Mental health within the dance community: Leal Zielinska and Okay, Let’s Unpack This

Dance Informa had the opportunity to talk with Leal Zielinska, a dance artist and activist with a passion for bringing mental health issues into the light and finding ways to support dancers with the mental struggles they might face. Learn more about her and her important work below.

When did you start dancing? Can you give us a history of your life in dance?

“I grew up in Sopot, Poland, and started toddler ballet when I was about three years old. I stayed at that first dance studio until I was around 10, and then after that I danced in another studio in Poland that focused on ballet and hip hop. In my junior year of high school, I auditioned for So You Think You Can Dance and got on to the show. I turned 18 while on the show, and was the youngest and very inexperienced. The coolest part was meeting a few choreographers and older dancers who encouraged me to go to college and continue training. As the only artist in my family, that was the first time I realized, ‘Oh, this is something people actually do as a career.’

Through a series of Google searches, I found Codarts, applied and was accepted. During my freshman year, which at the time I thought was my one big chance at success in dance, I started having severe mental health issues. I became very depressed and anorexic, and had to drop out during my second semester, which was heartbreaking. I went home, quit dancing, was in and out of hospitals and facilities, trying different therapists and treatments for two years. I didn’t think I would dance ever again. To be honest, I wondered if I would ever make it out at certain points. With a lot of help from multiple support systems, I somehow managed to pull myself out of it.

Once I was more stable, I decided to go visit my ex-boyfriend who was attending The Ailey School in New York City. I had a roundtrip ticket to New York for a month in the summer of 2013, and I ended up staying for almost nine years. I had lost a lot of friends back home because of shame and stigma around mental health, and it felt like a good anonymous place for a fresh start. I started taking classes at Ailey and wasn’t sure if I wanted to dance again, but I ended up doing three semesters at The Ailey School. Then I met Sidra Bell, and she offered me an apprenticeship, so I worked with her for three years, one year as an apprentice and two years as a company member. I have a lot of respect and gratitude for Sidra.

In 2018, I felt like I wanted to explore what else was out there, and I was always interested in activism and how politics and art can productively blend together. I was somewhat aware of the work that the Gibney Company was doing, so I inquired and was lucky enough that they had one contract available. I auditioned and got the job with Gibney, and I danced with the company for three-and-a-half years, finishing with our show at The Joyce in November. The company that I joined was very small and grew very quickly, which was a wild ride. It was my first time working with a repertory company which was challenging in different ways. In January, I moved to London with my partner-to-be in a new immersive show. It’s a totally new chapter, and I’m really excited about it.”

What does dance mean to you? Why is it important, and how do you think it has the potential to effect social change?

“This is something that is constantly on my mind. I know what dance means to me. It’s something that I need kind of like air or water. It’s something that is necessary for me to feel complete and grounded and sane. It’s how I process information. It’s how I process emotion. It’s how I express, communicate and access parts of myself that I don’t know how to access elsewhere or don’t always feel comfortable or safe doing. For me, it’s something very organic, but it’s never really been enough for me to just dance for myself because I feel like that’s hugely selfish and there is way too much wrong with this world that I feel like I have the responsibility to at least address or question. It’s not enough to just sit back and enjoy the pleasures of movement.

I believe that the arts are a huge factor in cultural shifts. Art enables us to ask questions non-directly in potentially less invasive ways, which can sometimes be strategically more effective. My partner (who is a dancer and transdisciplinary artist) and I talk a lot about how effective things like public art can be in trying to get a message across, in getting people to think about something they might not otherwise have at the front of their mind. One power of dance in particular is that it can tell stories, even if they are nonlinear, and create shared experiences which promote empathy and foster a wider space for holding each other.

It’s a very strange world we live in, and there’s a whole lot wrong with it. I go back and forth nonstop all the time. I almost quit dance altogether last fall to go back to school to study sociology and psychology. It’s hard for me sometimes to justify being a dancer in the world we live in currently, but I also think that there’s something extremely powerful in using your absolute utmost strengths that you’ve been training in for years to ask questions, to provoke thoughts, to comment, and to share perspectives.”

How did you get the idea to start Okay, Let’s Unpack This? What’s the organization’s mission?

“When I joined Gibney, it was required that all dancers also create an advocacy fellowship. Because of my life experiences, my fellowship was very obviously going to be around mental health, and that’s where Okay, Let’s Unpack This was born. I thought about what was lacking in my own experience, and that informed what I wanted to offer. The idea started small with just having conversations about what the community needed, but it grew out of proportion, and I’m very grateful and humbled by how much it has developed in the last three years.

The mission of the organization is to create enough resources and awareness in the dance field that organizations like that Okay, Let’s Unpack This don’t need to exist anymore. To create an environment where it is no longer necessary, where dancers across the country have access to adequate, culturally competent, affordable (or preferably free) mental health care. To produce a genuine shift in the culture of companies and educational institutions.

With our generation, the conversation around therapy and mental health is way more open than it used to be. I think that’s insanely helpful, and some of the hardest parts for me about having gone through severe periods of mental health issues was the isolating factor in feeling like there was something wrong with me and like I was the only one who was experiencing these difficulties. I felt like a failure for not being strong enough, and there is a lot of reinforcement of those kinds of thoughts in the dance world.

