clear that Arthur Mitchell’s ideas continue to be at the heart of this organization.

RG: Definitely. It was his body. The body of color in this country has been the site of some really bad things and some really beautiful things. And his body was dedicated to this space, first to George Balanchine and then to Dance Theatre of Harlem, and I take all that very seriously.

We’re a unique organization in terms of our whole trajectory, culturally, in our community and artistically. Twenty-five years ago, people didn’t understand that you could have an artistic vision and a social vision in the same space. Arthur Mitchell often heard, “Arthur, is it a community-based organization or is it a ballet company?” The newer generations get it; it’s no longer anathema to have this high art form in a place where it heretofore did not exist.

Is your hope to cultivate future leaders from within the organization?

VJ: Arthur Mitchell really was about modeling the future, so developing leadership from within to carry these ideas forward is an essential part of what he was creating.

RG: There are a lot of leaders today who were Arthur Mitchell protégés: Melanie Person at Ailey, Alicia Graf Mack at Juilliard, Dionne Figgins at Ballet Tech, Endalyn Taylor Outlaw at University of North Carolina School of the Arts, and Theresa Ruth Howard at MoBBallet, to name a few.

What are your priorities for DTH?

RG: One priority is to create a space, in the daytime, for dancers that really want to aspire to be the best to work on their ballet technique. That will not only give dancers to our company but also to the field. And, of course, to develop choreographers that have a consciousness of the mission of the Dance Theatre of Harlem.

VJ: DTH is a touring company, which is a very special entity in this world right now. It affects the way that we work and the kinds of works that we can do. And so, we want to dig down deep into how to make that a more effective way to reach people around the country and around the world.

If anything was possible for this company, what would you like to see?

RG: I would like a larger company, and a larger New York season.

VJ: Dance Theatre of Harlem forever. It must continue, and thrive, and become more and more, and be that beacon. It really must. 

The post Dance Theatre of Harlem’s New Leadership: A Conversation With Virginia Johnson and Robert Garland appeared first on Dance Magazine.

How did you get started in dance?

I arrived here on the earth in Rochdale Village, Queens. My mom says that I just never stopped dancing. I wound up in a little local neighborhood school where all of my other little girlfriends from Rochdale Village went, run by Joan Millen Mesh, who I believe was a graduate of Juilliard—and she was a Black woman. 

Miss Joan had a group of advanced dancers who were quite accomplished. When I was 9 years old, my mother got a call from Miss Joan, who wanted me to start taking class with the advanced dancers. I was this little kid and they were teenagers, so I became, like, the mascot. Miss Joan told my mother about the School of American Ballet. I went to SAB for four years. 

How was that transition?

I went from being in a predominantly Black environment to being­ in a predominantly white environment. This was 1987. I had heard that ballet was a European art form; my own exposure to it, though, had been with Black people. Even when I got there and social issues started to happen—I didn’t understand. I didn’t have the language to express what I was feeling.

When my mother said, “You can give up,” it wasn’t what I wanted to hear. One day she said, “You are going to have to be so good that they can’t help but look at you.” And that was the end of the discussion.

How was your experience at SAB?

After not getting cast in Nutcracker and knowing in my head that I had the potential to be Marie, it hit me that they didn’t see me the way they saw everyone else. It was a shattering experience. I was 10 at the time. 

I had also taken classes at Ailey, and my mother had maintained a communication with Denise Jefferson, who ran The Ailey School. She told my mother about Madame Gabriela Darvash, a Romanian immigrant who had trained at the Kirov Ballet. At 14, I left SAB and went to train with Madame, as we called her. The studio was very Black-friendly. There were all kinds of people at her studio. 

Under Madame’s guidance, I could let go of that constant self-awareness. She would force me to stand in the front of the classroom. And it was after SAB—where it was the opposite. I had already been through hell. I was grateful for Madame’s attention and her tough love, and I could see that she was extremely intelligent. 

What brought you to Dance Theatre of Harlem?

While I was still at LaGuardia High School, I auditioned for Dance Theatre of Harlem, when they still had a second company. I actually met Robert Garland for the first time at Madame Darvash’s. Then we both found ourselves at Dance Theatre of Harlem. He said to me once, “Nobody gives a damn about watching you dance. They want to see themselves through you.” It was one of the best pieces of advice I ever got—that, to a certain extent, you have to get out of the way in order to dance.

