NEXTSTEPPAD – Page 11

Coming Back to Dance

Part One

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. — 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.

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.”

By Kathryn Boland of Dance Informa.

The post Coming Back to Dance appeared first on Dance Informa Magazine.

Op-Ed: Please Stop Weighing Dancers

On what began as an ordinary day in early fall, I and the other dancers in my pre-professional ballet program were told that we were going to be measured by the costume shop in anticipation of our upcoming Nutcracker performances with the company. We were lined up in a hallway that led to the open common area of the building. And one by one, we stepped forward to face the measuring tape. As each of us was measured by an assistant costumier, the numbers were recited out loud and written down by another member of the staff sitting at a table nearby. Efficient, yes. And then we were asked to step on a scale, and just as with the other measurements that were taken, the numbers were read aloud. And we, the teenagers with big aspirations for careers in ballet, listened to those numbers and took mental notes.

This moment was more than 15 years ago. Despite my own efforts to address mental health issues in dance, I have tried to comfort myself with the knowledge that something like this would certainly not happen today.

But recently, a colleague who also advocates for the well-being of dancers shared a story with a group of dance medicine professionals that one of her dancers was weighed in front of her peers. I expected total shock from the group, but what poured forth was absolute confirmation that dance institutions are still weighing their dancers.

Why does this practice continue to be accepted? You can decline to be weighed by your medical doctor. But dancers line up without question to have their weight recorded by artistic staff with zero medical training.

I beg an answer to the question “Why do you need to know?”

“You need to fit the costume.”

I don’t believe that harm was intended by the people who lined us up and weighed us that afternoon. But intention is not the absence of harm. There are real reasons that a costume shop would need the measurements of dancers prior to a performance, but the way this was done led all of us to deliberately compare our numbers to those of our peers. There was chatter in the dressing room for days—beautiful and thin girls wondering aloud how they could “fix” those numbers. Plans were made for special diets and workout routines. We all knew now where we stood compared to our rivals, and weight was the primary concern. At that point in my life, I was still a skinny child; my weight had never been an issue, but just hearing these conversations made me realize that it was an intrinsic part of my value as a dancer.

But, truly, do you need to know the weight of every snowflake in the Nutcracker to assign them the correct costume? You don’t. In fact, most costumes are made to accommodate many dancers, with rows of hooks and eyes that make them fit a variety of bodies.

The one exception is if a company needs to fly a dancer onstage: It is reasonable that production professionals might need to have an estimated weight to make one of Dracula’s brides soar. Even then, it depends on what kind of fly system is used.

“We are worried about your health.”

The death of Boston Ballet dancer Heidi Guenther
from complications related to an eating disorder in 1997 created a huge shift in the way dance companies and schools considered the dangers of an eating disorder. I remember well the summer that she died. I was at an intensive and we all sat huddled around the TV in the common area stunned at the news. After her death, there was a noticeable shift in the summer intensives that followed. There were hour-long seminars with nutritionists, some schools even had the presence of mind to bring in a mental health professional to speak. But it felt then, and continues to feel, like many of these gestures are liability management. The way our bodies were spoken about by teachers, and the practice of weighing dancers, continued.

When I ask dance leadership about the practice of weighing dancers, or even asking for weight on an application, I often hear “We want to make sure that they are healthy.” Dancers are at least three times more likely than the general population to have an eating disorder, and those statistics don’t take orthorexia and other disordered eating habits into account. The concern for the prevalence of eating disorders is far from unfounded. But a person does not need to be “too thin” to have an eating disorder. Eating disorders manifest in every kind of body, not only in the lightest dancers.

One of the most common reasons that dancers are currently weighed by their school or company is to participate in a competition. The competitions request this information, we can assume, for the purpose of not allowing dancers who are not well to perform. In the most well-meaning of intentions, they may also be trying to bring awareness to the adults around them when a dancer has become too thin. But who collects this information matters. Again, your weight is private medical information. To be asked for medical forms to be provided by your doctor confirming your fitness to dance is one thing; to have teachers and directors collecting your weight and other medical information is completely inappropriate. And an eating disorder should be prescribed by a mental health professional, not your dance teacher.

“The boys need to be able to partner you safely.”

Recently on social media, I saw a comment posted that a dancer’s studio would not allow students who were over 120 pounds to participate in partnering class. The reason for this was to prevent the men from injuring themselves. The disparity in expectations for male and female bodies in dance is huge, and women are routinely reminded of their subservience to the male dancer, who is harder to find. If the reason for concern is the physical wellness of the male dancer in partnering, then why are male dancers not asked how much they can lift or bench-press?

I find this argument for needing to know the weight of female dancers the most nefarious. It does not honor the woman, nor does it honor the man. I am 5’10” and was capably partnered by several male dancers who were shorter than me. The measure of a great partner is not how much they can deadlift. Partnering in dance is a marvel of physics. It involves timing, force of motion and collaboration. Most male dancers will tell you that the smallest girl in the room is not necessarily the easiest to partner. The best male partners are not those of Herculean strength; they are the ones who understand the science behind what they are doing and genuinely care about their partner. A capable teacher or répétiteur can help a partnered pair accomplish what is needed. And choreography can be adapted and changed.

Men are also not immune to the harms of weighing dancers. Some of the worst eating disorders I’ve witnessed have been among male dancers. The requirement to be strong enough to do what is asked while also being lean enough to fit the mold is true of all the sexes.

It’s Time for Change

The practice of weighing dancers can create lasting damage. To this day, when I am weighed at the doctor’s office, I stand with my back to the scale. When I am confronted with a form asking for my weight, I either guess or leave it blank. It is a small act of self-care. For a long period of my formative years, I thought of my weight as a measure of my value. There is no height-to-weight chart that exists that is a true measure of your fitness as a human, or a dancer. The BMI was developed with little regard for muscle mass, was normed on white bodies and was meant to be used to look at larger trends rather than individual health.

I was recently asked by a leader at a college dance institution what I thought of the practice of asking dancers for their weight. My response was the same question I posed earlier—”Why do you need it?”