It’s time to heal the culture in the dance community by normalizing conversations, creating safer spaces and holding people accountable to holding those safer spaces. One way to do this is through education. We do CPR and sexual harassment trainings all the time. Why not hold a mental health first aid training at your institution? Better yet, do it next week. There should be access to therapy for anyone who wants it that is catered to that individual. The dance community is diverse; there are a lot of queer people, people of color, immigrants, artists on Visas, artist with disabilities, etc., and all this needs to be factored in so that people are offered resources that are actually helpful to them rather than further harming or traumatizing.”

What are some of Okay, Let’s Unpack This’s offerings? Are there any challenges or success stories you can share?

“It’s hard to comment on challenges and success stories because everything is hyper-confidential. Most of the time, I feel like I am just behind my computer sending emails, making sure that everything is running smoothly. I rarely actually interact with people utilizing our services, so I just trust that everything is working fine and our data shows that everything is working great. Every now and then, someone will stop me and say, ‘Hey, I really appreciate Okay, Let’s Unpack This. I used this or that service, and it was awesome.’ But I don’t really expect that. It’s more that I know that these services are absolutely necessary, so I trust that offering them is working.

We offer both one-on-one therapy and biannual support groups, and everything is free of cost. The one-on-one therapy is on a first come, first served basis, and all our therapists are booked up right now because there is such a shortage. The support groups run for eight weeks once a week, have 10-12 people in them and are facilitated by a rotating group of facilitators.

Pre-pandemic, we also had in-person gatherings with story sharing and facilitators moderating. We did a pro-bono offering at one point when the pandemic started in March of 2020, which was really incredible because 25 therapists and private practices offered their services for free. Many of the therapists were former dancers or parents who had kids in dance and understood how much this was needed since the pandemic made the dance community even more unstable. We also offered for about a year therapy for our staff at the beginning of the pandemic. There have been a few social media campaigns dedicated to getting the word out, saying, ‘It’s okay to talk about this stuff.’ I had a big partnership with DIY Dancer Magazine, which ended up being an audio zine dedicated to mental health, which came out in June of 2021 (also on Spotify). Before the pandemic hit, we held free mental health first aid trainings in which we trained around 60-70 people.”

What’s next for the organization?

“Because we live in a nonprofit world, unfortunately a lot of what’s next for us depends on funding. The biggest influx of funding came at the beginning of the pandemic when mental health awareness was at its peak that I’ve ever seen in my lifetime. Right now, we are working on just maintaining our current offerings and not trying to grow. It’s been cool to track the data and see what resources are the most utilized in order to make the program more efficient and really prioritize the highest needs. The project already made a pretty big mark, and it’s up in the air whether it’ll continue in this current form or keep evolving, but we are officially good and budgeted through the end of the fiscal year.”

When you envision the dance world, say 10 or even 20 years from now, what do you hope to see?

“I’m honestly hopeful. I work with younger people sometimes, mostly teaching, and they are incredible. They’re so smart and so talented and so much better equipped and informed about their rights, needs and well-being than I was at their age. This is endlessly collective work; I’ve learned so much from people around me and am working to pass along what I can to younger dancers. I think if there’s an Okay, Let’s Unpack This in 2035, it will be a much more refined, better version of what it is today. Maybe such a drastic shift won’t happen in 10 years, but maybe it will and the organization won’t even be necessary anymore. In any case, I know it will happen. I see the change and certain things, if they don’t change, will just not make it through in this current world.”

To learn more about Okay, Let’s Unpack This, visit www.okayokayokay.org. 

By Charly Santagado of Dance Informa.

The post Mental health within the dance community: Leal Zielinska and Okay, Let’s Unpack This appeared first on Dance Informa Magazine.

Beyond Dance Challenges: 4 Choreographers Share Their Unique Approaches to TikTok

Can you remember the last time you thought of a clock when you heard the word “ticktock”? We can’t either. The TikTok app has brought new meaning to the word—and a new space for dancers to create and share the moves they’re making with the world.

TikTok has definitely evolved since it first launched in 2016—and living through quarantine brought droves to the platform out of pure boredom. But what’s remained true from the start is the popularity of dance-challenge videos. These “challenges” are less of a social competition to determine who is the best dancer, but serve as more of a call to the TikTok community to join in on the fun by recreating the movements they see. They typically follow a fairly standard format of simple, front-facing choreography, mostly consisting of upper-body movements that are usually fit for any beginner to learn.

Although the dance challenge “aesthetic” has undoubtedly fed the app’s popularity, there’s more going on in the dance world of TikTok. Some artists and choreographers are creating more than just viral challenges that turn with the wind. They are making works that aren’t meant to be duplicated (or, in proper TikTok terms, “duet”-ed), but instead stand alone as their own pieces of art, made specifically for the platform and to be appreciated as they are.

Behind the scenes of an El Choreography TikTok video. Courtesy Tucker and Wride.

Lea Tucker & Emry Wride, aka “El Choreography”

(@elchoreography) 51k TikTok followers

Lea Tucker and Emry Wride are two sisters who have mastered the art of creating a theater-like dance experience to be witnessed via your phone screen. Their dancers are often in full costume to give viewers the complete concept as it was visualized in their minds. With pure intention and emotion, they’ve showcased dancers—sometimes as soloists, other times in a small group—passionately bringing the lyrics from the soundtrack of the “Bridgerton” Netflix series to life through choreography that effortlessly communicates the message of each song.

