A Farewell to Trisha Brown
For many in the dance world, Trisha Brown has become a sacred figure. She made works that were beautiful in a whole new way, coaxing the dance world out of its theatrical narrative and into a beguiling state of what she called "pure movement." From her early works at Judson Dance Theater to the magnificent operas she directed, she found new pathways of motion in the body. A huge influence on the international dance world, she created drama and exhilaration out of pure experimentation. As Doug Elkins wrote in a condolence text, "She was a tsunami and tea ceremony all at the same moment."
Brown in Water Motor, Photo by Johan Elbers, courtesy DM Archives
Her early work is still iconic: Walking on the Wall (1971, which created the thrillingly disorienting illusion that you were looking down on people from above), Floor of the Forest (1970, where the audience had to crouch down to really see what was happening) and Water Motor (1978, caught gloriously by the filmmaker Babette Mangolte). In her mid-career work, like Glacial Decoy (1979), Set and Reset (1983) and Newark (1987), she challenged the conventions of the proscenium stage. She made asking questions part of the audience's experience.
Her treatise on "pure movement" in the 1970s wiped the slate clean and reset modern dance in a search for movement itself. People love repeating the last line: "If I am beginning to sound like a bricklayer with a sense of humor, you are beginning to understand my work."
Having danced with Trisha in the 1970s when the company was just five women, and having followed her choreography since then, I would say she was both a groundbreaking artist as well as a woman-centered leader. She invited people to think, move and see differently. And she was generous and caring toward her dancers.
Brown, PC Lois Greenfield
She had a keen eye for all kinds of spaces. She said she felt sorry for places that weren't center stage—the corners, walls and wing space. She caused a revolution by simply, sweetly, turning to spaces that other dance-makers don't, and that could be trees, lakes or firehouses. To this day, with the recent wave of dance in museums, her early work fits more easily into a museum setting than anyone else's.
But she also caused a revolution in the space that is the human body. She rejected the pulled up stance of ballet and the tortured torque of Martha Graham. She loved Merce Cunningham's work but she had no wish for dancing bodies to be so upright. She was going for something else, something more yielding, more off-balance. She found new pathways for the energy to flow through the body and she found pleasure in disorientation—of both performer and audience. In her choreography the sensuality of the relaxed, articulate body is contained only by a rigorous structure. And she could be a demon when it came to editing her own work. As company alum David Thomson wrote on Facebook, "Her fire was fierce and her mind was like a knife, cutting away at the unnecessary and creating new three-dimensional figures and ideas."
Starting with Improvisation
Trisha's earliest works were improvised. She had learned to deploy task-like structures from Anna Halprin when she studied with her in California in 1960. She later experimented with "rule games" and other structures with Simone Forti. In Trillium (1961) Trisha took a basic improvisation exercise to either lie down, sit or jump, and did it her own way. "I made my decision about lying down and jumping at the same time," she said in a 1980 interview. Forti provided a soundscape of whistling and scraping. By all accounts, Trillium was a wild solo that made people believe Trisha could suspend herself in the air.
Trisha often asked her dancers to improvise based on either a loose idea (e.g. "Line up" or "Read the walls") or explicit verbal instructions. She wanted the look and feel of improvisation, but for the dance to be repeatable. That aesthetic reached its peak in her astonishing solo Water Motor (1978). Mangolte's tantalizing film of it has become essential viewing for students of postmodern dance.
When she taught us a choreographic sequence, her movement was so elusive that I remember thinking, "She teaches it as a solid but she dances it like a liquid." The key to attaining that liquid quality was to know in your own body how one impulse triggers another, to know where and when to let go. While Trisha rejected the term "release technique," the dancers have to be precise about utilizing release as well as strength.
