With its massive ups (live shows back in theaters!) and massive downs (COVID-19 cases and supply-chain issues canceling far too many of those shows), 2021 has truly been a year like no other. Throughout it all, Dance Magazine has worked to cover the trends, the changes and the inspirations that have kept us going. Here are the eight stories you loved the most this year.
The Dancing That Made Gymnast Nia Dennis Famous
Nia Dennis. Photo by Don Liebig/UCLA Photography, Courtesy UCLA Athletics
UCLA gymnast Nia Dennis was popping up all over social media in January with a floor routine that incorporated stepping and iconic social-dance moves like the Soulja Boy and the woah. Editor in chief Jennifer Stahl interviewed both Dennis and the team’s choreographer, BJ Das, about how it came together. Later in the year we looked into what was behind the overall trend of college gymnasts going viral because of their dance moves.
Our 2021 “25 to Watch”
Our annual “25 to Watch” feature, highlighting up-and-comers we believe are on the verge of breakthrough, is always a favorite, and this year was no different. After publishing the list on January 1, we spent the year watching these artists make waves throughout the field.
The Dancer Who Holds a Surprising Guinness World Record
Claudia Steck, Courtesy of Sarah Louis-Jean
One of our more unexpected breakout hits of 2021 was a profile of a dancer with an unexpected story: Sarah Louis-Jean took home a Guinness World Record for the most boleadoras taps made in one minute (385, if you’re curious). Our intern at the time, Breanna Mitchell (who’s now, for obvious reasons, on our roster of regular writers), wrote about how the Black Canadian woman became a master in the Argentine folk dance that’s traditionally performed by men.
A Look at What Makes a TikTok Dance Challenge Catch On
At the start of 2021, TikTok was already a major destination for dance, and it’s only grown over the course of the year. Writer Siobhan Burke looked into the unparalleled appeal of the platform, and why dance is such a natural fit for it.
Boston Dynamics’ Robot Choreographer
Who’s behind those viral music videos of robots dancing? Writer Sydney Skybetter did some investigating to track down the choreographer of Boston Dynamics’ then-latest film, “Do You Love Me?”: Monica Thomas. She shared with us the inside scoop on a creative process like no other.
The History of the Temple Dancers Who Inspired La Bayadère
Nikiya, danced by Natalia Matsak at the National Opera House of Ukraine. Photo by Ksenia Orlova, via Wikimedia Commons
Few ballet lovers these days would be surprised to hear that Petipa took, ahem, certain liberties with the cultures that inspired his famous ballets. But journalist Sarah McKenna Barry’s deep dive into the real lives of the actual women whom Nikiya is supposed to represent will make you see La Bayadère in a whole new way.
Edward Watson’s Cover Story
Edward Watson. Photo by Kosmas Pavlos
Just before Edward Watson retired from The Royal Ballet this fall, Laura Cappelle took a look at how he carved out a new space in ballet for male dancers who don’t fit the traditional “prince” mold.
“30 Over 30”
During a year in which time seemed to both stand still and fly by all at once, Dance Magazine decided to push back against the narrative that only the young can have dance careers. Putting our spin on the traditional power list, we choose “30 Over 30,” highlighting people who prove success can happen at any age.
Just for today, this column is not what I planned it to be. In an unexpected (or entirely predictable, depending on when you ask me) turn of events, I am not feeling good.
How did we get here? How did we go from doing so great that I pitched a comeback story to the preeminent dance magazine in the country to crying on the studio floor? To answer this question, I need to explain “The Spoon Theory,” a term coined by a blogger with lupus named Christine Miserandino.
It goes like this: Imagine you have 12 spoons in your hands—each visually represents a unit of energy. When you’re chronically ill, everything you do takes more energy (spoons) than it takes the average person. Showering takes a spoon, commuting to the studio takes a spoon, a dance class might take three spoons. This pattern goes on and on until there are no spoons left in your hand. You might be able to reach over to the table next to you and borrow a spoon from the next day, but then you will have fewer spoons to use tomorrow. Eventually, if you keep depleting your spoons, you will run out and crash completely.
Over the past year, I have planned my days meticulously, slowly adding more physical activity to my plate only when it can match the additional spoons I’ve been given through improved health. Unfortunately, with my last column, on training, I did too much and ran out of spoons. I didn’t crash completely, but I started seeing shades of my old symptoms, like fatigue, inflammation, migraines and nausea, creep up, and I had to do something about it.