When they joined: “We started using TikTok in January 2021. What drew us was definitely the #BridgertonMusical trend started by two extremely talented songwriters, Abigail Barlow and Emily Bear. We fell in love with the music, and it inspired us to start creating content on the app. In the beginning, the content was all ‘Bridgerton’-focused. Today, we’re branching out.”

The pros and cons: “The pros are how vast the audience range can be, and how quickly content can spread. People are very interactive, and creators are very collaborative on TikTok. The cons are how apparent view count is, and how the app values and rewards it. It can add unnecessary pressure to constantly produce viral videos.”

The inspiration: “During the pandemic, live performances stopped and TikTok provided a way for people to enjoy dance and theater safely. We were inspired to provide a theatrical experience through a screen and retell a story that so many people loved (‘Bridgerton’) through movement. We loved the Netflix series. After we heard one of Barlow and Bear’s songs, ‘Ocean Away,’ we knew that we had to choreograph to it. After we posted the first TikTok, the songwriters reached out, and from there we continued to collaborate through the app.”

The creative process: “First, we conceptualize and plan details, like dancers, costumes, etc. Then, we choreograph on the spot when the dancers are in the studio, which can take three to four hours. Right after learning the choreography, we begin the filming process.”

The payoff: “We’ve been able to connect with people all over the world, and also have been fortunate enough to have been interviewed and featured by a multitude of renowned media outlets.”

Jose Ramos, aka “Hollywood”

(@ayhollywoood) 57k TikTok followers

Known for working with names like Rihanna, Beyoncé and Jennifer Lopez, hip-hop choreographer Hollywood has found his niche on TikTok, which he likes to call “organized chaos.” As the creator of the viral #LightFlexChallenge, there’s no doubt that he can produce fun, easy-to-learn choreo. But what sets him apart on the app are the videos in which he films himself performing his choreography, along with eight or more other dancers, while seamlessly flowing in and out of frame, creating a full artistic experience specifically for a phone screen.

Jose Ramos, aka “Hollywood.” Courtesy Ramos.

When he joined: “I started using TikTok two years ago once I saw where social media was heading. I was mostly drawn in by the dance challenges at first.”

The pros and cons: “Unlike Instagram, you can easily gain a new audience and cultivate a following outside of your friends, mutuals and colleagues. You can also upgrade your brand by experimenting with different content strategies to find and connect with people from so many different regions. A con is definitely that trends become repetitive, and it can be hard to find ‘your thing’ without feeling like you’re selling yourself short.”

His creation process: “What inspired me was the already-established concept of framework that you see in dance videos on TikTok. I felt really inclined to up the ante by adding unique transitions, more choreography to fill the camera frame, and create ins and outs that are appealing to the eye. Each dancer is a student of mine, so we set up a date to meet and rehearse, and in exchange, I give them free classes. We take about two and half hours each rehearsal to prep everyone for a constantly moving routine. Whatever comes out in the moment while choreographing is what I piece together for the world to see on TikTok.”

What he hopes to gain: “I have definitely pitched the concept to some artists and brands, and I’m crossing my fingers that one day, some major brand(s) will pay us good money.”

Jack Ferver, aka “Little Lad”

(@thereallittlelad) 2.1M TikTok followers

If you hear the phrase “berries and cream” and think of the Starburst commercial that went viral during the early 2000s, then you’ll immediately envision­ one of the most memorable characters to ever grace your TV screen. (If not, a quick YouTube search will get you up to speed.) But what most viewers probably never would’ve guessed was that the actor playing the “little lad” was actually an experimental choreographer in real life. Jack Ferver is now bringing the Little Lad character back into the limelight more than a decade later—serving eerily humorous performance art on TikTok that is simply unrepeatable and just as viral, if not more, as the commercial that started it all.

Screenshot from the Little Lad’s TikTok account. Courtesy Ferver.

Life as the Little Lad: “When I did that Starburst commercial, I was just starting to make my own dance work. I would have some of my students saying ‘Oh my gosh, you were in that commercial!’ which I loved. (What I didn’t love was people just saying ‘Do the dance!’) I always appreciate when art slows me down, and I feel that freedom and pleasure with playfulness when I am creating as the Little Lad.”

What made them want to join: “It wasn’t until this past summer that my friend Reid Bartelme, who I used to do the Dance and Stuff podcast with, started sending me things that people were making on TikTok about the Little Lad character. Reid said, ‘Well, what are you going to do?’ And initially I said ‘Nothing,’ but eventually I saw one that I felt was making fun of the Little Lad, and I thought ‘Well, the Little Lad should appear themselves and take up their own space.’ So, one day I went to this wig store on 14th Street in New York City, held up the photo from the commercial, and said, ‘I need something that looks like this.’ ”

TikTok opportunities: “I’ve gotten requests for everything from appearing at a child’s birthday to making a cameo to cheer up someone that was going through a breakup. I also had a doctor reach out who wrote an incredibly kind note expressing their team’s fatigue during COVID, and how sharing one of my videos created a positive impact for them. Humor creates so much ventilation, and we all need to just breathe a lot more.”