Lines vs. Chaos, Rigor vs. Sensuality
One of the Brownian paradoxes is that she framed the sense of discovery she got from improvisation with a rigorous visual or mathematical order. In Line Up, which we made collectively in the mid 70s, lines of people would materialize and dissolve—like following one's own thoughts. These sections were framed by brief line dances she had created earlier. Injected into this alternation was a new sequence called "Solo Olos." She was meticulous about the details, though her relaxed body camouflaged that precision. In this archival clip, Trisha and I are laying down that sequence in unison.
It was never performed in unison this way, but she wanted her neighbor, the videographer David Gigliotti, to capture the building blocks of what would become the complex "Solo Olos" section of Line Up in which we had to respond immediately to a caller giving commands to reverse, go forward or launch into a variation. When I look at this clip, I see the beginnings of a new kind of body logic—folding the body on different lines for functional purposes, channeling Halprin's idea of task improvisation into fixed choreography. If you watch it carefully, you will see the point at which the phrase goes into retrograde.
Trisha loved her home territory of the Pacific Northwest woods; come summer, she often returned there to take her son, Adam, backpacking. While teaching one section of "Solo Olos" she said, "Imagine you are seeing Puget Sound in the distance and are tracing it with your fingers."
It wasn't landscapes alone that captivated her; it was the human body in an environment. InGroup Primary Accumulation (1973), she set the inevitable curves of the body against the absoluteness of lines, and then set the whole dance in a new environment, for instance on a pond in Minneapolis. The dance is incredibly sensual to do and to see, and yet the accumulation score keeps the mind strictly focused. (Click here to see a 2008 performance of it in Paris.) While we were on tour, Trisha told me, "When I am doing Primary, I'm thinking, 'This is all there is.' ""Spanish Dance," 1979s with Lisa Kraus, Mona Sulzman, Trisha Brown, Perron, and Elizabeth Garren, photo © Babette Mangolte
In the iconic "Spanish Dance" (1973), five women tread slowly across the stage, accumulating one at a time to form a crush of bodies that hits the proscenium wall on the last note of Bob Dylan's rendition of Gordon Lightfoot's "Early Morning Rain." Each woman is sandwiched by others, flesh on flesh, swaying pelvis upon swaying pelvis. The audience can see where the line of women is heading but the physicality of it still elicits chuckles of delight.
Perron with Elizabeth Garren, rehearsal forSplang, mid-70s, photo © Babette Mangolte
Over the years—Brown has created about 100 works including operas—I saw a progression from simplicity to complexity, from clear strategies to hidden strategies, from orderliness to seeming disarray. Set and Reset (1983), with is freeform look and lids-off sense of play, creates a kind of sublime chaos. With tantalizing music by Laurie Anderson and set by Robert Rauschenberg, it's a masterwork that offers an unbounded sense of possibility. While jogging from upstage to downstage, Stephen Petronio suddenly got yanked offstage by Trisha grabbing his neck. Another time, Diane Madden, like a pebble skittering on a lake, gets pulled by one dancer, tossed by another and finally hurled into the arms of a third dancer who suddenly appears to catch her on the other side of the stage. Brown's choreography brings to mind this quote from physicist Carlo Rovelli that I heard on the radio program On Being: "Quantum physics doesn't describe how things are, but how things interact with each other."
Set and Reset is so overflowing with unpredictable interactions and close calls, that it took me three times of watching it to realize that simple walking and running are also woven into the dance. Trisha taught us to see things that are not obvious. And to keep looking.
Her trajectory of simplicity to chaos is paralleled by the trajectory of earth to air. Just as she managed to catapult herself to hover in the air for Trillium, and to function horizontally whileWalking on the Walls of the Whitney, she set dancers afloat above the ground—with assistance from objects—in Planes (1968), Floor of the Forest (1970) and Lateral Pass (1985)
In the opera L'Orfeo (1998), the opening scene sets Diane Madden airborne, floating/flying as the demigod Musica. When working in opera, Trisha allowed herself to use metaphor. Talking about this role for Madden in our March 2002 issue, she said, "When Di lay backwards in the air and then lifted her head, it reminded me of the domed paintings in Italy with angels looking down from the edge of heaven."