I took a few things off my plate (RIP Dance Spirit editor position), prioritized sleep (9 pm bedtime for the win), told myself it was okay if I couldn’t make it to ballet every day (at least for now), and tried to give myself grace during class when I was able to be there. In a Dance Magazine article on returning to dance post-injury called “When the Body Betrays,” sports psychologist Dr. Alan Goldberg says recovering dancers should keep their focus on the progress they’re making. I can’t realistically expect my body to be able to move the same way it did when I was 18 years old—that is setting myself up for failure.
Honestly, I’ve been pretty disappointed. When I was a young dancer, a teacher once told me that a day off in dance was like a week off in any other passion. Although this is a myth that’s been debunked (taking time off can actually be a great thing for your dancing!), those words have still haunted me every day for the past nine years. I didn’t want to take two steps backward, even if just for a month. I wanted to go full throttle—to chase my big plans.
Thankfully, though, the decision to be respectful of my body’s physical boundaries has paid off, and I’m beginning to feel better. And if the past year has shown me anything, it’s that it’s never too late to try again.
As many dancers return to their first big runs of performances like Nutcracker and other holiday shows since the onset of the pandemic, I’d imagine some of you might also be realizing that dance is taking a bigger toll on you than it used to. It’s terrifying to be in a new body with new physical and emotional challenges. Let’s give a little space to the need to prioritize recovery, listen to our bodies and acknowledge that progress is not linear.
So that’s it for today. No milestones. Nothing flashy to show. Just a spoonful of setbacks to push through. That’s life, right?
When you’re enjoying the easygoing, joke-telling manner of Robert Battle as the welcoming emcee of the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater, you might not realize there is a ferocious choreographer underneath all that charm. To celebrate his 10 years as artistic director, at New York City Center on Tuesday night the company presented seven works Battle’s created over the last 22 years. Each one held bold surprises—even for those of us familiar with his work.
At the Dance Magazine Awards the previous night, Judith Jamison, in presenting the award to Battle, said, “I love watching Robert’s bravery.” I think she meant both his bravery as a choreographer and as an artistic director. As the latter, he has expanded the Ailey repertory with so many interesting choices—Aszure Barton, Wayne McGregor, Johan Inger and Kyle Abraham—that we tend to forget about Battle himself as a choreographer.
Kanji Segawa in Robert Battle’s Takademe. Photo by James R. Brantley, Courtesy AAADT
Well, the program at City Center reminded us in a big way. Robert Battle is a choreographer of masterful restraint and sudden explosiveness. He is a choreographer who has definite musical tastes and finds a different, original movement vocabulary for each of those music choices.
With a disciplined sense of suspense, he makes us wait for the big moment. In Mass (2004), a devotional piece of skittering, swirling and vibrating and a modernist sense of design, the 16 dancers sometimes lock into off-kilter positions of stillness. And then a burst of momentum pushes these monklike figures across the stage in an agitated, unstoppable herd. In his portion of Love Stories (2004, originally a triptych with contributions from Judith Jamison and Rennie Harris), we crave to be carried on a high by Stevie Wonder’s songs, but Battle reins the dancers in with strict unison until the very end, when he unleashes a torrent of wild revelry.
In Unfold (2007), the extreme attenuation for the woman—in this case a ravishingly arching Jacqueline Green—is sustained throughout this short work to the operatic voice of Leontyne Price. Green’s partner, Jeroboam Bozeman, seems like a lost soul clinging to his memories. With a slow développé to the side, toes pointing upward, Green hits the high note just when Price does. It’s the kind of satisfying convergence that Battle is careful not to overuse.
Jacqueline Green and Jeroboam Bozeman in Robert Battle’s Unfold. Photo by Paul Kolnik, Courtesy AAADT
The evening’s emotional range went from the desperation of In/Side (2008)—which finds Yannick Lebrun staggering and spiraling to Nina Simone singing “with your kiss life begins”—to the giddiness of Ella (2008), in which two dancers (Renaldo Maurice and Patrick Coker) physicalize Ella Fitzgerald’s speedy scatting that ricochets between popular tunes of the 50s and earlier.
The work that premiered this season, For Four, laced its full-bodied jazz moves with chaîné turns and cabrioles, and somehow it all fit into the robust Wynton Marsalis score. The projection of an American flag onto one dancer seemed to suddenly curtail the dancers’ freedom and make them feel trapped.