The post Op-Ed: Please Stop Weighing Dancers appeared first on Dance Magazine.

12 Holiday Gift Ideas for Your Favorite Dancer

As rewarding as it is to see the excitement on someone’s face when they unwrap the holiday gift you’ve given them, finding that gift can be stressful. When you’re shopping for someone who spends most of their days in the studio, gift giving can feel like even more of a challenge. Whether you’re looking for a bigger item for the dancer on your list that will help elevate their training or you want to gift something smaller that can be enjoyed post-rehearsal, we’ve got you covered.

Cloud & Victory The Sleep Eye Mask, $18

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For the dancer as obsessed as we are with Cloud & Victory’s Instagram feed (and its endless laugh-out-loud memes), consider this clever sleep mask. Embroidered with the phrase ‘Visualising the Choreography,’ the satin sleep mask is perfect for catching a quick pre-performance power nap or settling in at home for an uninterrupted night’s sleep with a side of humor. The small, woman-owned business has plenty of other fun accessories, dancewear and, even, clothes to choose from, too (may we recommend The Tired Dancer Club Hoodie?).

Apartment No. 3 Lucky Charms Notebook, $20

A notebook little icons of cacti, mugs, shopping carts and more on a pink background — Courtesy Apartment No. 3

A dance journal can be a helpful tool for keeping track of corrections, setting goals and staying inspired. The Lucky Charms Notebook is the perfect space for this with a mix of daily task pages, lined sheets for notes and art pages filled with words of encouragement. The notebook comes from Apartment No. 3, a home decor and accessories company that was founded by Diana Albrecht, a former professional dancer with The Washington Ballet and Boston Ballet. You can feel good about your purchase knowing that the company works directly with artisans around the world, focusing on ethical sourcing and sustainable practices.

Tiler Peck Virtual Master Classes, $150 per class

We might be biased, but it doesn’t get much better than having the opportunity to learn from New York City Ballet principal Tiler Peck. For Dance Media Live!, Peck is hosting hour-long Zoom lessons live from New York City Center. Covering everything from musicality and speed to teaching pantomime from story ballets like The Nutcracker, Peck will be giving dancers individual corrections throughout each session as well as offering a post-class Q&A with her students. You can gift a single class or purchase access to multiple sessions at a discounted rate.

True Botanicals Nature Bathing Forest Bath Soak, $38

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Taking time to recover and relax is an essential part of training. And while that rest time looks different for everyone, you’ll be hard-pressed to find a dancer who doesn’t enjoy a warm bath to relieve their sore muscles. True Botanicals’ new Nature Bathing Forest Soak creates a spa-like experience at home with a blend of soothing ingredients to condition the skin and essential oils like lemon eucalyptus to promote relaxation. Because it uses multiple moisturizing ingredients like jojoba seed oil and aloe vera extract, it leaves skin feeling soft, even after an extra-long soak. True Botanicals works with the nonprofit organization MADE SAFE to ensure all of the brand’s products are made with ingredients that are nontoxic and nonirritating.

Nappytabs x Rhythm Jewellery Hoop Dream Earrings, $65–$189

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Husband and wife choreographic duo Napoleon and Tabitha D’umo (better known as “Nappytabs”) teamed up with Canadian jewelry company Rhythm Jewellery for a new collection that’s available just in time for the holidays. Nappytabs’ Evolution collection features versatile pieces inspired by the diversity of the couple’s own artistic journey, which spans world tours, award shows and, of course, their Emmy Award–winning work on “So You Think You Can Dance.” The Hoop Dream Earrings can be worn three different ways to take you from the studio to a night out. Choose the hoop style on its own for a classic accessory, or attach the 14-karat rose-gold accent chain (either directly onto the hoop or along the stopper at the back of your earlobe) for something more statement-making. The hoops are available in two sizes in sterling silver, 10-karat yellow gold and 10-karat white gold.

RolflexPRO, $69.95

A circular contraption with yellow balls on one side and a foam roller on the other — Courtesy Rolflex

An upgrade from your average foam roller, the RolflexPRO utilizes leverage (instead of gravity) to roll out sore muscles more easily and with more control over the pressure used. The lightweight and portable design is small enough to store in a dance bag. And because it’s adjustable, you can use it to massage your hips as easily as your calves and feet. With a yellow foam roller on one side and double rollers on the opposite side, the device allows you to roll over joints without causing pain while deeply massaging the muscles.

Fenty Beauty Diamond Bomb All-Over Diamond Veil, $39

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We’re of the firm belief that when it comes to onstage makeup, the more glitter, the better. If the dancer on your gift list has approximately 100 shows of The Nutcracker over the holiday season, this Fenty Beauty by Rihanna Diamond Bomb highlighter will keep them glowing. Available in platinum, copper and pink/gold shades, the highlighter has a unique jelly-powder formula that melts into the skin. Using a powder brush, it can be dusted along the high points of the face or swept all over the body (or both, if you’re like us).

BodyWrappers Ripstop Pants, $18.40

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Warm-ups are always welcome in a dancer’s wardrobe, and the BodyWrappers Ripstop Pants (also known as the “trash bag pant” in the dance world) have been a longtime go-to for dancers of all levels and techniques. Designed to get dancers warmer faster, the pants come in black, deep teal and plum, and they feature elastic at the waist and the heels so that you can wear them long or roll them up.

Pivo Pod Lite, $100

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For the dancer who is always filming combos from workshops, taking virtual classes or recording audition clips, the Pivo Pod Lite makes the whole thing more seamless. Designed for hands-free tracking as you move, Pivo includes an auto-zoom feature that allows you to film up close or from a distance. Available in six colors, it’s compact enough to bring with you wherever you go. While you can use the device as is, Pivo also offers tripods to give your filming more height and stability, and a remote control so you can stop and start on command.