Dance and Visual Art
Trisha wanted to bestow dance with the same seriousness accorded visual art. That meant, in the balance of art and entertainment, tipping more toward art and less toward entertainment. When we gave lecture-demonstrations in the '70s and the question came up, Why don't you dance to music, she would counter with, "Do you walk around a piece of sculpture and ask why there is no music?"
Trisha's diagram for the accumulation structure of Pyramid (1975), Courtesy Perron's archives
It was natural for her to collaborate with some of the best artists of our time, including Robert Rauschenberg, Nancy Graves, Donald Judd and Elizabeth Murray. She was a visual artist too; her drawings have been shown in galleries in the U.S. and abroad.Trisha's diagram for the accumulation structure ofPyramid (1975), Courtesy Perron's archives
Back to the Beginning
Trisha always went back to the beginning, questioning the assumptions that have built up. In clearing the air of modern dance "heroics" in the early '60s, she had comrades in Judson Dance Theater like Yvonne Rainer and Steve Paxton. Yvonne ran, screamed or lugged mattresses around. Steve walked or stood still or struck an athletic pose. Trisha fell and got up and favored being upside down. While that's a simplification of the experiments at Judson, it shows how committed they were to getting down to basics, how much they aimed for the "ordinary" (to use their teacher Robert Dunn's term).
For Trisha that meant channeling the radical into an ordinary container. In her statement on pure movement mentioned earlier, she wrote, "I make radical changes in a mundane way.
Glacial Decoy. From left: Trisha Brown, Nina Lundborg, Lisa Kraus. PC Babette Mangolte, Courtesy DM Archives
When she started creating works for the proscenium stage, she started at the beginning again, enlisting Rauschenberg's help in questioning the conventions of the stage. In Glacial Decoy (1979), they both envisioned the dance extending beyond the proscenium, creating the illusion that the dance extended beyond the wings. For Set and Reset (1983), he made the stage wings transparent, blurring the boundary between performing and not performing.
Trisha Brown has guided us through the transformation from modern dance into postmodern dance. Her influence permeates the international dance world. Young dancers who fling their limbs and allow the weight of the body to take its own time may never have seen her company. But they've taken a workshop somewhere and this style of movement has seeped in. Even if they haven't seen it first-hand, her way of moving is now in the air. It's like a Trisha Brown mist that dancers all over the world are breathing in.
And one can catch glimpses of her imagery recycled in works by younger choreographers, whether consciously, as with Beth Gill, or unconsciously, as with many others.
Brown, PC Vincent Pereira
Some alums from the company continued to choreograph including Stephen Petronio, Vicky Shick, Eva Karczag, Lance Gries and David Thomson
Although Trisha is beloved in New York, Minneapolis and Seattle, it is in France where she is lionized. She's premiered many of her works there, been honored as a Commandeur dans l'Ordre des Arts et des Lettres, and was invited to make a new work on the Paris Opéra Ballet. When POB brought the trio that Trisha made for their étoiles to BAM, I basked in the quiet beauty of it. French filmmaker Marie-Hélène Rebois' documentary, In the Steps of Trisha Brown, about Lisa Kraus and Carolyn Lucas setting Glacial Decoy on POB dancers, came to the Dance on Camera Festival last month.
And of course, the Trisha Brown Dance Company continues to perform her work across the globe.
Another part of her legacy: Not only was Brown a great artist who pushed the boundaries of contemporary dance, but she was also a fine human being, an example of compassionate leadership. She was always respectful, nurturing and generous. She fulfilled the promise of a new, feminist way of being a director.
Steve Paxton and Trisha, Bennington College c. 1980, photo by Tyler Resch
Diane Madden, who started as a dancer with the company in 1980 and is now co-artistic associate, described her way of working: "She created a clear space that allows people to have lots of room. You felt trusted by her, which allowed you to take more risks and give more. She would give us very clear guidelines, whether working around the perimeter of the space, or keeping close proximity to the floor, working in slow motion, but wouldn't over-define or over-direct…She would challenge you to go beyond your comfort zone because she was always challenging herself. We all were challenged."