Takademe (1999) never fails to excite. With crackling energy, Kanji Segawa mirrors Sheila Chandra’s staccato stutterings, deep exhalations and vocal spurts. A brief, enchanting masterwork, Takademe is where language, voice and movement mingle—at top speed and intricacy.
In his opening speech to this program honoring him, Battle graciously pointed out that David Parsons gave him his first chance to choreograph, and he, Battle, has given Jamar Roberts his first chance. And so the chain of extraordinary artistry continues.
It was clear to anyone who saw David Alvarez in the musical Billy Elliot more than a decade ago that there was something remarkable about this teenager debuting on Broadway. Even at 14, he had a gravitas beyond his years. His dancing was both expressive and explosive—it said something about the character’s inner life, and also about his talent. You left the theater wondering what was next for this extraordinary young performer.
But, to the surprise of many, he didn’t stay in show business, despite winning a Tony for Best Actor in a Musical, along with his two fellow Billys. Instead, he disappeared from view, finished high school and then joined the army. “I wanted to be part of something bigger than myself,” he said recently of his decision to join up. “It was, no doubt, the hardest thing I’ve ever done.” He still wears his dog tags. Though he didn’t see combat, he says that the experience—the physical and mental training—changed him.
In 2015, at 20, he briefly resurfaced as a swing in the Broadway revival of On the Town. Only to disappear once again, this time winding up at Case Western University, where he majored in philosophy.
Now he’s back, in a big way, with two major debuts that place him right at the center of our cultural moment. On Showtime, he has a lead role acting in a dark, dramatic series called “American Rust,” which debuted in September. This month he will be coming to a movie theater near you in Steven Spielberg’s remake of West Side Story, the pioneering 1957 musical (and 1961 film) about warring gangs in New York City. He plays Bernardo, the charismatic, proud and sometimes violent leader of the Puerto Rican gang, the Sharks.
It’s a lot for a 27-year-old who just two years ago was an undergraduate with no plans to return to the stage. But when I ask whether working on two high-profile projects back-to-back was intimidating, he gives a characteristically low-key, thoughtful response: “You know, it’s almost as if I’ve been making sure that I’m ready and prepared for the things that are thrown at me.”
He wasn’t planning to audition for West Side Story, he says. One day, out of the blue, the casting director Cindy Tolan reached out to him on social media. “I was so confused by it,” says Alvarez. “I couldn’t understand why she was messaging me after I had disappeared from the face of the earth for the last six years.” But it turned out that she, too, remembered him from Billy Elliot.
Justin Peck created the choreography for the new film; the original was famously choreographed by Jerome Robbins. Peck recalls the audition: “He just had a spark, and this real edge to the way he moves, despite the fact that he was a little rusty.” The two worked together closely, honing Bernardo’s movement style. For his part, Alvarez was deeply impressed by Peck’s grasp of the cinematic effect of the choreography. “Everything interconnects and weaves together beautifully,” Alvarez says. “He’s choreographing for how you look within the group and how the group looks within the picture. He’s always a step ahead of where you think he is.”
Though Alvarez had to get back into dancing shape, he says the process felt natural, “almost like riding a bike.” In fact, Peck explains, the quality of his dancing helped to shape the role. “We really embraced his sense of athletic classicism,” he says. “There are some moments of virtuosity that I maybe wouldn’t have choreographed otherwise.”
What impressed everyone on set even more was his ability to go deep, in a very quiet, direct way. “He has this ability to express a total spectrum of emotions just through his eyes,” says Peck. It’s something that comes through in his performance in “American Rust,” as well, a role in which he projects a deep vulnerability, verging on woundedness. And not only in his eyes. The way he moves reveals volumes about his character’s inner life. He’s not dancing, but he’s using his body to express what’s happening inside of him.
Ariana DeBose and David Alvarez as Anita and Bernardo in Steven Spielberg’s West Side Story Niko Tavernise, Courtesy 20th Century Studios
This is a quality he has always had, certainly in Billy Elliot, but also when he was a promising young ballet student at American Ballet Theatre’s Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis School. “He was like a little adult,” remembers Franco De Vita, who was then artistic director of the school. “Incredibly focused, quiet, reserved.” And intensely talented. It was clear to his teachers that he could have become a ballet star. “We thought he was going to be the next Fernando Bujones,” says De Vita, referring to the great Cuban-American dancer of the ’70s and ’80s.