Moondance Sculpture by Gina Klawitter, $320–$450

A bronze sclupture of legs on a fabric — Courtesy Kliwatter

Fine artist Gina Klawitter combined sculpting and painting to develop her Figures In Fabric Sculptures technique. For her piece entitled Moondance, Klawitter worked with Philadelphia Ballet dancer Fernanda Oliveira as her model, molding fabric to capture her posed feet. Now, she’s offering smaller sculpture reproductions, in resin and perma-stone, that can be displayed on your wall or coffee table.

Gaynor Minden Studio Bag, $65.99

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This versatile bag looks like a traditional backpack, but it also features top handles so you can carry it multiple ways. The Gaynor Minden Studio Bag is water-resistant with an easy-to-clean lining, and, most importantly, it was designed with multiple pockets (on the outside and the inside!) to organize an endless collection of warm-ups, shoes and hair ties.

Herbivore Botanicals Coco Rose Luxe Hydration Trio, $39

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This Herbivore Botanicals beauty set comes with a perfect combination of products that dancers can store in their bag for studio use and at home. The Rose Hibiscus Hydrating Face Mist works for a mid-rehearsal pick-me-up, with its refreshing blend of moisture-binding hyaluronic acid, organic rose water and coconut water. The Coco Rose Lip Conditioner is another dance-bag staple that’s packed with smoothing and softening ingredients, like coconut oil and Moroccan rose oil, while the Coco Rose Coconut Oil Body Polish can amp up your shower routine with its soft rose scent and mix of moisturizers and gentle exfoliators, like pink clay, coconut oil and shea butter.

The post 12 Holiday Gift Ideas for Your Favorite Dancer appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Heels Over Head: 5 Tips to Get More Comfortable With Inversions

“Being upside down is important to me,” says Pavan Thimmaiah. After all, an image of an upside-down dancer in a freeze is the logo for his New York City–based PMT House of Dance studio.

And yet, when Thimmaiah was younger, he was so unsure about being upside down that his mother, attempting to help, would sometimes hold him by the ankles to get him comfortable with the feeling.

Indeed, going upside down can be intimidating—whether it’s the fear of falling, the rush of blood to the head or just the disorientation of seeing the world from a different angle. But “if you can go upside down, it provides you more options to express and to move without limitations,” says Thimmaiah. And that’s not just for breakers—modern dancers need this tool for inversions, for instance, and ballet dancers for partnering.

So what does it take to become as confident moving upside down as you are right side up?

Go Back to Basics

The headstand and the handstand are perhaps the most basic versions of being upside down and are thus a good starting place. That’s why Gus Solomons jr would include a “handstand day” at the beginning of the semester for his contemporary classes at New York University’s Tisch School of the Arts and would have students practice them in class throughout the year.

If handstands sound intimidating, start with a headstand, says Thimmaiah. With your forearms in a tripod configuration with your head, gradually raise your legs from a coiled position (knees starting near your elbows, then straightening up). When you’re ready, you can progress to a handstand using a wall for support. Your arms should be straight, about shoulder-width, and fingers spread. Engage your core and glutes to keep your legs and back straight, says Thimmaiah.

Once you’re stable enough to remove your legs from the wall, play: Open and close your legs, or try moving one hand off the floor, paying careful attention to the changes in balance and counterbalance. “It’s a place where you can explore movement,” Thimmaiah says. “It’s not simply a position.”

Conquer Your Fear

Mastering inversions can be as much a mental game as a physical one. If the idea of being upside down scares you, exposure therapy might help. Start with positions that don’t require you to hold up your own weight. While not everyone has an inversion bed, as Solomons does, yoga poses like fish can get you used to having your head upside down while the rest of your body is safely on the floor.

“Look at the movement and break it down into smaller steps,” suggests Amanda Donahue, an athletic trainer at the Joan Phelps Palladino School of Dance and School of the Arts at Dean College. She recommends calming pre-inversion jitters with breathwork or meditation. “If you can control your breath, that’s going to help downregulate your nervous system, so you can be more relaxed and engaged.” A spotter or floor mats can also be used to help you feel safer, she says.

Consider the Benefits

Even if your current work doesn’t call for being upside down often, it’s still a valuable tool. “It’s a way to diversify yourself as a dancer,” says Thimmaiah.

You may be experiencing inversions without even realizing it. “There are many ways of being upside down,” Thimmaiah says. “If you can do a cartwheel, you’re upside down, so it’s a matter of figuring out how that translates.”

Yes, it’s even true in ballet. “Ballerinas are always getting thrown upside down,” says Solomons. “It’s even more critical for them to get comfortable being every which way in space. You’re training your body to do all it can do, and upside down is another possibility. When you get there, you can get used to the idea that seeing the world right side up is not all there is.”

Take it Easy

Being upside down can be especially difficult for people who have low blood pressure, says Donahue. If inversions are making you light-headed or dizzy, take a break, and be sure you’re well-hydrated next time you attempt them.

3 Exercises for Safe Inversions

Upper body, core and grip strength are key to going upside down safely and confidently, says Donahue. She recommends these exercises:

Plank variations:
Start by maintaining a plank position with proper alignment for up to a minute. If you can do that well, try a plank pike, using either socks or sliders to allow the feet to slide towards the hands, lifting the hips up to the ceiling and controlling on the way back to plank. To progress this exercise, you can twist the hips toward one shoulder to engage the obliques. Alternatively, you can lift one leg into arabesque and slide in just one leg, or try placing your feet on a physio ball to shift more weight into the hands.

Farmer carries: With a moderate or heavy dumbbell in each hand, stand tall and walk for 20–40 yards, or 30 seconds to a minute, as if you are carrying heavy grocery bags. Increase distance, time or load to make it harder, or try it with all of the weight in one hand.

Isometric hangs: Use a chair to grab onto a pull-up bar and hold yourself in a pull-up position, making sure that your back is not arched, building up to 30 seconds. You can also hold the down phase of the pull-up, with your arms fully extended.

The post Heels Over Head: 5 Tips to Get More Comfortable With Inversions appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Begin Again: Figuring Out How to Train on a Budget

At 18 years old, when illness dragged me kicking and screaming off of the stage and into my bed, I felt as though I’d lost myself entirely. The physical pain was stunning, sure, but it was the loss of dance, of what I saw as my identity, that I struggled to cope with.