After 12 years touring with DTH, in 2006 you joined Boston Ballet. What was dancing for that company like?

I got into the company and I realized the gift of the context that Mr. Mitchell had created. Boston Ballet is an extraordinary company. But there wasn’t a common ethos that bound us together. Mr. Mitchell constantly said you are in service to something much larger than yourself, impressing upon us that people were looking up to us, and that we were role models setting an example for future generations. Other places weren’t necessarily driven by that. It all seemed so small to me.

Can you share your vision for the school as an extension of Arthur Mitchell’s legacy and your role in it?

I think about Mr. Mitchell every day and what he achieved. I’ve had a lifetime in dance because of the opportunities that he provided. He inspired so many, to be in this position feels like a huge honor.

He created a family. And I hope to as well. When I go back to that building it is like rejoining a part of my family… my dance family. I want to preserve Mr. Mitchell’s vision of providing a space for Black and brown dancers to thrive. But, just as was always the legacy of DTH, it has to be everybody. Like a lot of Black families, we have people of every color and shade. 

Inclusivity is about making everyone feel seen and valued, not just for being a dancer but for being a person. Not everybody is going to be a professional dancer, but everybody can benefit from it. Dancing is its own reward.

I definitely want to reopen the pathway to a professional career. We don’t have a professional training program anymore, and we don’t have a second company. I also want to help people reconnect to their own capacity to heal, their own capacity to feel joy, because I want to inspire beauty and creativity.

The post Tai Jimenez on Leading the DTH School appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Arthur Mitchell created Dance Theatre of Harlem in New York City in 1969. Mitchell had made history as the first Black principal dancer at New York City Ballet, where he danced from 1956–69, with Balanchine creating ballets on him, notably roles in Agon and A Midsummer Night’s Dream. When Mitchell heard of the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. on the radio while in Brazil in 1968, he decided to return home to start a dance school in Harlem. He enlisted the mentorship of Balanchine and the partnership of dance teacher Karel Shook.

Mitchell started the DTH School in a converted garage in Harlem, followed by the touring company, of which Virginia Johnson was a founding member. Mitchell created a haven for dancers of all colors who craved training, performance experience, and an opportunity to excel in classical ballet. 

Though DTH began touring in 1969, it had its official New York City debut in 1971 at the Guggenheim Museum, with chamber ballets choreographed by Mitchell. With Mitchell’s­ vision,­ the guidance of Balanchine, who gave Mitchell­ access­ and rights to perform his ballets, and the partnership of Shook, the foundation of the company was laid. In addition to commis­sion­ing works from Black choreographers (he named Robert Garland as DTH’s first resident choreographer in 1995), Mitchell­ updated classical ballets, such as with Creole Giselle, staged by Frederic Franklin and set in 19th-century­ Louisiana, and John Taras’ Firebird, set in a lush jungle. 

In its more than 50-year history, DTH has received international acclaim, performing in 44 states, 250 cities in North America, and in 40 countries on 6 continents. DTH’s pioneering efforts to integrate stages and spread the art of ballet through outreach programs at home and abroad made it a beacon for Black dancers worldwide. In 2004, the company went on hiatus because of financial challenges, and in 2009, Mitchell asked Johnson to bring the company back. Over the past 13 years, Johnson has led the company’s renaissance.

Watching DTH today, the impact of this trailblazing organization is clear. From its diverse international dancers to the dynamic classical and contemporary repertory, the many stars who began their careers with DTH now dancing in ballet companies around the world, and its reemergence in the global ballet scene, the company reflects today what Johnson exalts as “the prevailing sense of self-affirmation behind DTH” that was integral to Mitchell’s vision.

The impact of Dance Theatre of Harlem extends far beyond the stage. The company represents the amalgamation of culture present in evolving art forms and what it looks like when the reality of a diverse country is in fact exalted in its most expressive art form. Art, like that of DTH, is indeed the resistance to the facade of elitism representing only a portion of the population and culture. As Virginia Johnson passes the torch to Robert Garland to become the third artistic director in the company’s 54-year history, she leaves the organization poised to expand upon Arthur Mitchell’s extraordinary vision. 

