Articles from February 2021

I recognize that this is a privileged problem. That many artists, despite years of applying, never get their dream grant—the one they think will change everything. But whether you get one or a plethora of project grants or fellowships, the deadening cycle of project-to-project funding can lead to career-abandoning burnout. And yet we continue to grovel for this funding because, for many of us, it’s all we have, even at more developed stages of our careers. How many times have I heard (and felt): “I’ve gotten X, Y and Z, so what’s left?”

In this period of crucial rebuilding of our industry, let’s allow ourselves to really dream for a moment. We deserve funding that covers more than a single dance and set of fees. What if it expanded into an artist’s life and body of work, so that when one project ended, we didn’t find ourselves in the dust, having to begin again? What if funding allowed artists to pay themselves and provide a living wage over a period of time to an extended group of people (dancers, staff, technicians, designers), and/or to permeate a community so that their work became an essential part of it rather than a drive-through item? And what if we could actually apply for this kind of expansive funding rather than be nominated by some secret MacArthur- or Duke-like closed-door committee?

Kimberly Bartosik’s through the mirror of their eyes

Maria Baranova, Courtesy Bartosik

My dream grant would prioritize artists who have built a life through their work, have consistently supported those who work for them, yet are working outside of institutions. It wouldn’t be granted as an unrestricted lump sum of money, but would require recipients to budget for and articulate ways they would offer long-term support to those helping them realize their work.

Beyond-the-project funding would allow artists time to build an infrastructure; to support themselves while considering the future of others; to grow from the inside rather than piece together a flimsy exoskeleton through a series of patchwork grants. We need to secure a core so that if we have a few bad years, or we are struck again with the decimating force of a pandemic, all is not lost.

With sustained support, we could lessen attrition (who doesn’t know a freelance dancer, choreographer, designer or arts administrator who has abandoned the field because they could not afford to stay in it?); push artists from the margins and into the deepest foundations of the culture; and watch investments take hold, allowing more artists to realize their fullest potential.

For too long we’ve perpetuated the myth that hard work is all you need to succeed. That if we just stick with it, sweat it out no matter what, we’ll get our breakthrough moment. Yet no amount of hard work will fix a system that is failing artists. And then there’s the other dangerous myth that living on the edge leads to cutting-edge work. In truth, scarcity only breeds burnout. The edge is not something to be literally teetering on, but something we should be developing in our work.

We need funding models that embrace cycles of nourishment. We need funders to take more risks on more artists working in many different genres and for longer periods of time. An artist’s potential isn’t often realized in a single work, and sometimes the most significantly funded work isn’t the most successful. When we have systems that believe in us—when we don’t have to continually prove ourselves project after project—we make our best work.

We are greater than a single work of art.

I wouldn’t particularly say I am a people person, but I need to make dance, even solos, in relationship with others. It is in the process of being with, listening to, witnessing others that my ideas become energy and matter moving through time and space.

Even the visual elements that I seemingly create alone—the moving images, sculptures and textiles—are interwoven into my performance, and the installation projects are rigged in collaboration with production artists.

I work primarily with composer Françoi­s Richomme. We create working and performing environments in which the dancers can source movement from the history, culture and ancestry stored in their bodies. It is our job to string it all together, to frame it and to give them the best possible situation so they can thrive and grow.

For the last 10 years, I have focused on developing a physical and intellectual decolonized practice which strives to benefit everyone involved: performers, design collaborators, partners, community participants and audience.

I am always asking how language can be generative and holistic while asking performers to explore new territory. Getting to the right sequence of words requires making mistakes. It also requires listening deeply so that I discover things that I never knew I knew. I learned this skill from my longtime teacher, Barbara Mahler, who is a genius at helping people find their individual physical strength and expression.

The key to language, though, is listening—deep listening, not just to words and sounds, but to the body in relationship, in perceived stillness, in gesture and in motio­n. For me, it is this union of listening and guiding others through carefully chosen language that makes the best dances.

Besides day camp, talent shows, drill team and moves I put together with my friends in the backyard, I didn’t have too much experience doing choreographed dance moves until I took a class at Millennium Dance Complex at 15 years old. That day, dance became my first love, stronger than any school crush. I started taking four to six classes a day, without Mom and Dad telling me to, but because I had to. I went from law school goals to dance class dreams, regardless of what anyone might have thought. Thank God I did, because all of my hopes, wishes and more have come true since I took that leap of faith.

With God in my heart, faith in my pocket and passion in my soul, I married dance long ago. I hope any dancer who truly loves dancing knows God is waiting to bless them tremendously. God would never give you that much joy in any area if He wasn’t ready to fulfill it. Timing and patience are key to reap the seeds of your dreams. That one job could change your life forever; you just never know when.