Now, with nine years of life and my illness (mostly) behind me, I’m returning to dance with a whole new perspective—one that is centered on seeking out happiness.

When I find myself disappointed by slow technical progress, or anxious about my odds after nine years away, I ask myself, “But is it fun?” As ABT principal Devon Teuscher told me in a 2018 interview for Dance Teacher, “If it ever stops bringing me joy, I can always give it up and do something else. This job is too hard to do if you don’t love it.”

Now, with nine years of life and my illness (mostly) behind me, I’m returning to dance with a whole new perspective—one that is centered on seeking out happiness.

In other words, I’m working to find joy in the journey.

But that can be a difficult thing to do when you can’t afford it. Over the past year, I have been disappointed to discover how high the financial barrier to entry has become for a professional dance career. Most of us don’t have angel investors offering to fund the training it takes to get stage-ready.

So, I’ve come up with some options for training without completely breaking the bank. Of course, everyone’s financial situation is different. This works for me and my budget; something different will likely work for you and yours.

First, in-person classes are expensive. (As of this writing, most in Manhattan hover around $25.) Six days a week of classes is a major burden (don’t even get me started on the cost of taking multiple per day!). Still, in my opinion, having a teacher in your immediate space observe and correct you is the best way to improve safely and quickly. Plus, you can’t beat the inspiration of watching a room full of passionate dancers doing their best.

I take in-person classes, but only as my finances allow. I reserve those hours for teachers who inspire me, uplift me and correct me, which is exactly what my personal go-to Steps on Broadway ballet teacher Nancy Bielski says to do. “Look for someone you trust, who really knows what they are doing, and who can set your body up to dance correctly,” she says. “That will really streamline the process and keep you safe.”

At the moment, I take two classes per week (three if I’m able to pick up extra work or save in other areas in my budget that week). I’m a bunhead at heart, and I feel my best if I’m prioritizing my classical technique, so I make sure at least one of my weekly in-person classes is ballet. I like to return to the same teacher each week (Bielski) so that she can track my process, and we can build a relationship that leads to more corrections and industry guidance.

Because I’m interested in musical theater opportunities, I like to have my second class fall in that realm. This is where things get tricky: Sticking to the same teacher each week can lead to more corrections and establish a strong relationship, but if you don’t branch out you close yourself off from other amazing choreographers and a broader industry network. My current solution has been to attend class with the same teacher for three to four weeks in a row before shifting to a different teacher for the following three to four weeks. (And I plan to cycle back through the list.) My current musical theater class is Josh Assor at Broadway Dance Center—he brings me joy, and challenges me musically. Next up is Billy Griffin.

A lot of the musical theater classes fill up quickly, so I try to register for them in advance when I can. That said, if I am feeling sick (my healing is not linear), I give myself the flexibility not to take in-person classes that week. If I’m having a hard day and need a class that fits super-naturally on my body or allows me to work through some hard emotions, I will change directions and sign up for a contemporary class. I want to make sure I can get the most out of every class I pay for.

On the days I can’t attend classes in person, I like to take virtual classes through CLI Studios and YouTube. (I used a hefty discount code to get a year’s worth of training from CLI, and it paid for itself within weeks.) Check out this Dance Magazine article to find other places to train online.

Although virtual classes are affordable, once you stack on the cost of a studio rental, you may as well just take regular, in-person classes. (The studio rental space closest to my home costs nearly $50 per hour.) To get around these high fees, I’ve sought out space in a religious community center that often goes unused during the day. The room doesn’t have mirrors or quality flooring, which is less than ideal. So, I got my hands on a vinyl marley roll and a glassless mirror from Harlequin Floors.

Hilton stand in front of a small full length mirror in the community center. — Hilton’s community center studio setup; Courtesy Hilton

I also have a dear dance friend who works at a gym in the city and is allowed to bring friends in during off-hours. Class is always more fun with a friend, so don’t be afraid to ask others if they would like to join you for virtual class and split the cost of a studio rental fee, or have access to a free space of their own.

You might also consider seeing if a dance studio near you has a work-study program that will allow you to take classes at a discounted rate or use the space after hours. And don’t overlook dance jobs that offer company class or class reimbursements as a perk. Even if it’s a small gig, or not quite your style, sometimes the opportunity is worth the training benefits alone.

Since I’m interested in landing musical theater, film and television jobs, my training also includes acting and vocal training. For affordable voice training, I asked around to find a teacher, Rebecca Soelberg, who was both talented and within my budget for weekly voice lessons. I have also joined a semi-professional community choir, called Lux Mea, that rehearses for two hours every Thursday and has been a fun and affordable way to work on my voice.

For acting, I have taken advantage of some pre-COVID classes at The Freeman Studio I was registered for but hadn’t yet had the chance to cash in on. Classes are held every Friday for two and a half hours, and I always leave on a high.

I’m of the opinion that we could all benefit from saving a buck in this industry, but at the end of the day, finances are a deeply personal matter, and you need to find a strategy that works for you as you pursue your own joy. Consider giving some of these tips a try and then go comment what your personal money saving hacks are over on Dance Magazine‘s Instagram—we’re all in this together!

Check out my most recent vlog on Dance Magazine’s YouTube channel, where I take you through a week in my life of training.

The post Begin Again: Figuring Out How to Train on a Budget appeared first on Dance Magazine.

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Inside the Gibney Company’s Radical Reinvention

The Gibney Company is not your average contemporary-dance troupe. The 12 dancers, who are helmed by three directors enacting a model of lateral leadership, go by the title “artistic associate.” As full-time employees, they make a competitive 52-week-per-year salary complete with health insurance, free on-site physical therapy, an annual artistic sabbatical and paid vacation. The company is deeply committed to activism, and part of each artistic associate’s job is to do regular work with survivors of partner abuse, and to design fellowship projects aimed to fill a particular need in the community.