The post Dance Theatre of Harlem’s Enduring Impact appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Calvin Royal III & Jacek Mysinski

A member of American Ballet Theatre since 2010 and a principal dancer since 2020, Calvin Royal III is known for elegant, princely performances. His husband, Jacek Mysinski, a Juilliard-trained musician and native of Warsaw, Poland, is a company pianist for ABT.

How They Met

When ABT was seeking new pianists 10 years ago, Mysinski’s audition included playing during a rehearsal for Balanchine’s Theme and Variations. Afterwards, Royal approached the piano and introduced himself. “The sun shone on me when he walked up,” Mysinski remembers. When ABT hired Mysinski the following year, the two reconnected and soon began dating. They tied the knot in 2021.

Though their careers are distinct, the work is interwoven and has deepened their bond. “The fact that we get to perform together and share our gifts, not just with the world but with each other—it’s as though there is some sort of invisible thread between us,” says Royal. “His music is the pulse and inspiration behind everything I do onstage.” Mysinski is equally as inspired by Royal. “Even when we don’t perform together, I can close my eyes and imagine Calvin’s movement or phrasing and correspond with it,” he says.

Supporting Each Other

Royal and Mysinski each have a front-row seat to the demands of their spouse’s career. “I see him work through all the varied types of rep that he has to have under his belt—when my day ends, he has to go home and prepare for the next day of rehearsals,” Royal says. “He sees me deal with the physicality, the exhaustion and the countless hours of pushing myself.” Royal notes that Mysinski has at times helped him get through a challenging rehearsal: “When we come back from a holiday, I can ask him to slow down the tempo a little while I try to get back into it.”

Wendy Whelan & David Michalek

A longtime principal dancer with New York City Ballet, Wendy Whelan was named the company’s associate artistic director in 2019. Her husband, David Michalek, started as a photographer working in fashion, entertainment and celebrity portraits in Los Angeles before branching into live performance and film. “I am what I call a project-ician,” says Michalek.

How They Met

When Michalek was hired as the photographer for a Lear’s magazine story on the 1993 film version of George Balanchine’s The Nutcracker, he prepped by purchasing ballet music to use during the photo shoot. “I’d never met any sort of elite ballet dancer, and I was excited about the opportunity,” he says.

Whelan was taken aback when she entered the studio. “I saw the most handsome man I had ever seen in my life,” she says. When she went to change into costume, music from Firebird began to play. “She came out with her Nutcracker costume on, put her hands on her hips, tilted her head and asked me why we were listening to this music,” says Michalek, who told her it was ballet music and that he thought it might get her in the right mood. Whelan’s response? “I know what music this is, and I don’t know what kind of mood you want me in, but I don’t want to hear this. I hear it all day at work.” The two shared a laugh, and by the end of the shoot Whelan’s sense of humor had charmed him. “She was kind and generous,” he says. Eventually the two exchanged numbers, became friends, fell in love and built a life together in New York City.

Sharing Perspectives

Despite having distinct artistic pursuits, Whelan and Michalek have deepened their knowledge about each other’s work over the years. “We come from different ways of thinking, but they inform each other,” says Whelan. “I love his intelligent and unique perspective.” Learning about a different art form has benefited both partners. “Giving David feedback has really shaped my eye,” says Whelan. “He has helped me look deeper and see shapes, lines and energy.”

Whelan and Michalek also support each other when faced with professional criticism. “When I was dancing and would get a negative review in the paper or news, David would jump to my aid by sharing what he saw in my performance, and what he knew was there,” Whelan says. “He would reinforce the point that it was just one opinion, and that I couldn’t forget who I really am as an artist.” To bolster her confidence, Michalek would send Whelan music to listen to before going onstage. “He has always offered me support through other art forms,” she says.

Because they are both deeply committed to their work, striking balance can be a challenge. “At times we have to find gracious ways of saying we are involved with something right now,” says Michalek, “and can’t be as receptive­ to the other’s work as we’d like.” Whelan describes it in terms of a love affair. “David’s girlfriend is art and my boyfriend is dance,” she says. “Thankfully, we are both understanding and don’t take offense.”

Finding Inspiration

Their artistic pursuits overlapped in one particularly spectacular project: Michalek’s 2007 Slow Dancing, an oversized slow-motion video that’s a unique portrait of Whelan. “The essence of dance is movement,” he says. “I wanted to bring some element of time into the portrait, without making a film in any traditional sense. I imagined an intersection of still photography and film and arrived at this very slow-moving­ image.” After creating Whelan’s film/portrait, Michalek expanded the work to include dancers from a variety of backgrounds and traditions. “It became­ a celebration of the human spirit in dance,” he says. “But as many things do for me, it stemmed from my desire to work with Wendy.”