Interestingly, both of Alvarez’s recent breakout roles depict working-class men of Latin-American heritage. Bernardo is Puerto Rican, and his character on “American Rust” is half Mexican. Alvarez himself is the son of Cuban immigrants, a cancer researcher and a former actress. He says his background helped him connect to these characters’ struggles. “I’ve heard so many stories from my aunts and uncles about what it’s like to come to a new country, start from zero, with no foundation, no context, having to create that for yourself.”
It helps that, according to both Alvarez and Peck, the Bernardo character in this adaptation of West Side Story is a more complex figure than he was in the 1961 film. The new screenplay is by the playwright Tony Kushner, writer of both Angels in America, a play about the AIDS crisis, and the screenplay for the movie Lincoln.
This time, it seems David Alvarez is here to stay. He says he’s open to anything, dancing roles, nondancing roles—it’s all about translating something that comes from inside. For years, he says, he was searching for something. But recently, he has realized that it’s okay to just follow his inclinations. “There really is nothing to search for,” he says, “because everything you’re looking for is right here, right now.”
Life has its seasons — shifting practicalities and needs leading us in different directions. Dance is a pursuit calling for sincere dedication, for hours in the studio full of mental, physical and spiritual investment. Yet, there are times when life guides us elsewhere, and we place that dedication elsewhere. Once a dancer, always a dancer, however; those hours and energy spent become part of who we are.
Accordingly, sometimes we find ourselves back in the studio, back doing pliés and counting off “5678!” What’s it like to come back to dance after time away — physically, mentally, creatively and otherwise? What’s challenging, and what unexpected gifts can emerge? To learn more here, Dance Informa spoke with four dance artists who came back to dance after time away from it — two of their stories shared here and two more shared in Part II of this series (stay tuned!).
Alexandria Nunweiler: Dance is the answer
Alexandria Nunweiler’s mom is a dance educator and studio owner, so growing up dancing was a rather natural outcome for her. She attended College of Charleston before transferring to Winthrop University, where she majored in dance and professional writing. After graduating, she was a full-time dancer and teaching artist in Charlotte, NC. That came with a whole lot of travel and “hustle”, leading to burnout. The lifestyle felt financially unsustainable as well. Craving change, she decided to head back to school for business in Boston, MA.
After graduating, she held a corporate job in Boston for two years. Technically, she could still dance, but what ended up happening was “taking class sporadically and presenting work here and there,” she explains. “I gave into pressure to take a more traditional path.” Ultimately, Nunweiler realized that such a path wasn’t the right one for her. “What am I doing, and why am I miserable?” she would ask herself. She realized that dance was her answer.
Alexandria Nunweiler. Photo by Olivia Moon Photography.
COVID was really the thing that made that dynamic crystal clear for her, crystal clear enough to take action for change in her career and in her life. “The pandemic spurred reflection for me, and I also couldn’t distract myself with fun things and ‘breathers,’” she recounts. “I fully realized that what I was doing wasn’t fulfilling.”
Shifting course to being a full-time dance teaching artist again wasn’t easy, particularly in the midst of a pandemic. Yet, Nunweiler found tools to help with that, including massage therapy and a yoga teacher training (for building strength and stamina back up as well as mental and physical self-care). Her mom is also a mentor to her, she notes (which demonstrates the importance of calling upon social networks for help with big career and life shifts).
The result of coming back to dance full-time for Nunweiler? “I’ve noticed a big, big difference in my mood and a feeling of fulfillment, which my partner has even noticed!” she shares with a little laugh. She’s been able to build her own schedule — and even cut back on teaching a bit and focus more on creative projects, particularly in the summer when teaching artist work naturally slows down.
One of those projects is 10 recalling 20, which will include film, COVID-safe in-person, workshop, and writing components. The project will highlight, through dance and storytelling, 10 different individual’s experiences of living through 2020 — 10 people from all walks of life. “I feel like I’m living and working more on my own terms now,” Nunweiler says joyfully.
Along with skills like acceptance from yoga, she affirms that “it’s all relative; it’s not about status or comparing ourselves to each other or competing.” She believes that what matters is finding fulfillment in touching people’s lives in big or little ways. For her, that’s through sharing the art of dance, which is “elemental to humans,” she argues. “There are so many ways to have a life in dance, and the body and soul can start to shut down when you’re not dancing but still you need it.” Nunweiler has found that she can’t just let that shutting down happen; dance is a much better answer, and it’s her answer.