The goal of these efforts is to cultivate the dancers as leaders, activists and entrepreneurs—a radical step in an industry that has for so long called professional dancers “boys” and “girls.”

When Gina Gibney founded her single-choreographer pickup troupe, then named Gibney Dance Company, in 1991, she never could have imagined that 30 years later it would be doubled in size; financially secure; housed in a thriving, community-centric organization; and poised to make its Joyce Theater debut. But while many would see this as a pinnacle, Gibney thinks of it as the start of something new. “This is the beginning of a very clear, dynamic and forward-focused future,” says the founder, artistic director and CEO.

Two dancers grab each other's shoulders, reaching away from one another with their hips, free arms outstretched — Rehearsing Alan Lucien Øyen’s premiere Shantel Prado, Courtesy Gibney

Making Space for Others

Walking around New York City, it’s easy to spot contemporary dancers by their black tote bags bearing the phrase “Making Space for Dance.” This is the longtime tagline of Gibney, the umbrella organization which houses the company as well as an ample schedule of open classes, presenting programs, training residencies, video assistance, lecture series, a digital journal and partnerships with 11 other arts organizations.

“Making Space for Dance” is also an ethos that Gibney herself has held on to since her early days as a choreographer. Just a few years after arriving in New York City from Ohio in the early 1990s, Gibney leased a permanent home for her troupe: Studio 5-2 in 890 Broadway, the historic dance building that also houses American Ballet Theatre.

“It was never just our studio, but it became a space for the dance community,” remembers Gibney. “Seeing our colleagues fill it and animate it was such a fortuitous beginning.” Though Gibney Dance now boasts 23 studios, including three performance spaces, spread across two locations, Gibney’s never stopped keeping her eye on what the field needs—even if that means stepping out of the way when necessary.

“The best thing I learned from Gina is to make an opportunity for the person beside you as you make one for yourself,” says Amy Miller, one of the company’s directors. It’s this mindset that’s allowed the company to remain flexible through so many iterations.

Until 2014, the company was dedicated to performing Gibney’s own work; for a decade this was done with an all-female ensemble. But as the organization continued to grow, Gibney knew it was time to take on a new role. She stepped away from choreography and day-to-day operations, and instituted Miller as a director. In 2017, Nigel Campbell became a director as well (both Miller and Campbell still perform with the troupe).

Today, the team works in a lateral structure: Campbell focuses on rehearsal direction, Miller spearheads the company’s community action, and Gibney oversees commissions and main-stage curation. All three believe that shared decision-making leads to more equitable choices, yet acknowledge that working together does take more time. “For me, shared leadership is a microcosm of activism in and of itself,” adds Miller.

Since transforming into a repertory company, the group has worked with dancemakers including Bobbi Jene Smith, Shannon Gillen and Shamel Pitts. “I feel like Gina is still choreographing, she’s just choreographing in real estate and in culture and in relationships,” says Miller of the shift. Gibney agrees: “Being founded as a choreographer-led company has informed everything about how our organization has grown. But during this period of rapid growth, I very intentionally let that go and turned to another chapter.”

“Like a Lightning Bolt”

Gibney refers to her original goal of directing a dance company as a small (“but important”) dream. But the intervening years have allowed her to dream on a bigger scale than she’d ever thought possible.

In January of 2020, the company received a new opportunity to do so in the form of a $2 million gift donated by philanthropist Andrew A. Davis. Gibney thinks of the gift “like a lightning bolt”: The company has since doubled in size, hiring six new dancers in the past year, including Rena Butler as a choreographic associate, and bringing in a general manager to help with the day-to-day.

This rapid growth is what’s allowing for the company’s Joyce debut, scheduled for November 2–7 and made up of three world premieres by Butler, Sonya Tayeh and Alan Lucien Øyen. The program will mark Butler’s Joyce choreographic debut and the first time that the work of Øyen, who’s based in Norway, will be seen in New York City.

“We’re excited by what the Gibney Company can do because they’re bringing in new names, which is a way for our audiences to be introduced to choreographers we might not be able to take the risk on ourselves,” says Aaron Mattocks, the Joyce Theater’s director of programming.

After a 30-year legacy performing in smaller venues, making it to the Joyce stage is a triumphant announcement to the dance world that the Gibney Company is more than just a studio ensemble. The donation is also enabling them to start touring, plans of which are still in the works.

Two dancers lift a third above their shoulders as she arches her head back, one leg extended to the side

Focusing Outward

While much has changed for the Gibney Company in the past year and a half, the troupe’s commitment to advocacy and activism has remained steadfast. Since the company’s founding, Gibney has braided work with survivors of domestic violence into her work in the studio. Today, artistic associates are trained by social workers and therapists to understand how trauma impacts the body, and how dance can be used as an intervention, in order to work in the community. They also each take on a Moving Towards Justice Fellowship, leveraging the Gibney organization’s resources to respond to the needs of the dance field. Two that currently stand out to Gibney are Jesse Obremski’s Our Paths, a multimedia online platform that cultivates leadership through empathy, and Leal Zielínska’s Okay, Let’s Unpack This, which provides free therapy and other mental health resources for dancers.

After years working for dance companies where he was asked to leave himself at the door each day, when Campbell first joined the Gibney Company as a dancer in 2015 he felt like all the disparate parts of himself were finally coming together. “I’d always loved dancing, but I knew I had something to say, and I didn’t necessarily know how to say it or have the platform to say it,” he says. “Here it’s a 360 model where we are advocates and entrepreneurs and dancers, and all of that is part of our job description.”

Dance requires a lot of focus on the self, but the outward-facing nature of the artistic associates’ roles allows for a company culture focused on radical honesty, risk taking and what Miller refers to as a “softened” sense of competition.

“This is a grand experiment, and that’s exciting to me,” adds Campbell, continuing in Gibney’s spirit of open-minded adaptability. “We don’t know what this is going to be, which means our potential is unlimited. Our work is to show up every day as a company and say yes to the possibility of what this experience has to offer to us as a company, to the field and, really, to society.”