Al Blackstone & Abraham Lule

Emmy-award winning choreographer Al Blackstone charms audiences with his playful, emotive storytelling on “So You Think You Can Dance” and in his own original dance narratives, like Freddie Falls in Love. His husband, Abraham Lule, was raised by his dance teacher mother in Mexico and initially had his own studio, Top Dance, where he taught for 10 years while studying graphic design. They currently reside in New York City, where Lule’s design firm focuses on packaging and branding for wine and spirits and the hospitality industry. Using their unique talents and shared passion for dance, the two created MOMEN NYC, which includes an intensive dance experience for adults.

How They Met

Blackstone and Lule, who were married this past December, first connected via a dating app eight years ago. “It’s a funny story,” Blackstone says. “I didn’t know Abraham had dance experience when I met him, and when he told me, I ghosted him.” Because Blackstone’s parents owned a dance studio and his sister and all of his friends were dancers, he decided he wanted more balance in his life. Two years later, after following Lule’s design work on Instagram, he realized his mistake and messaged Lule to reconnect.

Supporting Creativity

Blackstone credits his spouse with being the perfect sounding board for ideas, as well as a safe space to process feelings about dance. “He is someone I can vent to, who really gets it,” he says. When Blackstone choreographs a new work, Lule contributes the design elements. “I appreciate having someone so visual with such amazing taste in my corner,” says Blackstone. “He’s broadened not only my choreography but the costumes, the lighting, the branding and more.”
Lule relies on Blackstone’s eye for feedback on his work, as well. “Albert is often the only person I can bounce ideas off, or show my presentations to,” he says. “He is kind of like my editor in chief.”

Finding Balance

The two are similarly devoted to demanding careers, and Blackstone’s work involves frequent travel. “One year I was gone 150 days,” he says. “It’s difficult to be with someone who has a career like that. Sometimes I worried that our relationship would suffer because of it.”

Although they have invested effort into finding work–life balance, Blackstone and Lule appreciate each other’s dedication. “I used to be so invested in my work that I didn’t want to date anyone,” says Lule. “When I did date, I wanted to find someone as focused on their career as I was. Albert was certainly qualified for that.”

In their downtime, they are fueled by their love of the arts. “We see movies together, we talk about books—even our apartment is a creative space to live,” Blackstone says. “To share a life with someone who also requires inspiration, ideas and expression is amazing.”

The post How Three Dancer-Artist Duos Navigate Marriage and Career appeared first on Dance Magazine.

“I was really fortunate that when I immi­grated to the States, my parents picked a neighborhood that had exposure to magnet-school systems,” says Sorzano, whose formal dance training began at age 8, when her family moved from the Republic of Trinidad and Tobago to Miami. “My parents didn’t know anything about the arts in terms of it being a profession, but they always supported me.” Sorzano embraced every style that came her way, including ballet, jazz and modern. “Finding that common language of being able to speak fluently through movement probably comes from the code-switching that I had to do as an immigrant,” she says.

As Sorzano gained more professional experience, her identity as an immigrant and as a Black woman continued to inform her work as a performer and, eventually, as a teacher and choreographer. “I had worked with more male choreographers as a performer, and it didn’t always occur to me that I also had a voice,” Sorzano says of her start as a dancemaker. “Doing BLACK GIRL: Linguistic Play with Camille A. Brown and having this brilliant Black woman be brave and say, ‘I want to tell our stories,’ it also gave me additional confidence that we need more equitable representation on that stage. Camille would often say to us, ‘You’re dancing it; I want to see you.’ That unlearning of the step and giving myself space to ask those questions of ‘How would you do this, Yusha? What is your story?’ That’s an ongoing journey for me.”

An Early Start:

“I was still living in Trinidad, and there was a dance competition at my school. I remember being onstage and looking at these two students next to me who started doing the running man. I mimicked them and I won. My dad saw me onstage and said, ‘This is you, this is who you are.’ ”

Making a Move:

“I was going the route of classical ballet until I saw the Ailey company. When I saw them hit the stage, I was like, ‘There I am! That’s where I need to go.’ And it just so happened that when I was applying to college, Ailey/Fordham was in their third year of the BFA program.”

