Why I Choreograph: Andrea Miller
I didn't know what I was getting into when, at the ripe age of 11, I naively resolved to be the next Doris Humphrey. Even today I can't truly grasp where choreography will take me. It probably all began with dancing, loving music, feeling ownership of a little something in a world owned and ruled by adults.
Early on in my dance training, I was aware that I was observing the structure and components of dances as much as the task of dancing them. Around 15, I started making my own dances, performing them at my high school assemblies—much to my initial enthusiasm and ultimate mortification. When I began studying at Juilliard I abandoned the idea of making dance, influenced by the highly competitive environment and an unspoken cultural prejudice that suggested “those who can't dance, choreograph." So I decided just to focus on my training. But even as I was taking our daily classes, I found myself pretending that I choreographed the phrases to enhance my experience of executing them. Contrary to my own prejudice, choreography was moving me to find more satisfaction from dancing, and better technical understanding of it.
After graduating I moved to Israel to dance with Batsheva Ensemble. Training as a professional dancer and being immersed in the creative process, I realized that not only did I want to choreograph, I wanted to build a dance company. I found myself observing the elements of the art, as well as the structure that supported it. The transition into founding Gallim Dance felt very natural, yet there's been so much to learn, so many failures to surpass and milestones to celebrate.
Some of my brightest rewards have come from confronting entrepreneurial challenges to support my commitment to artistic creation. These challenges include the professionalization of the company, the provision of salaries and contracts for the dancers, balancing my work with my family life, and developing a language which allows me to explore the infinite possibilities of curiosity.
Being a choreographer keeps changing me, moving me, pushing me to expand myself—whether this means being an entrepreneur, a leader, a collaborator or a working mom. It's taught me about risk, patience, love, exhaustion, perseverance, joy…there's no end.
Many nights I have dance parties at home with my partner and two children. It's not unusual that I'll throw in “Hey, why don't you guys hold hands and try that in a circle?" It's a force. It can't be helped.
Jennifer Kahn knew the theater industry could do better. As a professional stage manager for 17 years she worked on regional, off-Broadway and Broadway shows. Nearly each time a show closed, something unsettling happened: "I would watch them throw away our shows. All of the beautiful artwork by my friends in the paint shop would go in the trash." The elaborate backdrops? Gone.
But she had an idea: What if the material used in the backdrops and legs could be upcycled into something new? And what if theater lovers could literally keep a piece of a beloved show?
"The show must go on" may be a platitude we use to get through everything from costume malfunctions to stormy moods. But when it came to overcoming a literal hurricane, Houston Ballet was buoyed by this mantra to go from devastated to dancing in a matter of weeks—with the help of Harlequin Floors, Houston Ballet's longstanding partner who sprang into action to build new floors in record time.
For decades the name Alicia Alonso has been virtually synonymous with Ballet Nacional de Cuba, the company she co-founded in Havana in 1948. Alonso died on October 17, just shy of what would have been her 99th birthday. In recent years, she had stepped back from day-to-day decision-making in the company. As if preparing for the future, in January, the company's leading ballerina, 42-year-old Viengsay Valdés, was named deputy director, a job that seems to encompass most of the responsibilities of a traditional director. Now, presumably, she will step into her new role as director of the company. Her debut as curator of the repertory comes in November, when the troupe will perform three mixed bills selected by her at the Gran Teatro de la Habana Alicia Alonso. The following has been translated from a conversation conducted in Spanish, Valdés' native tongue.
New York City Ballet principal Sara Mearns wasn't sure she was strong enough. A ballerina who has danced many demanding full-length and contemporary roles, she was about to push herself physically more than she thought was possible.
"I said, 'I can't. My body won't,' " she says. "He told me, 'Yes, it will.' "
She wasn't working with a ballet coach, but with personal trainer Joel Prouty, who was asking her to do squats with a heavier barbell than she'd ever used.