What they love most: “I love how interactive it can be. Early on, I would open the app and just chat into people’s livestreams. I really love seeing the younger generation pushing forward important issues on the app, and I’ve likewise really enjoyed getting to see people of all ages express themselves or show us some new aspects of life. I also love that the app has some sense of mental-health check-in so that people don’t just fall into doom scrolling. And, of course, I appreciate that TikTok has a Creator Fund, which puts money back towards the people who are creating the amazing content that we get to experience.”

Their number-one goal when creating content: “As a queer kid who grew up in rural Wisconsin, an important part of my practice as an artist is questioning, ‘How do I get through to the child who suffers?’ Especially having a character like the Little Lad, I try to think, ‘Where could kids who might feel like they’re an outlier feel like they have a mirror, someone to play with, or someone to feel less alone with?’ My main goal is to make people feel less alone.”

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For Bebe Miller, Dance Is How She Understands the World

Most of my life in dance has taken place in the studio. Wait, that’s not right. My life in dance—as a choreographer, a dancer, a director, a collaborator, a watcher—happens almost everywhere, anywhere, most of the time. Dance is the way I digest what the world is teaching me. It’s the way I traverse the intersection of “What does this feel like?” and “What makes that particular space between people so…particular?” with “How does this move?” There’s a geometry at work as I’m noticing the dynamics of energy­ and timing and personality all around me. People move. They carry a kind of story-ness in how their bodies bend around each other on the street, in their homes, between breaths. And now in my life as a choreographer and an older dancer, the chance to shape the flow of these intersecting sensations—to music, to humming along, to silence, alone, with favorite and/or new partners—is immensely satisfying.

“Dance is the way I digest what the world is teaching me.”

Bebe Miller

Biggest change from the early years: less worry, more enjoyment. Hold up! Also not quite right. Though of course, yes, I worry less about how a work will come together. (There’s a lot to be said about faith in strategies that have worked before, even when the content is new.) And, yes, dancing in the last few years has been deeply satisfying even as my physical range has shifted. But my physical interest has also shifted. There is so much, still, to feel! So much to notice in the intricacies of timing and rhythm through one’s body. So much to respond to, whether you’re performing or figuring out what a specific sequence might involve. Or just dancing.

I love dancing; always have, always will. We get to be fully available, fully transcendent, deep in memory as well as the now. We get to share all of this in performance, and, when we’re lucky, we get to embody it all in the present moment, wherever we may be.

The post For Bebe Miller, Dance Is How She Understands the World appeared first on Dance Magazine.

What to Expect At Your First Dance Lesson!

Whether you’re learning some new moves for the first dance at your wedding or hoping to drop a few pounds before swimsuit season arrives, your first dance lesson can be a lot to handle.

Knowing what to expect during your lesson will help you stay focused and be ready to hit the dance floor. At Fred Astaire Dance Studios, our instructors will tell you about the first dance you are learning and show you how it’s done. Then it will be time for you to get your toes tapping. Don’t worry if you have trouble mastering the dance right away. With patience and practice, you’ll see amazing improvements!

Fred Astaire Dance Studios recommends taking steps to prepare for your first lesson to ensure you make the most of your time in the studio.

Wear the Right Clothes

Make comfort a top priority. Save the tight leotards and feathery costumes for another day. Dress in loose-fitting clothes that won’t hamper movement. It’s likely you will work up a sweat at your dance lesson, so donning light, breathable fabrics is your best bet.

Focus on Footwear

Wear comfortable shoes that provide adequate support. If sneakers feel too3 - clunky, consider wearing a shoe with a low heel. Ballet heels offer flexibility and are designed to slide without slipping to reduce the chance of injury.

Gather Some Supplies

Fred Astaire Dance Studios recommends bringing a small, exercise towel and refillable water bottle to your lesson. Staying hydrated will help you keep your energy level up and improve your concentration. Some of our students also bring a small notebook to take notes on dance moves so they can practice at home.

Be On Time

Your instructors time is valuable, so please take advantage of it! Showing up on time will ensure you are able to make the most of your lesson. Plus in larger classes, arriving late can disrupt the teaching process and be a distraction for your fellow students. If you miss the pre-lesson stretch, your chances of pulling a muscle or spraining your ankle will be higher!

Have Fun!

Remember, the best way to learn to dance is to have fun. Our dance instructors don’t expect you to be experts at your first lesson and they know it will take time and practice to learn the steps. Be patient, keep smiling, and enjoy your time at Fred Astaire Dance Studios! If you get frustrated after your first lesson, don’t give up. Remind yourself that practice makes perfect!

Ballet Could Be a Home for Autistic Dancers Like Me

“Watch your thumbs,” the ballet teacher said, and I looked toward my left thumb, held in second position. After a few seconds I realized what she actually meant was to tuck my thumb into my palm. I tend to take things literally.

I was diagnosed with autism a few months ago, at age 25, but I’ve been autistic my whole life. In many ways ballet class has been a safe place for me, even before I knew why I craved routine, envi­ronments with explicit rules, and social situations that don’t necessitate talking.

Ballet class’ standardized structure offered me stability as I learned the art form, starting at age 12. Autistic brains don’t automatically filter out unimportant information, rendering routine critical. Parts of my day need to be familiar if I’m taking in every sound outside my window, every leaf on the sidewalk, the way my curls feel different on my head each morning. Because the order of ballet class is consistent, I’m better able to process new information, including combinations and corrections.