Turning Injury Into Inspiration:

“When I ruptured my Achilles in 2017, it was a huge identity crisis, because who was I if I wasn’t a performer anymore? And it was through that that I started to create. To All Our Ends was my first work that I felt really came out of my cultural experience, my identity.”

Her Advice to Dancers:

“A lot of us feel like we have to keep going, going, going. But that leads to burnout. It’s not natural to be able to generate on that high of a level and expect that your voice is going to be cutting-edge and authentic. I think it’s important to remind dancers—all of us, really—that we need to slow down to make space for ourselves.”

Dancing for the President:

“I was performing with the Ailey company in DC, and Barack Obama had just become president. I remember walking to the backstage area at The Kennedy Center and seeing the metal detectors. After the curtain came down in the Yellow section in Revelations, the door opens, and here comes Barack Obama strolling through; I was just thinking, ‘What is happening right now?’ ”

Guiding the Next Generation:

“Teaching consistently gives me space to create and to guide. I’ve taught everyone from five-year-old’s to now teaching college students. I also teach many techniques, which has helped me to weave together my choreographic language.”

Taking a Break:

“Maybe it’s the upbringing I had—my parents were not artists—but when it comes time to disconnect, I am the opposite of dance. It’s a podcast or films, I try to read, I’m just the person who hangs out at the house.”

Continuing the Work:

“All of these things that we’ve been working on in terms of equity and inclusion, we have to then forge a new language that allows for us to create new words. Of course, there’s a learning curve for all of us, but it should not fall to the people that have been othered to keep reminding people to do this work. This is an ongoing conversation, and we have to be comfortable with being uncomfortable, because it is uncomfortable work to address when something is inequitable, when it’s racist, when it’s sexist. Those things require consistent work, and I hope we can be brave.”

The post Yusha-Marie Sorzano’s Identity as an Immigrant and Black Woman Informs Her Work as a Performer, Teacher, and Choreographer appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Companies: Red Sauce and Ghetto-Style hip-hop collectives

Age: 26

Hometown: Paris, France

Training: Hip-hop with Kanon Zouzoua, of Ghetto-Style collective; bharatanatyam with Anthusha Uthayakumar, from Bharathothaya

Discovering dance: Ten years ago, a friend took Jey to a hip-hop class where she realized her love of movement. She’s also trained in kuthu, a style of Tamil folk dance, and bharatanatyam. “It took a long time to find a guru who could teach me bharatanatyam in an authentic way,” says Jey.

Finding balance: “The important thing for me is to keep the essence of both styles without denigrating one for the other,” says Jey of her #HybridBharatham choreography. “Bharatanatyam movements are really clean and sharp, whereas in hip hop you can find your own groove. I want to find the right balance between them.”

Art and activism: Episode 4 of #HybridBharatham is set to “One Hundred Thousand Flowers,” a rap song about the oppression and genocide by the Sri Lankan government of Tamil people from the proposed state of Tamil Eelam. “I wanted to use my platform to talk about something close to my heart, and to show my identity, frustration, sadness and anger through art.”

Classical costumes: When performing, Jey and her dancers wear traditional saris. “I never wanted to Westernize them, I love saris for what they are,” she says.

Touring with M.I.A.: British musical artist M.I.A. has inspired Jey from a young age. “She’s also Tamil. Seeing someone who looked like me in hip hop made me think I could make it too.” After tweeting her and working with her on an Off-White fashion show, Jey was invited to join the rapper on her 2022 European tour.

Business-minded: Jey obtained a master’s degree in project management and entrepreneurship before she became a professional dancer. “It was important to learn how to negotiate contracts, market myself and deal with the business side of the industry.” This business know-how has helped her secure partnerships with brands such as Converse and Lancôme, dancing in their campaigns as an individual and as a member of Red Sauce collective, respectively.

What her mentor’s saying: “From the moment I met Usha, I knew she was a very motivated and smart person,” says Kanon Zouzoua, the founder of Ghetto-Style collective. “She has so much to give, so I invited
her to manage my international festival, Fusion Concept.”

When she’s not dancing: Jey enjoys playing badminton and futsal (a type of soccer). “Any sport you want to play,” she says, “I’ll come!”