Brown left us with works that are edifying, stirring, beguiling, and sometimes hauntingly beautiful, all without dipping into narrative. In some ways she continued the philosophy of Merce Cunningham and John Cage, namely, their faith in choreography to be about itself, not about something else. And she brought the dancing body further into a contemporary mode—relaxed, articulate, ready for anything—while also engaging in relationship with others.
For those of us who danced with her, the tsunami of her creativity swept through us with great vigor, and the tea ceremony of her specificity focused our own explorations. Although it's sad to say goodbye, I am heartened knowing how fully her contributions are recognized, and how many people have been touched by her brilliance.
Note: Some of the language in this essay was taken from a tribute I wrote on the occasion of Dance/USA honoring of Trisha Brown in 2015; it was first posted in From the Green Room.
When Thomas Forster isn't in the gym doing his own workout, he's often coaching his colleagues.
Two years ago, the American Ballet Theatre soloist got a personal training certification from the National Academy of Sports Medicine. Now he trains fellow ABT members and teaches the ABT Studio Company a strength and conditioning class alongside fellow ABT soloist Roman Zhurbin.
He shared six of his top tips for getting into top shape.
No matter how much anti–Valentine's Day sentiment I'm feeling in a given year, there's something about dancer couples that still makes me swoon. Here's a collection of wonderful posts from this year, but be warned: Continued scrolling is likely to give you a severe case of the warm fuzzies.
When Rennie Harris first heard that Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater had tapped him to create a new hour-long work, and to become the company's first artist in residence, he laughed.
"I'm a street dance choreographer. I do street dance on street dancers," he says. "I've never set an hour-long piece on any other company outside my own, and definitely not on a modern dance company."
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When Chase Brock signed on to choreograph a new musical at a theater in New Jersey in 2015, he couldn't have predicted that four years later, he would be receiving fan art featuring his Chihuahua because of it. Nor could he have he imagined that the show—Be More Chill, based on the young adult novel by Ned Vizzini—would be heading to Broadway with one of the most enthusiastic teenage fan bases the Great White Way has ever seen.
It's no longer just Les Ballets Trockadero de Monte Carlo and the few pointe-clad male character parts, like in Cinderella or Alexei Ratmansky's The Bright Stream. Some male dancers are starting to experiment with pointe shoes to strengthen their feet or expand their artistic possibilities. Michelle Dorrance even challenged the men in her cast at American Ballet Theatre to perform on pointe last season (although only Tyler Maloney ended up actually doing it onstage).
The one problem? Pointe shoes have traditionally only been designed for women. Until now.
Camille Sturdivant, a former member of the Blue Valley Northwest High School dance team is suing the school district, alleging that she was barred from performing in a dance because her skin was "too dark."
The suit states that during Sturdivant's senior year, the Dazzlers' choreographer, Kevin Murakami, would not allow her to perform in a contemporary dance because he said her skin would clash with the costumes, and that she would steal focus from the other dancers because of her skin color.
You wander through the grocery aisles, sizing up the newest trends on the shelves. Although you're eager to try a new energy bar, you question a strange ingredient and decide to leave it behind. Your afternoons are consumed with research as you sort through endless stories about "detox" miracles.
What started as an innocent attempt to eat healthier has turned into a time-consuming ritual with little room for error, and an underlying fear surrounding your food choices.
Aside from a solid warm-up, most dancers have something else they just have to do before performing. Whether it's putting on the right eyelashes before the left or giving a certain handshake before a second-act entrance, our backstage habits give us the comfort of familiar, consistent choices in an art form with so many variables.
Some call them superstitions, others call them rituals. Either way, these tiny moments become part of our work—and sometimes even end up being the most treasured part of performing.