Parts of class even helped my social development. Most social settings come with a high number of implied rules that can feel elusive and ever-changing to autistic people. During adolescence, I’d intuit that I’d broken a social rule but be unsure of what my mistake was. In ballet, the rules were stated directly. Once, some girls were standing in front of my teacher while she taught a combination, and she told them, “The student stands behind the teacher when they’re teaching.” Her specificity was clarifying. These explicit ballet-etiquette lessons set me up for greater success in the studio.

Because class resembles parallel play—a stage of social development when children prefer to play independently beside each other rather than interactively—it also provided me with fulfillment that I struggled to find in unstructured environments, like hanging out with friends. Autistic people can find parallel play rewarding into adulthood, unlike many of their allistic (non-autistic) peers. During the pandemic, my roommate took virtual ballet classes and, with little else to do, I started taking them beside her. I realized­ ballet is a way to feel close without language—to feel part of a community without having to navigate complex social interactions.

“I realized ballet is a way to feel close without language—to feel part of a community without having to navigate complex social interactions.”

Emily DeMaioNewton

Along with the ways ballet has enriched my life, however, there are plenty of elements of studio culture that alienate autistic dancers. Before my diagnosis, I internalized shame about how my brain and body work, because many assumptions made during ballet class didn’t apply to me—that people swing their arms in opposition to their legs while walking, for example, which I don’t. Growing up, one of my studios banned skirts because students would fidget with them. Autistic people (and other groups, like people with ADHD) need to “stim” to regulate themselves physically and emotionally. “Stim” is short for “self-stimulatory behavior” and can include things like rocking, hand flapping and other repetitive motions. While correcting extraneous movement during dancing is justifiable, criticizing a student for fiddling with their skirt while waiting to go across the floor is unnecessary. When I let myself stim during ballet class, I learn combinations more quickly and can better regulate my emotions. While some teachers may argue this doesn’t prepare dancers for the professional world, I believe that the professional world should make reasonable changes to become more inclusive.

Ballet also comes with a host of sensory stimuli—unique fabrics, hairspray-filled dressing rooms, loud music—that can be a nightmare for autistic dancers. Sensory issues, which are unique to each individual’s nervous system, can register as physical pain and aren’t merely dislike. For example, my childhood studio’s dress code required a specific make of leotard, and the sensation of the sleeves on my skin sometimes triggered sensory overload. When a dancer complains about uniforms, costumes or music, I encourage teachers to investigate the reason. Whether it is a sensory issue, a body-image issue or something else, a nonjudgmental and open conversation will get closer to the heart of the problem.

Unaddressed sensory processing difficulties can even have dangerous effects in the long term. For most of my life, I’ve had hip discomfort while dancing that I thought was just related to muscle engagement. However, I recently learned the sensation is a chronic injury. Autistic people struggle with interoception: the perception of sensations inside one’s body. It’s hard for me to differentiate between soreness, pain and engagement. I’ve started seeing a physical therapist who helps me identify the differences, but talking about pain identification is a conversation teachers should have with all of their students.

Changes like these will include not only dancers who have requested accommodations but also those who may not know their disabilities or have the language to ask for what they need. Autistic women and people of color are much less likely to be formally diagnosed with autism as children, or ever, because of gender and racial disparities in research and bias in the diagnostic process. Each individual’s needs are unique, and there will never be a one-size-fits-all accommodation. But the first step to making sure everybody feels safe and included in a classroom is to value dancers’ autonomy. Allow input from students when solving problems; ask before touching a student and respect their answer; when a dancer expresses a need, consider creative solutions to meet it.

It would have helped me to have conversations about why certain rules existed. Discussing the reasoning for uniforms might have given me permission to approach a teacher and explain why it was difficult for me to wear the class leotard. But in my experience, the only talk of uniforms was dancers being reprimanded for not wearing them, which made me afraid to ever mention my discomfort. As Keith Lee, director of diversity and inclusion at Charlottesville Ballet, put it in a conversation with me: “Don’t discourage the artist. Take notice and act on their discovery. Their honesty, approach and involvement is their contribution to the art.”

After seriously considering a career in dance as a senior in high school, I decided not to pursue one because of the parts of dance institutions that ostracized me. I feel unwelcome in the art form when I see companies and studios perform for autistic audiences while failing to accommodate autistic dancers in their classrooms. Still, I continue to love ballet, and I regularly take classes from teachers who are patient, respectful of my needs and nonjudgmental of my differences. I hope that all autistic dancers can find teachers who celebrate them and that, as time goes on, more of us find safe and welcoming places in the field.

The post Ballet Could Be a Home for Autistic Dancers Like Me appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Ailey’s Jacqueline Green on Representation in Dance

As a Black girl from the inner city of Baltimore, I hadn’t known anything about the codified world of dance growing up. Ballet was something I had only seen on TV—and who I saw in it never looked like me. I never thought that would be my future.

My first introduction to dance was at my audition for the Baltimore School for the Arts, and from there a love bloomed. It didn’t happen on the first day; it grew gradually, up until that one class where I was finally able to successfully execute a combination that we had been working on for a month—something that, at first, I didn’t fully believe I could accomplish. The recognition came from my teacher, but the real reward was for myself. That confidence brought about a self-awakening. Dance made me believe that I could achieve anything.