David “Sincere” Aiken: Find and share what’s you
David ‘Sincere’ Aiken. David ‘Sincere’ Aiken. Photo by Clifford Cannon.
American Ballet Theatre came to PS156 (Queens, NY), and they picked one young David “Sincere” Aiken to help demonstrate the dance lesson. He had already been involved with singing and acting, so he gravitated toward dance fairly naturally. He didn’t love aspects of ballet, such as having to wear tights — but after seeing a Michael Jackson-themed routine, he knew that he wanted to dance. Aiken had “two left feet” at first, he recounts with a laugh, yet he trained in a wide variety of styles and kept at it. After a couple of years, his technique was more refined and he was able to pick up choreography much more efficiently.
The studio where Aiken was dancing asked him if he could teach hip hop, and from there, he delved deeper into the style. With choreography and performance gigs under his belt, he got a scholarship to dance at Long Island University. Yet, while in school, he got an opportunity to tour with the R&B singer Ashanti, as a dancer, and made the hard choice to leave school in order to take the opportunity. That led him working as a dancer and choreographer in Los Angeles, and that’s when he saw things in the dance world that bothered and discouraged him.
Through spaces like social media, auditions and rehearsals, he didn’t see a true valuing of talent, hard work and dedicated years of training. With dance television shows like America’s Best Dance Crew and So You Think You Can Dance, the dance industry also felt oversaturated to him, he shares. At the same time, Aiken wanted to be fully committed to dance and aim for excellence if he was going to do it all. “I didn’t want to just ‘play around’ with dance and movement,” he explains.
All of those factors at play, Aiken decided to dive back into music rather than spend time and energy on dance. Yet, he “didn’t realize how much I needed dance until I didn’t have it. I needed [a dance community] around me,” he shares. Aiken describes having low energy and “missing an outlet that I would normally use to release my emotions” when not dancing. “Beyond missing dance, I realized how much I needed dance to live. Dance brings joy to my life….medicine to my drama.”
The Black Lives Matter uprisings of 2020 rose up, and it became the thing that ultimately led him to dance again. Aiken was moved to use his art to speak out on social justice. He choreographed a solo to an original racial justice-themed song, had someone shoot it and then put it up on YouTube. That YouTube clip got a good deal of visibility, leading to booking requests and him setting the choreography on a larger group of dancers. Artists have been wanting to have content ready to release once COVID feels more under control, he adds, leading to more performing and choreography gigs. “It was sort of an organic return to dance,” he says.
Physically, “coming back to dance was rough for the first couple of weeks…from getting Charlie horses in my legs and my body feeling like a truck hit it the next morning,” Aiken explains. That “quickly reminded me to stretch again,” he notes. Getting stamina back, on the other hand, “was like riding a bike” — because he had always been a dancer with a lot of energy.
David ‘Sincere’ Aiken. David ‘Sincere’ Aiken. Photo by Clifford Cannon.
These opportunities have continued, including being a choreographer and creative director for Lil Mama’s “UHOH” music video. He also wants to make a visual album with his own choreography and music. He hopes to inspire dancers to “really make something of their own and put a lot into it,” he shares. “If you see something missing, make it yourself!” As for social media, Aiken says he’s found a “niche” within it as well as an appreciation for what’s useful about it, such as networking and brand building.
“I had to go back and realize why I dance — not for the clout, but because I love it,” Aiken affirms. “It’s not about the likes. I don’t want to follow the trend; I want to create.” The communities that dance creates — the energy and conversations that emerge in the studio, on stage, on set — are also incredibly meaningful to him. “There’s no substitute for being together in space [in that way],” he argues.
Aiken believes that he’s with dance for good now. “When a lesson is given to me, I learn my lesson. I think the lesson has been given to me; I know that I need dance.” He also believes that he has a lot to share and contribute — his perspective of the importance of hard work, as well as going back to fundamentals and honoring dance history, for example.
“Do your research,” Aiken advises. “It’ll make you a better dancer. You can do it right and then make something of your own.”
Aiken and Nunweiler’s experiences show that sometimes it takes stepping away to know what that something of your own might be, and the degree to which you just need to make it. After all, as A Chorus Line tells us, “a dancer dances.”