The post Meet Usha Jey, the Rising Multi-Hyphenate Fusing Bharatanatyam and Hip Hop appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Born in Japan, Hunter grew up in Rhode Island and moved to New York in her late teens. She has performed in Miss Saigon, Guys and Dolls, Steel Pier, Kiss Me, Kate and Thoroughly Modern Millie (to name a few) and created choreography for Broadway’s School of Rock and Bad Cinderella, which recently opened. She’s currently directing and choreographing SuperYou­ (written by Lourds Lane), scheduled to open in Milwaukee this month.

My mom is Japanese, and my father is of Irish and Scottish descent. We moved around a lot because he was in the military. By the time I started first grade, we were planted in Rhode Island, and there was not a lot of diversity. My brother and I were made fun of a lot. I had two really good girlfriends—they were both Caucasian—and a really wonderful dance teacher, Nancy LeFebvre DeCicco. She was like a second mom to me. She took me under her wing. In dance class, the only label I had was “dancer.”

When you’re an outsider, you can go one of two ways. You can either put a blockade up and become a bully to protect yourself, or you can recede and try to appease and please. I enjoyed school because I enjoyed my teachers, because they were kind to me. In dance class, I never felt different. I felt like I belonged because I was a dancer, just like everyone else.

When I turned 16 and had my driver’s license, I ran one of the dance studios. My only day off was Sunday, but I loved it because I was teaching.

I love collaborating. Even as a performer I didn’t want to have a solo, I wanted a duet or trio so I could bounce with other people onstage. Whether it’s a physical or spoken dialogue, there’s always a dialogue. Behind the table, there’s collaboration with the director and designers. When you have open dialogue, it makes the product better, and the process is so much easier and much more fun! I’m a good collaborator because I have good instincts and I’m not afraid to say, “I don’t know.”

In the dance industry, we’re lucky because people tend to be open. I remember taking over for a lead in a musical, and they gave me a three-month contract until the director was able to see me in the show. I got the green light from everybody: producers, musical director, choreographers. The director came to see the show, and, at intermission, came into my dressing room. He said something like, “I think you are one of the best actresses I’ve seen do this part. You do it really well, but you’re not the right type.” I’m sitting there wondering, What does he mean by that? Then he continues, “If I didn’t know you or your talent, and someone showed me a photo of you, I would say, ‘No, she’s not the right type.’ ”

Then I had to go out and start Act II with one of the longest songs in the history of the world, and I was supposed to be funny. I thought, Wow, he doesn’t think my face belongs in this role? With choreographers, they only cared about my talent. But I take that experience with me, and, hopefully, I’m becoming a better person every day. That’s my goal.

One of my skill sets is knowing how to navigate a room. Every room is different. When I started out, I would look down the creative team’s table and notice that I was the only female in the room besides, maybe, a stage manager. Knowing how to guide a situation is not manipulation. Sometimes talent is not enough. We all know many talented people who are out of work!

You’ve got to figure out how to work with people so they’ll listen with an open mind and not just shut you down because you’re a woman. Being an outsider for so long, I’ve had to navigate the peripheries in order to slowly weave my way in. It’s like moving through a labyrinth. All those different obstacles gave me experience and skill sets.

The first time I worked with Andrew [Lloyd Webber] was on School of Rock, and it was intimidating. He’s both “Sir” and “Lord”! Andrew is incredibly intelligent, and his knowledge of theater is unbelievable. There have been a couple of times I’ve disagreed with him, and each time I thought, Oh, I’m gonna get fired! But I wasn’t. One time I disagreed with a decision he had made, and, two weeks later, he realized “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s go back to how you did it.” That’s collaboration. It’s not compromise; it’s about give-and-take.

The post JoAnn M. Hunter Brings Decades of Skill, Experience and Perspective to <i>Bad Cinderella</i> and <i>SuperYou</i> appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Both settings evince Chan’s abundant curiosity: The 30-year-old dancer is perpetually searching for new ways to express himself fully and authentically. Though he makes a natural prince, he has also sought out contemporary perspectives on classical ballet, a pursuit that has led him across oceans and countries. He has learned an array of languages—spoken and danced, onstage and online—with astonishing speed. As the first principal dancer from China at NYCB, he has embraced his role model status, hoping to help reimagine a Eurocentric art form for an international age. 