Raise your hand if you've ever gotten sucked down an informational rabbit hole on the internet. (Come on, we know it's not just us.) Now, allow us to direct you to this new project from Google Arts & Culture. To celebrate Black History Month, they've put together a newly curated collection of images, videos and stories that spotlights black history and culture in America specifically through the lens of dance—and it's pretty much our new favorite way to pass the time online.
If you're anything like us, your Instagram feed is chock-full of gorgeous dance photos and videos. But you know what makes us fall in love with an artist even more? When they take a break from curating perfect posts and get real about their missteps. These performers' ability to move past mistakes, and even laugh them off, is one reason why they're so successful.
Every time you fall out of a pirouette, just remember: The stars—and literally every. single. dancer.—have been there, too. (Even Misty Copeland.)
Dancers today have an overwhelming array of options at their fingertips: New fitness tools, recovery trends, workouts and more that claim to improve performance, speed up recovery or enhance training.
But which of these actually meet the unique demands of dancers? In our new series, "We Tried It," we're going to find out, sampling new health and fitness trends to see if they're dancer-approved.
First up: Brrrn, the cold temperature fitness studio (the first and only of its kind, they claim) located in Manhattan.
Lately I've been having recurring dreams: I'm in an audition and I can't remember the combination. Or, I'm rehearsing for an upcoming show, onstage, and I don't know what comes next. Each time I wake up relieved that it was only a dream.
However, this is the reality of how I often felt throughout my dance career. Once I knew the steps, there was no undoing it. It was the process of getting there that haunts me to this day.
Though Polunin has long had a reputation for behaving inappropriately, in the last month his posts have been somewhat unhinged. In one, Polunin, who is Ukrainian, shows off his new tattoo of Vladimir Putin:
Throughout your dancing life, you've heard the same corrections over and over. The reason for the repetition? Dancers tend to make the same errors, sometimes with catastrophic results. Dance Magazine spoke to eight teachers about what they perceive to be the worst habits—the ones that will destroy a dancer's technique—and what can be done to reverse the damage.
To get a 180-degree first position, dancers will sometimes let their arches roll forward. But turnout is not about forcing your feet open; it's about opening up in the hips. “Turning out is an activity, not a position," says Irene Dowd, who teaches anatomy at the Juilliard School. “If we stop sustaining that movement, our feet will passively roll in." Rolling in places stress on the tendons of the feet and leads to injury because the rest of the body compensates for the imbalance when your knees can't line up over your toes.
Dowd warns against using only the arch to combat rolling in. “Dancers will try to lift up their arches and pull up on the inside of the ankle," she says. This can result in the inflammation of the tendons in the ankle and lead to tendinitis, a painful overuse injury that's common in dancers. What she feels are “Victorian furniture feet—feet that aren't fully in contact with the ground" should be solid in three areas: the heel, the ball of the big toe, and the ball of the little toe. Imagine how your weight is being transferred from above, through the body and down the legs, rather than gripping the foot and lifting from the arch.
Misaligning the Spine
Distorting the back, either by crunching the lumbar vertebrae and splaying the rib cage open or by hunching the shoulders forward and tucking the pelvis under, affects every other part of the body. Since the proper placement of the torso is the foundation of any movement, a dancer with a misaligned spine will develop other deadly technique sins. Problems can ripple all the way down to the extremities and upward to the neck and head. The core will be loose, unable to provide essential support. A pelvis that either tips back or tucks under will limit the range of motion in the hips.
Christine Spizzo's students at the North Carolina School of the Arts constantly work on their placement. “The one directive I give in class more than any other," she says, “is tailbone down, navel muscles lifted." She emphasizes that the tailbone lengthens downward without tucking under, and the navel muscles lift upward, not inward. This opposition allows the external rotator muscles to be actively engaged at the top of the thigh. Spizzo uses the expression the Four Ts—“no tucking, tipping, tilting, or twisting of the pelvis"—as a reminder for students.
