LET'S STOP PRETENDING
As dance professionals we don’t talk about falling in and out of our practice much.
to be in practice with dance is an act of resilience for the body, mind, and soul.
It is never challenging in the way you want it to be. Dance requires total diligence by the participant...
You must show up. You must tell your mind that the physical pain you feel is an illusion. You must be an expert at putting other things behind you to be present, willing, and able in spaces with others. You must fake confidence in movements, until that confidence is solidified by years of numbing repetition. Most importantly you must choose dance, time and time again, even when the act of it seems to be doing nothing but creating frustration or anxiety in your life.
To be in practice with dance goes both with and against what the body wants to do; it satisfies our desire for outward expression of our internal rhythm (heartbeat) and yet, oftentimes technique goes against all instinctive body mechanics. Observing the act of physicalized humanity in performance may have drawn us in to dance initially. Dance, to outside eyes, looks like complete freedom...but continuing a lifelong practice is an active, humble, and difficult choice.
And to fall out of practice-to fall out of love with this addiction to fighting for extreme capacity and control over our bodies, is extremely counter-culture to the dance community.
How could you be questioning this passion?
Passion.
I hate this word, passion.
It is the first response someone follows with to announcing your profession, “I’m happy that you are following your passion”
Passion can insinuate that the work is not real, or in other ways, that the work is not work. The word passion makes me question whether or not my passion truly is dance. I think I have more of a passion for writing these blog posts…
Dance to me, is more of an identity.
I think that’s what dance is to most of us working in the field.
We’ve grown up with this thing that has seen us through all the different times in our lives. It is the most constant, reliable relationship that continually provides space for anger and joy and generosity. Naturally as we develop as humans, the way we identify ourselves in the world is also subject to change. We are continually adjusting and understanding. This happens with dance too, of course. Periodically we might wonder where its place is, how it serves us, or what the future of our relationship with it looks like...but we don’t talk about it. Instead we share articles on Facebook written by people who have left the field or have found other jobs. We commend them for their tough decisions. It easier to promote a point blank statement of finality. What if you don’t want to leave, but are in a rut? And why don’t we open up that conversation?
first off,
there’s a great amount of shame in admitting to being “stuck”.
Dancers play a great game of comparing sacrifices. We’ve all been told tales of starving artist scenarios…
Sometimes it can be hard to open up to our peers when we can’t anticipate the reaction we are going to receive back. We play the game of “my struggle that I’ve faced/am facing is worse than the struggle you are going through” because there’s this overwhelming need to prove our level of survival. Feeling out of sorts becomes an invalid place to be when we are otherwise, able bodied. In that same realm, there’s also very little empathy that exists for contemplating dance.
We are expected to fight for our jobs like our lives depend on it (blood, sweat, and tears!) because it is our passion. Those images of “cattle call” auditions that come to mind are certainly a reality in some industries and situations, but for a lot of us, that movie scene doesn’t quite fit. We are not fighting each other tooth and nail for work because in countless scenarios, the job we are showing up for won’t make a dent in paying our bills, even if we are hired.
Instead, the field is full of innovators, makers, doers, who are collaborating and make-shifting. We are freelancers and producers who operate in unsteady lapses of time. Contemplating our relationship to dance with others could actually help fuel our capacity and expand our view of all that dance is and can be!
Second off,
we pride ourselves on communicating the importance of dance to the world and have to constantly publicize how much it means to us and encourage others to support it.
If half of the cast in a show you bought a ticket to, felt disconnected to the work they were dancing...would you still support the show? How would we maintain sponsorships, if creative directors admitted to going through dry patches?
We don’t publicize falling in and out of practice, because financially it is not a good idea. As a dancer or maker, you must appear consistent even if your heart is outside of the practice. I think this is another big factor that leads us to have a skewed emotional relationship with dance. We shouldn’t push away our present connection to dance, we should honor the stage we are at. We need to have open conversations with peers and mentors without fear of judgement.
Those who are truly lifelong dancers and teachers and artists. I respect them so, so much. I respect them to such a degree, that I want to be like them some day. I want to be at the barre teaching ballet to a full class at age 70. I want to have this long, large, twisted career trajectory that leads me to all sorts of places and people. This, among other things is what keeps me going...the thought that yes, I can do this and I do really want this.
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So, friends.
If you haven’t figured it out, I’m not leaving the practice of dance.
Ironically, dance and I are in a pretty good spot right now.
I just want us all to quit pretending and start talking.