“Chun Wai is the ultimate sponge,” says Houston Ballet first soloist Harper Watters, Chan’s friend and former colleague. “He’s always on the hunt, always hungry, always looking for new information.”

Born in Huizhou, in China’s Guangdong Province, Chan followed one of his three older sisters into dance class at age 6. His parents, busy running their sweater importing and exporting business, and envisioning a future for Chan as a doctor or lawyer, saw the studio as mostly “a great daycare,” Chan says. But in dance he found freedom from the pressures of his academic classes, which were huge (“imagine 70 of us, all sitting right next to each other,” he says) and intensely competitive. 

The stakes changed considerably when Chan earned acceptance­ to Guangzhou Art School’s selective ballet program at age 11. His tight-knit family held a vote on whether or not the young dancer should be allowed to attend. The nos from his parents and grandparents outweighed his sisters’ yeses. 

Chan recognized that this was an inflection point. “In China, once you decide not to pursue the art form this way, you have to focus on academic school,” he explains. He wrote his father a letter pleading his case. “I just knew that if I didn’t dance, I wouldn’t be me anymore,” he says. 

His parents agreed to let him go. Determined to make the most of the opportunity, Chan worked hard at the Vaganova-based Guangzhou school. But he kept his eyes open, too. At 16, he began attending ballet competitions abroad, which gave him a taste of the international ballet scene, a world he’d glimpsed through the 2009 film Mao’s Last Dancer. 

At the 2010 Prix de Lausanne, Chan received nine offers­ from ballet companies and schools. He chose Houston Ball­et II,­ partly because he’d been impressed by the Houston dancers who had performed at the Prix—“their energy, it was shining,” he says—and partly because Houston Ballet was where Li Cunxin, the Chinese ballet star at the center of Mao’s Last Dancer, had spent much of his career.

Chan arrived in Texas knowing little English, and found himself overwhelmed by Houston Ballet II’s heavy touring schedule. After earning a spot in Houston Ballet’s corps in 2012, he hurt first his thumb and then his ankle, forcing him to take breaks from performing. Feeling unmoored, Chan considered leaving the company to attend the University of Arizona, where he’d received a full scholarship. 

Then artistic director Stanton Welch cast him as Romeo—fifth string—in Romeo and Juliet. “The happiness of covering Romeo in the fifth cast, for me, was more than the scholarship to the university,” Chan says. “And so I realized, I think I belong to the dance world.”

Over time, Chan made a home for himself in Houston, where he danced featured roles in a range of classical and contemporary repertory, particularly works by George Balanchine and Jerome Robbins. He and Watters bonded during backstage tapings of Watters’ playful YouTube series “The Pre Show,” which introduced the internet to Chan’s goofball side.

“Chun Wai picks up on so many things, not just when it comes to the dance elements, but also in terms of social interaction,” Watters says of their rapport on “The Pre Show.” “He imme­diately found a way to bounce off my sense of humor. I can be pretty fast, I can push people that way, but he always kept up.”

Watters encouraged Chan to develop his own online presence, pointing out that the hours Chan spent playing Candy Crush Saga—he’d become fixated on the game—could be put to better use. Chan says, “I started thinking, What if I play Instagram, play social media, as the game instead?” After his brother-in-law, a policeman in China, asked for some stretching tips, Chan began posting fitness and technique tutorials to YouTube. Simple, useful and endearingly unstuffy, they earned his Chunner Studio channel a large following.

In 2017, Chan became a principal at Houston Ballet. Soon after, he and Welch worked out a special arrangement: Chan would sign half-year contracts with Houston Ballet, allowing him to spend a good chunk of each season guesting with Hong Kong Ballet—much closer to his much-missed family. The pieces of Chan’s professional life seemed to be clicking into place. 

But when NYCB resident choreographer and artistic advisor Justin Peck cast Chan in Reflections, a new work he was creating for Houston Ballet in 2019, Chan unlocked something new. “There was a sense of freedom in Justin’s movement that made me think, Oh, I’m craving more of this!” he says. Peck kept expanding Chan’s role in the ballet: Initially part of a trio, he gained a pas de deux and then a solo of his own. “He’s really the ideal collaborator,” Peck says. “He’s incredibly present, and he brings his full self.”