“Dance made me believe that I could achieve anything.”
Jacqueline Green

Fast-forward a year, and I met someone who turned what I thought about the world of dance upside down: Linda-Denise Fisher-Harrell. At that time, she was a principal dancer with the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater. After seeing her, I made a mental checklist: Black girl from Baltimore. Check. Performing in front of thousands of people around the world. Check. Getting paid to dance. Check. People accepting and being inspired by her artistry. Check. There were no more excuses for me to not take this dance thing seriously.

Once I made up my mind that it was possible to have a professional relationship with dance, my life changed. Dance taught me so much: Respect for my body, commitment, freedom of self, a strong work ethic, self-reflection. It taught me to love myself not “flaws and all,” but completely and uniquely for who I am. There is only one me, my story is different, and in this world I can be rewarded for it. I am a beautiful, Black girl from Baltimore and also a principal dancer with the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater. Representation matters.

The post Ailey’s Jacqueline Green on Representation in Dance appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Relieve Daily Stress With Dance!

Fred Astaire Dance Studios urges people to cut loose on the dance floor to help reduce stress and alleviate anxiety during trying times.

Watching Russia’s invasion of Ukraine unfold on national television and social media is mobilizing Americans to take action by providing humanitarian aid and support for the people of the democratic nation. At the same time, the onslaught of grim news is contributing to rising stress levels throughout the United States. A new report from the American Psychological Association reveals global unrest, inflation, and supply chain troubles are significant sources of stress for Americans. Results from the poll are particularly troubling, given the undue stress people are still coping with due to the ongoing pandemic.

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Fred Astaire Dance Studios is doing its part to help Americans de-stress. Our local studios provide a safe haven where people can briefly cast their worries aside and let their bodies move to the music. While reducing screen time, eating a healthy diet, and meditation can all help reduce stress, we recommend hitting the dance floor. Here are a few reasons dancing is the best stress reliever.

  • Boosts Mood. Dancing releases endorphins, which are natural painkillers and can help elevate mood and improve focus.
  • Fosters Creativity. Dancing provides a creative outlet for expressing your emotions in a positive atmosphere. Trying out new routines is a great way to keep your mind busy and active, another great stress relief habit.
  • Soothes Body. Dancing helps increase flexibility, which will help relieve the tension and stiffness caused by stress. Make sure to do your stretches first though!

Fred Astaire Helped Americans Cope During Stressful Time

Our founder, Fred Astaire, brought ballroom dancing to the masses during another stressful time in American history. During the Great Depression, watching films showcasing Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers dancing their hearts out helped many Americans weather a period in history full of hardship. Astaire took his commitment to helping the American people a step further when he co-founded Fred Astaire Dance Studios in 1947. He wanted to establish a chain of studios under his name to make sure that his techniques would be preserved and passed onto the public, and that’s a legacy we are proud to carry forward to this day!

Meet Sam Chouinard, Choreographer for Olympic Gold Medalist Figure Skaters

Have you ever watched figure skating and wondered who choreographs the athletes’ programs? Well, meet Sam Chouinard, a Canadian choreographer who works with some of the world’s highest-ranking skaters. For the Beijing 2022 Olympics, he’s collaborated with athletes from the U.S., Canada, China, Spain, France, Great Britain and Japan. Most notably, Chouinard choreographed the “Rocket Man” free program for gold medalist Nathan Chen and worked with the French ice dance team, Gabriella Papadakis and Guillaume Cizeron, on their waacking short program, which helped them achieve gold overall.

How did you begin choreographing for figure skating?

Figure skating is not my background. I was able to move on ice with skates, but just for fun. Seven years ago, I was introduced to the sport through my ballet teacher, who was already coaching athletes at the Ice Academy of Montreal. It was one of the first years that hip hop was used. The owner of the school asked me if I wanted to play with their skaters, and they loved the job that I did.

What was your dance background?

I was trained in contemporary, jazz, musical theater and hip hop. I was not a master of any of them, but I was a good chameleon for any type of show. That was very helpful when I started to choreograph for ice skating, synchronized swimming and gymnastics. Working with Cirque du Soleil touched all of those dance styles.

What was it like helping Nathan Chen move from a more balletic style to hip hop on ice?

This guy is a genius, he’s just so brilliant. For sure, we wanted to bring the party vibe out of this program. It’s the Olympics—you want to make people feel something. When you know your competitors, if you want to stand out, you need to think differently.

What is your process like?

We always start with a bunch of choreo and mapping it to the music. Once we have a big enough chunk of moves, we go and play on the ice. When I started, I had the tendency of wanting to put dance breaks everywhere, but it was just cutting the flow. I realized that what looked the best in figure skating is that speed and glide.

Do you find choreographing for figure skating challenging?

There are so many rules. The biggest challenge is making sure we can score the notes and then elevate the dance to another level. So, they can dance the technique and not look like they’re trying to replicate a dance, but really dance it. That is one of our strengths. I feel like the Russians are very strong technically, but when you take a look at their programs, the way the choreography is made, it’s more based on the technical side of it.

How do you help skaters develop their artistry?

It’s really the work of making them understand the weight transfer and being grounded. How can you feel your rib cage, your core, and use it so we don’t look too straight or stiff? The more you dance, the more you sell your program and the more you sell it, the more you can polish your technique.

