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Six Ways to Get Better at Getting Rejected
Allison Beler has auditioned for the Radio City Rockettes more than a dozen times. In 2014, she made it all the way through the final round. "I was waiting on a phone call for a job," she says. The call didn't come.
Rejection is inevitable in dance. But it still hurts. Beler, 31, says she's toughened as she's gotten older, but she still calls her mom and cries as soon as she steps onto the street after being cut.
Your ability to recover from rejection may strengthen with experience, but according to Joel Minden, a clinical psychologist and former ballroom dancer who works with dancers in Chico, California, it's also a skill that can be cultivated.
Avoid "The Three P's"
Pay attention to how you explain a rejection to yourself, Minden says. Watch out for what psychologists call "the three P's": Does it feel personal, permanent or pervasive? "Personal would be, 'I just don't have what it takes to dance at a high level,' " he says, "rather than externalizing the reason and saying, 'The people who rejected me are looking for something else.' " Thinking the situation is permanent means telling yourself you'll never be good enough. And pervasive means thinking it's not an isolated setback but an issue that extends to other areas of dance.
Pay attention to your reasoning, especially if after you land a role you're likely to say you got lucky, rather than acknowledging you're a good dancer who worked hard. The idea that every failure is personal and every success is thanks to external factors isn't just unproductive, it's highly unlikely to be true.
Look at the Evidence
An LA Dance Project audition. Photo by Kyle Froman
If you're telling yourself you didn't make the cut because you're a lousy dancer, look at the data, Minden suggests. What evidence is there that you're a bad dancer? What about evidence that you're a good dancer? Consider the feedback you get from teachers or directors, and whether you're working to constantly improve.
If you're devastated after being rejected—or if your fear of rejection threatens to derail an audition before it begins—remind yourself there's a world outside of this experience. Amanda Lenox, a counselor who works with dancers in New York, suggests asking yourself questions like: What's for dinner? What are you going to wear tomorrow? "Take your mind outside of what's happening in the present," Lenox says. The idea isn't to hide from your feelings—it's to get a little distance until you're ready to address them.
Find Positivity and Productivity
A cattle call for the national tour of A Chorus Line. Photo by Rachel Papo
After a tough audition, Beler sometimes takes herself out to lunch as a treat. Other times, she heads straight to class. "I want to remind myself I belong in this world," she says. "After a two-hour ballet class, I feel like a million bucks. I know I worked on my technique and bettering myself today."
Doing something to make you feel happy or accomplished—or both—can help shake off the funk of rejection. That could mean using your frustration to fuel your dancing, but if you're not ready to take class right away, don't force it. "If you beat yourself up, it's going to prolong the process of healing," Lenox says. "Choose an activity that will make you feel good."
Fake It Till You Feel it
Auditioning for Brian Brooks. Photo by Jim Lafferty
In dark moments, you may feel like you don't want to dance anymore. Even if that's true, you don't want to make a heat-of-the-moment decision. Remember that emotions are temporary, and that you don't have to let them dictate your behavior. Instead, think about your values, Minden says. If you still love dancing and you know that this latest rejection is just a setback along the way to something you want, you can choose to keep dancing, even if you are upset: "I don't feel like doing it right now, but I'm going to keep at it." Let your thoughts and emotions be authentic—if you're bummed out, let yourself feel bummed out. But you can behave however you want, and that may change how you feel.
Love the Process
The Rockettes. Photo by Rachel Papo
Remind yourself that dance is a journey. Work on a process-oriented outlook: "I'll just keep at it and try to make little improvements every day." Minden says, "Get feedback. Figure out what's going to help you take that next step."
Beler says she won't stop auditioning until she has to. "It's that fire within me that says I'm going to keep striving for this dream until it's physically impossible or until I get a piece of feedback that tells me, 'It's time. You need to be done with this,' " she says. "Dancing like a Rockette and seeing myself looking like a Rockette keep me going back."
When Rachel Hamrick was in the corps of Universal Ballet in Seoul, her determination to strengthen her flexibility turned into a side hobby that would eventually land her a new career. "I was in La Bayadere for the first time, and I was the first girl out for that arabesque sequence in The Kingdom of the Shades," she says. "I had the flexibility, but I was wobbly because I wasn't stretching in the right way. That's when I first started playing around with the idea of the Flexistretcher. It was tied together then, so it was definitely more makeshift," she says with a laugh, "But I trained with it to help me get the correct alignment so that I would have the strength to sustain the whole act."
Now, Hamrick is running her own business, complete with an ever-growing product line and her FLX training method—all because of her initial need to make it through 38 arabesques.
For the new Broadway season, Ellenore Scott has scored two associate choreographer gigs: For Head Over Heels, which starts previews June 23, Scott is working with choreographer Spencer Liff on an original musical mashing up The Go-Go's punk-rock hits with a narrative based on Sir Philip Sidney's 1590 book, Arcadia. Four days after that show opens, she'll head into rehearsals for this fall's King Kong, collaborating with director/choreographer Drew McOnie and a 20-foot gorilla.
Scott gave us the inside scoop about Head Over Heels, the craziness of her freelance hustle and the most surprising element of working on Broadway.