The post Inside the Gibney Company’s Radical Reinvention appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Why Some Dancers Are Finding an Outlet in Burlesque

If you hear that someone’s a burlesque performer, you might call to mind Gypsy Rose Lee’s journey from vaudeville youngster to snobby stripper in Gypsy, or even the painted ladies of Moulin Rouge! Burlesque, however, is neither. And for the growing number of women who have found their way to nightlife performance from a concert-dance background, burlesque can feel pretty close to a feminist utopia—one where women’s bodies and choreographic voices are celebrated.

Yes, stereotypes and tokenism remain an issue. But burlesque performers often find an outlet they never imagined in formal dance studios. “It really fills my cup,” says Marcy Richardson, who marries aerial dance, opera and pole dancing in her nightlife act, and also performs with the burlesque troupe Company XIV. “I get to be my most authentic self and let go of any expectations that people have.”

Burlesque’s history in the U.S. has deeper roots than modern dance or even ballet. It grew out of Victorian music hall, Victorian burlesque and minstrel shows in the second half of the 19th century. Today’s version of burlesque best resembles that of the early 1900s, when vaudeville reigned supreme. The form flourished during prohibition, and, pushed partially underground, the striptease took center stage. A wave of censorship shut down shows in the late ’30s, but burlesque came roaring back in the ’40s and ’50s, thanks to female trailblazers like Lili St. Cyr and Tempest Storm.

An entrepreneurial spirit remains firmly embedded in 21st-century burlesque. Like concert-dance choreographers, burlesquers often wear many hats: dancemaker, costume designer, self-promoter, makeup artist. “Generally, we’re independent artists,” says Jeez Loueez, a New Orleans–based burlesque performer who started out in musical theater. “It’s up to you to seek out the jobs—and get your own rehearsal space, edit your own music and design your own costumes.”

One of the most rewarding differences from a formal dance career is how often you get to perform, says burlesquer Dirty Martini. Burlesque acts translate well to myriad venues with the capacity to pull together a show quickly. “When you’re rehearsing for a contemporary-dance work, it takes, what, six months to get a concert together, and maybe you can perform for one weekend,” says Martini. “In nightlife, there are shows four or five times a week. You can take an idea you have, and in a week it’s onstage.”

The need to constantly market yourself in order to generate an audience and a loyal following feels similarly exhausting to the hustle demanded of independent contemporary choreographers, however. For most of Loueez’s burlesque career, she’s had to get enough butts in seats to turn a profit for herself. “Say there’s a bar that wants to have a burlesque show,” she says. “You might reach out to a producer, who’ll say, ‘Great. It’ll cost me $2,000 to produce this event.’ Now you have to sell tickets and match that cost before getting a cut of the door.” Loueez likes to joke that if she worked at Walgreens, she wouldn’t need to constantly post on social media that everyone should come visit her at a certain time. “I wish I could just go to work without having to shout about it every day on social media.”

Despite burlesque’s hustle culture, the transition into nightlife for most dancers-turned-burlesque-performers feels like taking a big gulp of fresh air. “Before burlesque, I would go to auditions, and I could see that I was a better dancer, but I wasn’t getting the job because I looked a certain way or I wasn’t the right height,” says Michelle L’amour, known colloquially as The Most Naked Woman. While she was dancing for an industrial glam-rock band, the front man, whom she was dating, asked her if she’d like to create a burlesque show as an opening act. L’amour said yes (“even though I had no idea what that was,” she says with a laugh). When she did her first striptease, she knew this was going to be her life. (And that front man is now her husband.)

For Zelia Rose, a burlesque performer who is also a swing in Australia’s production of Hamilton, the absence of needing to look or perform better than someone else is a big draw. “Sure, there’s always going to be competition,” she says, “but there’s never a sense of ‘Oh, I’m comparing myself to this person, the way my body looks.’ There’s more of a celebration of coming together.”

Burlesque offers a particular performance haven for plus-size women, who are weary of concert-dance companies that seem to uniformly hire a highly specific body type: thin. When she graduated from Purchase College—a program she says she entered on weight probation—Martini knew the odds of finding a contemporary-dance gig were small. “I auditioned for everyone, and I knew no one was going to hire me, because I was a size 14 or 16,” she says.

A woman staring intensely at the camera, with moody red lighting. She is wearing a decorative bikini style outfit, with a draped cloth running from her hip. — Zelia Rose; Richard Marz, Courtesy Rose

Carving a space for herself and helping to shape the nascent burlesque scene in New York City in the 1990s was thrilling. “It’s exciting for me to present a body that people get excited about,” says Martini, a past winner of burlesque’s version of the Olympics, the Miss Exotic World pageant. “It’s not just men being excited because it’s titillating—the majority are women who are so excited to see a body that’s not reflected in magazines or in television or the movies. They’re like, ‘Oh, thank God! Somebody’s representing the majority of women in the U.S. who are over a size 12.’ “

Of course, stereotyping still exists. “When you look at the ways shows are cast, it might be five thin white girls and a brown girl and a fat girl,” says Jezebel Express, a burlesque dancer who recently began performing out of a specially outfitted school bus. “You still see some idea that people are welcome, but only if they’re achieving at a super-high level.” It’s common for plus-size performers to feel relegated to comedic routines, Express says: “They expect to have to deflect their sexuality.”

Burlesque, like nearly every performance field, still has work to do when it comes to moving beyond tokenism and successfully integrating performers of color. “I get pigeonholed into always being the representation card,” says Rose. “I’ll often be the only POC visible in shows.”

It’s an audience-diversity issue, too, says Loueez. “Producers will ask me, ‘How do I get my audience to be more diverse?’ ” she says. “Well, you booked 10 skinny white ladies! If you’re not seeing yourself reflected onstage, you’re not going to go to those shows.”