Ahead of the premiere, Chan—being “an excellent Houston host,” as Peck says—took Peck and lighting designer Brandon Stirling Baker out for Peking duck. The dinner conversation turned to New York City, and NYCB. “Chun Wai was very curious about New York as a broader place,” Peck says, “but also as this kind of mecca for dance.” If Chan was interested in NYCB, Peck said, he was the guy to talk to.

Chan was interested. But he was also conflicted. He felt attached to his community in Houston, and appreciative of Welch’s support and flexibility. In a full-circle moment, Chan’s family once again helped him make a crucial career call—this time, from a very different perspective. “They said go!” he says. “Go to another company, another city, to fight for what you dream for. No matter what position they offer you, go.”

In early 2020, Chan traveled to New York City to take class with NYCB. Though the company almost never hires dancers who haven’t trained at its own School of American Ballet, Chan was offered a soloist contract for that fall. 

The pandemic paused that plan. During COVID-19 shutdowns, Chan returned home to China. While there, he appeared on the second season of “Dance Smash,” a popular Chinese reality-television show, where he performed a range of styles—ballet, contemporary, Chinese folk dance. He made it to the competition’s final four, gaining thousands of new fans along the way, and enjoyed learning how to perform for the camera. Chan signed with an agency in China­ that urged him to capitalize on his “Dance Smash” success by pursuing more television, film and commercial work. But he was itching to get back to professional ballet, and to New York.

Chan arrived at NYCB in August 2021. His first few months at the company were a full-immersion course in the Balanchine style, to which he’d had relatively little exposure. That might have been overwhelming to a different initiate, but Chan says he appreciated the big dunk. “It’s like learning a different language,” he says. “Once you’re working in this environment where it’s all around you, it’s much easier.” 

Now Chan is using everything in his varied technical arsenal to attack a swath of NYCB’s repertory. He has become a particular muse to Peck, who created a leading role for Chan in his recent premiere, Copland Dance Episodes. The ballet’s abstract, contemporary storytelling allowed Chan to dance as his 21st-century self, rather than inhabit an old-world ideal. “He realized that he didn’t have to kind of put that crown on,” Peck says.

Chan was first surprised, and then touched, when young dancers of color began saying that his career gave them hope for their own. A flurry of press attention accompanied his promotion to principal last May—at the time he was the first Chinese dancer and only the fourth Asian dancer to reach that rank at NYCB (Mira Nadon’s promotion in February means there have now been five Asian principals at the company). He says he tries to bring aspects of his heritage into his art. “Growing up in China, I learned a lot about Confucius’ ideal, the Chinese culture of being humble and polite,” he says. “And that’s how I want to work and interact with people.” 

Chan is modest about the scope of his influence. But Georgina Pazcoguin, NYCB soloist and co-founder of the advocacy organization Final Bow for Yellowface, which aims to improve Asian representation in ballet, says Chan embodies change every time he steps onstage. “It’s really exciting to see someone like Chun Wai as the Cavalier, as Prince Désiré,” she says. “And now he’s being given chances to not play the prince, too. He’s showing that he can be all of these things.”

What else might Chan be someday? Maybe an artistic director. He has been taking classes in organizational leadership at Fordham University. “Who knows if I’ll get director offers—maybe in 10 years!” He chuckles. “But I want to be prepared.” He has also been studying acting in case Broadway or Hollywood come calling, which “would be a fun adventure,” he says.

Chan piles those courses atop a furious performance schedule, often dancing five shows a week when NYCB is in season. In March, he also returned to Houston Ballet for his COVID-delayed farewell shows, playing Romeo (first cast, this time) in Welch’s Romeo and Juliet. But he still makes time for decompression sessions with Jovani Furlan and Gilbert Bolden­ III, two of his closest friends at NYCB; for karaoke outings, where he favors songs by Sam Smith and Justin Timberlake; and for exploring New York City. “He’s not a tunnel-vision ballet person—he’s taken to New York with such enthusiasm,” Peck says. “He goes out, he sees shows, he goes to restaurants. He’s expanding his community here.”

However expansive his horizons, Chan thinks he has plenty more to learn inside ballet. “One of the reasons ballet is so fun to me is because there’s always something to fix next time, always something to work on, always new challenges, if you’re looking for them,” he says. “You’re always growing and growing and growing.” 

The post Chun Wai Chan, New York City Ballet’s First Chinese Principal, Brings Hunger and Humility to His Multinational Career appeared first on Dance Magazine.