Dance in movies is a trend as old as time. Movies like The Red Shoes and Singin' in the Rain paved the way for Black Swan and La La Land; dancing stars like Gene Kelly and Ginger Rogers led the way for Channing Tatum and Julianne Hough.
Lucky for us, some of Hollywood's most incredible dance scenes have been compiled into this amazing montage, featuring close to 300 films in only seven minutes. So grab the popcorn, cozy on up, and watch the moves that made the movies.
Broadway musicals have been on my mind for more than half a century. I discovered them in grade school, not in a theater but electronically. On the radio, every weeknight an otherwise boring local station would play a cast album in its entirety; on television, periodically Ed Sullivan's Sunday night variety show would feature an excerpt from the latest hit—numbers from Bye Bye Birdie, West Side Story, Camelot, Flower Drum Song.
But theater lives in the here and now, and I was in middle school when I attended my first Broadway musical, Gypsy—based, of all things, on the early life of the famed burlesque queen Gypsy Rose Lee. I didn't know who Jerome Robbins was, but I recognized genius when I saw it—kids morphing into adults as a dance number progresses, hilarious stripping routines, a pas de deux giving concrete shape to the romantic yearnings of an ugly duckling. It proved the birth of a lifelong habit, indulged for the last 18 years in the pages of this magazine. But all long runs eventually end, and it's time to say good-bye to the "On Broadway" column. It's not the last of our Broadway coverage—there's too much great work being created and performed, and you can count on hearing from me in print and online.
If you want to know how scary the AIDS epidemic was in the 1980s, come see Ishmael Houston-Jones' piece THEM from 1986. This piece reveals the subterranean fears that crept into gay relationships at the time. Houston-Jones is one of downtown's great improvisers, and his six dancers also improvise in response to his suggestions. With Chris Cochrane's edgy guitar riffs and Dennis Cooper's ominous text, there's an unpredictable, near-creepy but epic quality to THEM.
What is the right flooring system for us?
So many choices, companies, claims, endorsements, and recommendations to consider. The more you look, the more confusing it gets. Here is what you need to do. Here is what you need to know to get the flooring system suited to your needs.
This time last year, Catherine Conley was already living a ballet dancer's dream. After an exchange between her home ballet school in Chicago and the Cuban National Ballet School in Havana, she'd been invited to train in Cuba full-time. It was the opportunity of a lifetime, and one that was nearly unheard of for an American dancer. Now, though, Conley has even more exciting news: She's a full-fledged member of the National Ballet of Cuba's corps de ballet.
"In the school there were other foreigners, but in the company I'm the only foreigner—not just the only American, but the only non-Cuban," Conley says. But she doesn't feel like an outsider, or like a dancer embarking on a historic journey. "Nobody makes me feel different. They treat me as one of them," she says. Conley has become fluent in Spanish, and Cuba has come to feel like home. "The other day I was watching a movie that was dubbed in Spanish, and I understand absolutely everything now," she says.
Chantel Aguirre may call sunny Los Angeles home, but the Shaping Sound company member and NUVO faculty member spends more time in the air, on a tour bus or in a convention ballroom than she does in the City of Angels.
Aguirre, who is married to fellow Shaping Sound member Michael Keefe, generally only spends one week per month at home. "When I'm not working, I'm exploring," Aguirre says. "Michael and I are total travel junkies."
Akram Khan and Florence Welch (of Florence + The Machine) is not a pairing we ever would have dreamt up. But now that the music video for "Big God" has dropped, with choreography attributed to Khan and Welch, it seems that we just weren't dreaming big enough.
In the video, Welch leads a group of women standing in an eerily reflective pool of water. They seem untouchable, until they begin shedding their colorful veils, movements morphing to become animalistic and aggressive as the song progresses.
Savannah Lowery is about as well acquainted with the inner workings of a hospital as she is with the intricate footwork of Dewdrop.
As a child, the former New York City Ballet soloist would roam the hospital where her parents worked, pushing buttons and probably getting into too much trouble, she says. While other girls her age were clad in tutus playing ballerina, she was playing doctor.
"It just felt like home. I think it made me not scared of medicine, not scared of a hospital," she says. "I thought it was fascinating what they did."
It can be hard to focus when Alice Sheppard dances.
Her recent sold-out run of DESCENT at New York Live Arts, for instance, offered a constellation of stimulation. Onstage was a large architectural ramp with an assortment of peaks and planes. There was an intricate lighting and projection design. There was a musical score that unfolded like an epic poem. There was a live score too: the sounds of Sheppard and fellow dancer Laurel Lawson's bodies interacting with the surfaces beneath them.
And there were wheelchairs. But if you think the wheelchairs are the center of this work, you're missing something vital about what Sheppard creates.
A Jellicle Ball is coming to the big screen, with the unlikeliest of dancemakers on tap to choreograph.
We'll give you some hints: His choreography can aptly be described as "animalistic," though Jellicle cats have never come to mind specifically when watching his hyper-physical work. He's worked on movies before—even one about Beasts. And though contemporary ballet is his genre of choice, his choreography is certainly theatrical enough to lend itself to a musical.