Loueez, who 10 years ago founded Jeezy’s Juke Joint, a Black Burly Q Revue, as a way to shine a light on Black burlesque performers, uses her teaching career as a tool for change. “I started teaching because I was tired of seeing appropriation,” she says. “A lot of people were using it for comedic effect: ‘How hilarious is it that I’m white and I’m trying to twerk!’ But if a Black burlesque performer did the same act, it would be too stripper-y or raunchy. I have to remind myself that burlesque is not a sparkly bubble where racism and ableism and classicism don’t exist.”

It is a space, performers argue, that offers a wider range of self-expression than its concert-dance counterpart—and seems more ready to tackle the problematic issues that need fixing. “We live in a culture that created a hierarchy of bodies that serve the patriarchy,” says Express. “But people are slowly hopping off the train, one at a time. And I get to help them off the train—with burlesque.”

The post Why Some Dancers Are Finding an Outlet in Burlesque appeared first on Dance Magazine.

How Dance Experts Are Reimagining the Post-COVID World

The lurch of conflicting COVID-19 guidance has wildly shifted how we occupy space with one another. Our collective improvisation through the “coronasphere” (as scholar Kate Elswit brilliantly named it) has been subject to an onslaught of rules, reversals and regulations.

As part of a shared research project with Dr. Heidi Boisvert and Melissa Painter through the Guild of Future Architects, we spoke with a number of dancers, choreographers and scholars thinking through the ramifications of COVID on our lives, and what comes next. What we found was galvanizing and unsurprising: that dancerly folks are abundantly contributing to the reimagining of civic and cultural structures in anticipation of an eventual, post-COVID moment.

Kate Elswit, Reader in Theatre and Performance, The Royal Central School of Speech and Drama

“Simple respiration data doesn’t capture people’s breath experience. When the pandemic came, experiences of breath changed the extent of our bodies. People were talking about how their world was getting smaller, but actually the big issue was as you’re walking the street, as you’re walking in the grocery store, that your body was bigger. So how do we start to train ourselves to engage with that heightened feeling of breath when others are in proximity? That’s already a social choreography.”

Courtesy Elswit

Sara Wookey, Dance Artist, Researcher and Consultant

“This time has really thrown up a great opportunity to look more closely at something that is always there. It’s not just a relational practice; it’s this real ability to be in the room together with others and to create a sense of connection and belonging. Dancers have something to offer here.”

Courtesy Reiner

Silas Riener, Performer, Choreographer and Teacher

“It would be deeply comforting to seek solace and certainty in the foundations which built the work and artists of the 20th century, and the innovation of the early 21st. I feel the momentum to return, to get back, to go back, to be back. Maybe that is part of an insidious collective delusion. It’s so seductive to return to what was, but there was so much wrong. I suggest we take advantage of this moment to be aware, to be better. This is a moment of unlearning, of undoing. We are traumatized, we are brand-new little babies. We don’t know how to do anything.

“For those of us who teach and touch down in the university (and move through the reality of freelancing and making our own work), the empty promise of releasing young artists into a field we all know cannot support and employ most of them feels more hollow than ever. We rely on young artists who graduate to define the field. We hope they break the mold. We hope they find ways to live, but I worry we are not being honest about the tools we give them.

“I don’t have answers, I only have questions. Restlessness, uncertainty, unsettled-ness drive the works that feel the most important to me. So with utmost suspicion—and reverence—for the power of the past, I offer you Merce Cunningham, who said before nearly every class, ‘Let’s begin again.’”

Vanessa Chang, Senior Program Manager at Leonardo, The International Society for the Arts, Sciences and Technology

“What does it mean to move or not move in the world? The last year has called attention to who owns place and space. It’s very important to me to attend to the specificity of location, and work that does that, and that can invite people to move through it. Artistic practice can invite a different form of moving through that sustains attention that isn’t just spectacle. I think we really need to invite reflection.”

Courtesy Chang

Teena Marie Custer, Street Dance Theater Artist in Pittsburgh

“I think there were already cultural shifts happening in how concert dance was presented even before COVID-19. The circumstances that exist now will give the concert-dance community a chance to reassess equity in terms of who and what is seen.

Courtesy Custer

“Although I feel that humans will always have a need for live interaction with an audience (I have felt this through the absence of my street/social-dance community), we have normalized watching dance virtually, from TikTok to The Joyce livestreams. After having all my touring work canceled or moved to a virtual platform, I am reassessing what skills the new generation of dancers will need to navigate the new normal.”

Jessi Stegall, Dance Artist and Graduate Student at Harvard Medical School

“During the height of the pandemic, many members of the dance community found themselves out of work, questioning the sustainability of their role as artists, and considering, perhaps for the first time, the ever-present boundaries of their work. As someone who is consistently grappling with my own duality of ‘artist’ and ‘nonartist,’ I resonate with the seemingly mass identity crisis.

“This is not an obstacle—it is an opportunity to dig deeper into values. Let’s reestablish our communal and individual values of creative making. What does it mean to flourish as a dancer? As an artist? As a human? As writer and choreographer Andrew Simonet so eloquently puts it, ‘It’s better for the world to keep your mission and change your tactics than if you lose your mission and keep making art.’”

Courtesy Stegall

Ariane Michaud, Lead Producer at The Conference for Research on Choreographic Interfaces

“I used to find that interactions within the community existed in relation to the amount of work and play that we could get in every day. Many conversations revolved around ‘the hustle’ and the constant drive to do more, see more, be more. During COVID, artists, choreographers, producers were able to assess the imbalance that this placed on our lives and on the community as a whole. This pause did not come without hardship, however; taking a moment to reflect on the constant motion has created space to re-enter and re-create according to not only new physical standards but mental and emotional standards, as well.

“What should follow is a restructuring of the ways funding can and should support dancers, choreographers and arts administrators through this shift. The number of career pivots we are already seeing, alongside the fight to elevate the minimum wage, will affect the ways in which we gather as a community. In the current economy, it is no longer enough to do what you love.”

Ryat Yezbick, Assistant Director of the Shared Futures Program at the Guild of Future Architects

“Coming out of social isolation has felt both exhilarating and daunting; being amongst other people again has often left me feeling fatigued from a shared heightened sensitivity to ourselves and each other. To ‘catch up’ with others coming out of COVID is a somatic and emotional experience as much as it is an intellectual endeavor. The physical touch and proximity we were collectively denied, the nonverbal comforts we derive from being amongst each other, now feels like an ecstatic experience full of presence.