Clenching the Toes
Clenching, curling, knuckling—no matter what it's called, this condition hampers a dancer's ability to articulate the feet. Clenched toes also make the feet an unstable platform to stand on, creating problems for the rest of the body. The muscles and tendons of the foot, knee, and ankle must work together to perform a relevé or jump, says Edward Ellison, director of Ellison Ballet Professional Training Program in New York. Clenched toes will place unwanted stress on the joints of the legs, leading to imbalance and overuse injuries. On pointe, knuckling over can damage the bones and tendons of the feet.
Master ballet teacher Sara Neece of Ballet Arts in New York says that when the first joint of the toe presses down into the floor too hard, the second joint of the toe jams into the metatarsal. For Neece, the key to remedying clenched toes lies in “bringing sensation to those unused tendons" beneath the second joint, and teaching the toes how to work in a careful and deliberate manner. While seated, a dancer should prick the back of each clenched toe with a fingernail about 20 times. Sitting on a chair with the foot on the ground, she should drag it back toward the body, slowly raising it to demi-pointe with a forced arch. Teachers must pay attention to the response of the feet to this localized work, since overstressing the tendons can damage them. Another way to teach the toes to stretch out is to weave a strip of cloth over the second toe and alternate below and above successive toes, leaving it there during barrework and nondance activities.
Giving In to Extreme Hyperextension
Hyperextended legs, in which the straightened knee naturally curves behind the thigh and calf muscles, are prized in the world of extreme ballet bodies. Christine Spizzo sings the praise of a moderately hyperextended leg line, as the leg fits snugly in fifth position, and the arabesque looks gorgeous, with that slight curve offsetting the arch of the foot. However, dancers with extreme hyperextension must take special care. “The hyperextended dancer tends to have weak external rotator muscles," she says, so the legs are more prone to collapse in on themselves when landing from a jump, letting the body weight fall on the knees. This can result in damage to the joints that maintain the alignment of the leg, including twisted knees and sprained ankles. Even if the dancer understands how to avoid giving in to her hyperextension, she has to learn how to express herself fully while restraining her legs.
But Spizzo points to dancers such as international star Sylvie Guillem, who has used her extreme hyperextension to her advantage. The dancer must think of lengthening rather than straightening or locking the knee, even if it feels slightly bent. She must develop a heightened awareness of the turnout muscles from the top of the thigh down to the calf. “The muscles must be activated to not allow the dancer to give in to the hyperextension," says Spizzo. She uses the image of the barbershop pole to encourage dancers to apply that feeling of an infinite spiral to their legs. Somatic practices such as Pilates can help to strengthen those stabilizing turnout muscles. Spizzo insists that dancers stand with the heels together in first position and never be allowed to press back into that knee joint. To do this, “the quadriceps must remain soft. As soon as you grip, it pulls that kneecap back dangerously."
Using Unnecessary Tension
“Tension," says Daniel Lewis, dean of dance at the New World School of the Arts, “pulls you off balance. It tightens the muscles and causes injury." Stiff muscles are injury-prone muscles, which make free and confident movement impossible.
Unwanted stiffness can also limit your versatility as a dancer. “Modern dance is concerned with trying to go into space off-center and off-balance," says Mary Cochran, chair of the dance department at Barnard College. “If you spend too much time holding your body stiffly, it's hard to make the transition from working in-balance to working off-balance."
Rhythmic breathing helps dissipate tension. Think of the lungs as another limb and pace the breath with the dynamics of the music. Sustain a sense of motion in the body, even when you are still, advises Cochran. Doing so will help reverse the muscle memory of using tension as a form of stability.
Pinching Your Shoulder Blades
Although used as a strategy to open the chest in front, pinching your shoulder blades together immobilizes the back. The serratus anterior on the sides of your rib cage is so overstretched that it can't work. Edward Ellison says that pinched shoulder blades impede the freedom of the arms and the support of the upper spine. He feels that they “cause your weight to fall behind your axis, and strain the trapezius and rhomboid muscles of the back."