What is it like to choreograph for skaters who are competing against each other?

That’s really hard for me because I want to give myself 100 percent to all of the couples. But it’s up to them what they’re going to do with the material I give them. It’s fun to see my moves, but then it’s fun to see how they digest it and make it their own.

What are some of your favorite programs you’ve choreographed?

Moulin Rouge for Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir has a special place in my heart because it was my first Olympic program and we won gold. One of the coolest to create was the Chock/Bates free program. Another was the Janet Jackson one. The Great Britain one to The Lion King was very fun to choreograph to a Broadway vibe, and then there’s Gabby/Guillaume with the waacking.

How did you also start choreographing for the Canadian synchronized swimming team?

The Olympic and sports world is a small world. I knew nothing about synchronized swimming, but I watched a lot of videos, and even if I’m not physically able to do it, I can have a big enough imagination. We work on formations and cleanliness of the arms. At the Olympic Stadium in Montreal where they train, if you go down a couple of stairs, there’s a window underneath the pool, so I get to see underwater.

What are you working on now?

We’re still with our teams that are not at the Olympics but are going to Worlds and we are also prepping the junior teams. I booked a Disney movie as a choreographer—it’s going to be a Christmas movie. I also booked a Cirque show in Montreal. The most exciting thing recently is I’ve been hired to be the main choreographer of a full season for a TV show in Japan. They also asked me to be the artistic director, which is my first time being an artistic director. I’m so excited and nervous but also ready to jump into the challenge.

Any advice for dancers?

Don’t limit yourself. Dance can be used in many different ways and many different artforms. Figure skating is not the lane I thought my life would go, and it turns out by just being open, it brought things into my life I never thought would be possible.

The post Meet Sam Chouinard, Choreographer for Olympic Gold Medalist Figure Skaters appeared first on Dance Magazine.

The Ballet Job Market Needs a Market (Re)Design

The pandemic has contributed to many shifts in the dance world, as the community has outspokenly criticized longstanding practices and cultural norms. However, no one has called into question the structure (or, rather, the lack thereof) of the job market. As a now-retired ballet dancer of nearly a decade and a PhD student in economics at Harvard, I know that incorporating basic lessons from economics could change the game for both dancers and directors.

The ballet job market is what an economist would refer to as a “matching market”—you cannot simply choose where to go, but you must also be chosen. What makes the ballet market peculiar is that, unlike most professional athletic markets, directors have vastly different preferences for dancers and they mostly do not (and cannot) compete for hires with salaries. Rather, dancers are first and foremost committed to finding their best artistic fits and are often willing to work for less than their worth.

This phenomenon would not be quite as problematic if dancers and directors were nonetheless matched efficiently. Unfortunately, there are two major failures that plague the current system.

First, although many, but not all, major ballet companies in the U.S. operate under the dancers’ union AGMA, there is virtually no regulation in terms of hiring. Deadlines to hold auditions, renew or cancel contracts are company-specific and are not standardized industry-wide. This is problematic because when streams of dancers are released into the audition market at different times, both companies and dancers can end up with undesirable results.

Here’s an example: A dancer knows she will be let go early in the season and begins a job search right away. Other companies, ones that hold auditions later or whose dancers have several months to return their contracts, do not know how many places they will have available and so they tell her they might—or might not—make her an offer down the road. She may then feel pressured to accept an offer that expires in a matter of weeks from another, less preferred company.

Still, she’s better off than the dancer who’s let go after auditions have already passed. I’ve also known directors to rescind verbal offers to dancers very late in the season, instigating a chain reaction that not only leaves the dancer worse off, but also the other companies that would’ve preferred to hire her but were unable to do so.

This coordination failure is made worse by the fact that many dancers wishing to leave their current jobs typically do not announce their departures until they’ve secured other positions—and for good reason. But directors at saturated companies cannot make additional offers until they know who is definitively leaving. This is what I refer to as “holdup.” There are many favorable “trades” available across companies, but either someone has to first give up their job without a guarantee of another, or a director needs to seek out additional funds in order to start the trading process.

This is where market design comes in. This field, which seeks to find economic engineering solutions to practical problems, has studied similar failures in markets like the medical residency matching program, public school choice and vaccine allocation.

One of the central tenets of good market design is creating market “thickness,” or bringing together as many people as possible at once so the best outcomes can be achieved. By centralizing industry-wide contract renewal dates and audition time-frames, not only would companies avoid coordination failures, but this would also eliminate the unnecessary anxiety that dancers face by not knowing when they might receive an offer and when they should accept one.

This practice has become commonplace in other highly competitive settings in the U.S., such as legal clerkships and PhD programs, which do not require students to accept any offers before a standardized date. It is also the reason why most markets that bring together various traders, including the New York Stock Exchange, open and close at the same time each day.

In other settings, centralized clearinghouses have been enormously effective in eliminating similar market failures. Specifically, what I have in mind is a variant that I’ve designed of the well-known top trading cycles algorithm. It would work something like this: After all company departures have been announced and auditions held, dancers and directors would simply submit their preferences to a centralized algorithm that would quickly determine final assignments based on those preferences. While this may sound radical, variants of top trading cycles have been used in school assignment settings and most notably in the kidney exchange system in the U.S., an innovation for which economist Alvin Roth was awarded the Nobel Prize in 2012.