Courtesy Yezbick

“‘Catching up’ has therefore occurred through long-held hugs or impromptu dance parties, moments in which our bodies can collectively release all of the shared grief through the ritual of shared physical expression. How do we take this heightened presence and care for our inner worlds into all that we manifest in the future? How do we let this newfound sensitivity inform how we relate to ourselves and one another?”

Courtesy Miller

Andrea Miller, Founder and Artistic Director of GALLIM

“The threshold of the theater or museum—that’s not where art and creativity start or stop. We’re hopefully entering into a more ready climate to think about creativity and artistry without needing an invitation to enter the theater or museum. I wonder if we’re set up for it in terms of how schools teach dance. It might be a stretch. I’m really excited to see the kind of artistry and creativity that this time has invited people to value and adventure in, because I think that there’s more chances to become part of a conversation. We need strangers to dance. Strangers need you to set the conditions to dance.”

The post How Dance Experts Are Reimagining the Post-COVID World appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Movement for mental health: An interview with Alyson Stoner

I think we can all agree that mental health support is needed now more than ever. While therapy still carries a stigma and may not be accessible to everyone, movement is something we can all access. We recently sat down with Alyson Stoner, co-founder of Movement Genius, to hear all about this amazing platform that is changing the game for mental health.

Movement Genius is a digital wellness platform that provides live and on-demand classes to help people improve mental, emotional and physical well-being. Rooted in somatics and mind-body integration, the classes are developed by and for BIPOC, LGBTQIA+ and all kinds of humans with all kinds of bodies and experience. Co-founded by siblings Stoner (actress/activist) and Correy O’Neal (media executive/ business strategist), Movement Genius is committed to making deep and lasting personal transformation accessible, affordable and relevant.

Where did the inspiration for Movement Genius come from?

“Movement Genius was born after I led a 14-day series of mindful movement classes online. With mental health challenges rising, people really responded to having simple, guided movements that help you reconnect with yourself, reduce stress and improve your mood. We wanted to make sure people could access it anytime, so we built Movement Genius, a radically inclusive wellness platform that uses movement to improve mental health, all bodies and identities welcomed.”

What do you believe is missing from the mental health community with regard to movement?

“Right now, society still uses the term ‘mental health’ as if it only relates to the mind or brain (fixing our thoughts or brain chemistry). In reality, the mind lives in the body, and the body lives in an environment, and all three of these – mind, body, environment – are connected to and influencing one another. So, to care for our mental health, we must understand our mind-body connection and how it affects our well-being and how we show up in the world. Currently, movement is mostly understood in terms of fitness and exercise. While that definitely has benefits for your mental health, there are deeper opportunities to understand what your body is feeling and communicating. Before we even had verbal language to speak, many of our personal beliefs about basic safety, attachment to others and our place in the world were formed. So, paying attention to the body (and using movement) can help us access parts of ourselves where we don’t have clear words to communicate. Also, learning how to tune in and feel what’s happening inside our bodies can help us heal, reduce stress and experience deep transformation in our lives.”

How has movement impacted your mental health?

“For both of us [Correy and Alyson], movement was previously associated with performance and accuracy, due to our competitive dance background. Later, it was influenced by media and the diet and fitness industries, which seemed to say that we were never quite good enough if we didn’t reach a certain standard. We both, on our own time, realized that the body had stored a lot of our previous stresses and trauma but also was the source of deep intelligence and potential for healing. So, we started bringing the body into our healing journeys. Now, movement isn’t just fitness. It also includes learning about who we are and how to support ourselves by working with our bodies and minds to feel better.”

What makes this platform different with regard to diversity and inclusion?

“We know that the $4.5 trillion wellness industry is mostly built by and for white, cis, straight, non-disabled, middle-to-upper class people. While we personally belong to several of these categories, we recognize the need to radically expand the appearance of wellness, and to ensure that programs are designed by and for people of all identities, body types and preferences. From the web interface to the classes themselves, we’re striving to build-in accessibility every chance we can. We believe if you build for those who are underrepresented, you will actually ultimately create something that can serve everyone.”

Can you share some tips or exercises with readers?

“We’ve got a free class that you can try At Your Desk right now on movementgenius.com/at-your-desk-series. You can also follow us @movementgenius on Instagram and find the free class in our bio. A great starting point for rebuilding the mind-body connection is learning how to listen to your body. You can practice shifting your focus from outside in the room, to inside your being, to right at the surface of your skin. It may feel odd or difficult in the beginning, and that is totally normal. Go at your pace, and only do what feels manageable. Building trust with your body is an important part of the process, especially if it’s been awhile since you felt connected and grounded. You can spend one to three minutes practicing this focus technique throughout the day. Over time, your ability to identify your body’s feelings and sensations may improve, and you’ll be able to respond more supportively to what you need in the moment.”

As a dance/movement therapist, I am always looking for ways to make movement and mental health more accessible. If you or someone you know is struggling with mental health, finding ways to move your body can make all the difference. Movement is accessible to everyone. It doesn’t take a high IQ to be a movement genius!

By Erica Hornthal, LCPC, BC-DMT, Dance/Movement Therapist.

Erica Hornthal is a licensed professional clinical counselor and board certified dance/movement therapist based in Chicago, IL. She received her MA in Dance/Movement Therapy and Counseling from Columbia College Chicago and her BS in Psychology from the University of Illinois Champaign-Urbana. Erica is the founder and CEO of Chicago Dance Therapy, the premier dance therapy and counseling practice in Chicago, IL. As a body-centered psychotherapist, Erica assists clients of all ages and abilities in harnessing the power of the mind-body connection to create greater awareness and understanding of emotional and mental health. For more, visit www.ericahornthal.com.

The post Movement for mental health: An interview with Alyson Stoner appeared first on Dance Informa Magazine.