Irene Dowd suggests thinking about widening the tips of the shoulders to the side, to allow plenty of room for the chest. “It helps to think about the chest—full of your lungs, your heart, all those organs—as a sphere," says Dowd. “We need to have enough room for all those precious organs to breathe." To relax shoulder blades, sometimes she will tell students to focus on the movement of the hands. “Is the hand really a lively part of my being?" Dowd has her students ask. “The shoulder blade should support that hand."
Getting Stuck in a Rut
While physical habits impede progress, the deadliest sin is losing the drive to improve technique at all. Franco De Vita, principal of American Ballet Theatre's Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis School, says good technique begins with a dancer's approach to class. Being present and focused enables the dancer to learn combinations quickly—and correctly. “Not listening and changing the exercise is unacceptable," says De Vita.
Michael Vernon, chair of the ballet department at Indiana University, feels the worst thing a dancer can do “is to get fixed into doing something a certain way, being safe. I love young dancers who understand that you have to dance for tomorrow, and not yesterday." Keeping an open mind means more than just trying a different preparation for a pirouette. “Being open to new styles of dance and new ways of moving the body is vital to keeping the art relevant."
I write this letter knowing full well and first-hand the financial challenges of running an arts organization. I also write this letter on behalf of dancers auditioning for your companies. Lastly, I write this letter as a member of society at large and as someone who cares deeply about the culture we are leading and the climate we create in the performing arts.
In the February 1969 issue of Dance Magazine, we talked to Bob Fosse about taking Sweet Charity from stage to screen. Though he already had a string of Tony Awards for Best Choreography and had spent plenty of time on film sets as a choreographer, this adaptation marked his first time sitting in the director's chair for a motion picture.
"When I started out, I wanted to be a Fred Astaire," he told us, "and after that a Jerome Robbins. But then I realized there was always somebody a dancer or choreographer had to take orders from. So I decided I wanted to become a director, namely a George Abbott. But as I got older I dropped the hero-worship thing. I didn't want to emulate anyone. Just wanted to do the things I was capable of doing—and have some fun doing them. By this time I'm glad I didn't turn out to be an Astaire, a Robbins or an Abbott." He would go on to become an Academy Award–winning director, indelibly changing musical theater in the process.
If you've ever wondered where models get their moves, look just off-camera for Pat Boguslawski. As a movement director and creative consultant based in London, he works with top brands, fashion designers, magazines and film directors to elicit bold, photogenic movement for ad campaigns, runway shows and film. Boguslawski has collaborated with plenty of big-name talent—FKA Twigs, Hailey Baldwin, Victoria Beckham, Kim Kardashian—and draws on his diverse experience in hip hop, contemporary dance, acting and modeling.
Dance Magazine recently asked him about how he got this career, and what it takes to thrive in it.
Let's say that today you're having a terrible time following your class's choreography and are feeling ashamed—you're always stumbling a few beats behind. Do you:
1. Admit it's your fault because you didn't study the steps last night? Tonight you'll nail them down.
2. Feel worthless and alone? You slump your shoulders, avoid eye contact with your teacher and fellow dancers, and wish to disappear.
Shame is a natural emotion that everyone occasionally feels. If you answered #1, it may be appropriate—you earned it by not studying—and positive if it motivates you to do better in the future.
My hypermobility used to cause me a lot of trouble, but I've gained confidence and strength after reading about it in one of your columns. I now have a Pilates instructor who's retraining my body and helping me dance in a consistent way. Thank you!
—No Longer Anxious, Philadelphia, PA
George Balanchine famously wrote, that ballet "is a woman." Four of his most celebrated women—Allegra Kent, Gloria Govrin, Kay Mazzo and Merrill Ashley—appeared onstage at Jacques d'Amboise's National Dance Institute Monday evening to celebrate his legacy. The sold-out program, called "Balanchine's Ballerinas," included performances of excerpts from ballets closely associated with these women and a discussion, moderated by former New York City Ballet principal Wendy Whelan. Here are some highlights of the conversation, filled with affection, warmth and fond memories.