The assignments resulting from this process are guaranteed to be efficient. The process also encourages all dancers to submit their preferences over companies truthfully, eliminating another major element of anxiety. By streamlining hiring in this way, both parties get their best shots at their most preferred counterparts, while trades across companies at capacity can happen swiftly and without the need for additional expense.

Of course, centralized clearinghouses are most effective when the majority of the market agrees to partake in them. While leaders may fear that this would require them to relinquish some control, they would only make offers to the dancers who they would under the best possible scenario, and the gains they would achieve by thickening and coordinating the market would far outweigh any perceived losses.

As new leaders begin to take the reins at companies around the globe, time will tell whether they will be brave enough to challenge the status quo and reshape the marketplace in a way that truly works for both dancers and directors.

The post The Ballet Job Market Needs a Market (Re)Design appeared first on Dance Magazine.

Jason Brown Is the Ultimate Dancers’ Skater at the Winter Olympics

For dance-inclined fans, singles figure skating can be a frustrating sport to watch. Sure, choreography, music and costumes are part of it; but over the past decade, they have often felt like an afterthought in the race to pack programs with increasingly hard (meaning quadruple) jumps.

At the Beijing Winter Olympics, which opened today, technical content will again be key to determining podium placement. Yet there is one man you won’t want to miss, regardless of his ultimate ranking: Jason Brown, the American wonder who treats the ice like a dance stage and will no doubt go down as one of the sport’s greatest and most versatile performers.

Brown broke through in 2014, and not just because he earned a bronze medal in the team event at the Sochi Olympics: His exhilarating “Riverdance” free skate went viral in a way few skating programs do, garnering millions of views. A perfect match of choreography and performer, it built anticipation exquisitely, from the elegant opening arm movements to the effervescent, Irish-dance–inspired footwork sequences that start around the two-minute mark. (The standing ovation at the U.S. Championships began before Brown had even hit the final note.)

While he won the U.S. national title the next year, the quadruple-jump race heated up internationally post-Sochi. More and more skaters brought multiple “quads” to the table, leaving Brown—who has occasionally included one in his programs, but never achieved consistency with them—in a difficult position.

Still, while he has no individual world or Olympic medals, he has consistently placed in the top 10 internationally. “Artistry” doesn’t fully capture the quality of Brown’s work. Outside ofjumps, his technical skills are widely recognized as some of the finest in figure skating. His spins, for instance, are lightning-fast and perfectly centered. (And they include gorgeous flourishes: Just watch the free arm in some of them, with the balletic placement of the fingers and curved lines complementing the legs.)

Brown also scores very high program component scores (PCS), which count toward a skater’s total along with technical elements—a reward for the speed, flow, effortless transitions and performance quality he brings to the table. Yet under the current system, PCSs don’t differentiate enough between skaters to compensate for a lack of quadruple jumps; in fact, they even tend to rise along with the technical content.

That seemingly unavoidable ceiling nearly led Brown to retire in 2018, after he failed to make the last Olympic team. “I really didn’t see a future for me in this sport, unless I could do quads,” he told NBC last year. Instead, he moved to Toronto to train with the renowned Tracy Wilson and Brian Orser, whose long list of protégés includes two-time Olympic champion Yuzuru Hanyu (one of the top medal prospects in Beijing) and the 2018 bronze medalist Javier Fernández.

And figure skating should be very grateful that this fan favorite stuck around. Over the past four years, Brown ditched his trademark ponytail and achieved new levels of artistic maturity. In 2019, he came back with “Love Is a Bitch,” a slow-burning short program subtly tailored to Two Feet’s sensual song. As always, Brown doesn’t merely cross the ice to get to the next big element: Every step is three-dimensional, with quick changes of direction, head tilts and développés all perfectly timed to either the melody or the bass line. (Imagine doing all of this not on marley but on actual ice.)

Again in black, at the Winter Olympics this year he will skate to Nina Simone’s “Sinnerman”—another fully realized piece that has earned Brown renewed standing ovations. Just watch the recurring hand motifs, from the jazzy start to claps matching the song, or his expressive use of the torso in the extremely fast step sequences. Also, the casual over-split jump (a Brown trademark) to over-split développé. And the arm briefly coming up to his heart in the final spin. The list of details goes on, and speaks to the level of finesse that goes into his work.

As with “Riverdance,” the choreography is by Rohene Ward, Brown’s longtime choreographer. A former skater himself, Ward also learned tap, hip hop and ballet from a young age. Since Brown’s move to Toronto, Ward has choreographed only his short programs, with David Wilson taking over the longer free ones: after Simon & Garfunkel and “Slaughter on Tenth Avenue” programs, Brown brings “Schindler’s List” to Beijing. It’s a more traditional choice for figure skating, but Brown, who is Jewish, said he waited until he “felt capable of conveying that story.”

The 27-year-old, who came out as gay last year, is without a doubt the total package at this point in his career. He has persevered in a sport that doesn’t really reward artistic excellence with medals, putting huge amounts of energy into the quality of his programs where others might have held back a little to focus on nailing quads. (He is also fun and fabulous in exhibitions, as this carefree Justin Timberlake number suggests.) Brown has been called a skaters’ skater; he is also arguably the ultimate dancers’ skater. Whatever happens in Beijing, an artist will have graced the Olympic ice once more.

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