Here, we salute the troublemakers, the rule breakers, the artists who turn their backs on convention to push the field in new directions. Every dance artist, in their own way, is a renegade—it takes a certain kind of rebellious spirit to choose this career. But some also have the guts to disrupt the status quo of what is considered “right” and “good” even within the dance world. Dance Magazine chose 10 who particularly intrigue and inspire us. Sometimes they make us uncomfortable. Often, they make us think. Always, we love them for it.
Photo by Jayme Thornton, wallpaper by VOUTSA.
Rashaun Mitchell and Silas Riener don't just break the rules. They break them in a new way each time.
Riener's solo for PLATFORM 2015: Dancers, Buildings and People in the Streets. Photo by Ian Douglas, courtesy Mitchell/Riener.
The first rule of being a renegade is that you don’t admit to being a renegade. Like being a rock star or a superhero, it’s a title bestowed upon you by others, admiringly, while you just do what you do. So Rashaun Mitchell and Silas Riener pass the test when presented with the proposition that they are dance renegades. “I have no idea what that means,” says Riener. “I think it means that we’re not to be trusted.” Next to him, Mitchell concurs: “It means we’re treacherous.”
The two spoke from a residency in upstate New York where, in collaboration with video artist Charles Atlas, they’re embarking on a new challenge: a 3-D dance film. It’s yet another unexpected project from the perpetually curious artists who have captivated the New York dance community with their transition from accomplished dancers in one of the most revered companies of the past century to acclaimed dancemakers in their own right.
Both were members of the Merce Cunningham Dance Company’s last generation of dancers—Mitchell joined in 2004, Riener in 2007, and both drew attention for their astute interpretations of classic roles. They had already started creating work together before the company shuttered at the end of 2011, two years after Cunningham’s death. Their first collaboration, Nox, was based on the writer Anne Carson’s elegy to her brother. The project, with text, projected drawings and non-dance artists, signaled impressive artistic ambition—and a talent for channeling it effectively. “We discovered that we really complement each other physically as well as mentally and artistically,” says Mitchell.
When the Cunningham company closed, an understandable impulse would have been to capitalize on that association. “It could be very easy as former Cunningham dancers to coast on that legacy and create Cunningham-Lite work,” says Claudia La Rocco, a critic and writer who has collaborated with them. Instead, they decided to channel the physical and intellectual rigor of Cunningham but reshape it in their own image.
Melissa Toogood and Riener in Light Years. Photo by Paula Lobo, courtesy Mitchell/Riener.
One might expect renegades to break with the past in flamboyant fashion, but Mitchell and Riener refuse to play that role. Their history with Cunningham is a source of pride as well as something useful to push against. “We have a multifaceted relationship with it,” says Riener, who still teaches Cunningham technique and repertoire. Mitchell agrees. “We recognize that people are always going to contextualize us as ex-Cunningham dancers and in some ways we like to have fun with that,” he says. That may be as simple as donning a Cunningham-esque unitard, or it may be more qualitative—drawing on the precision that gives Cunningham’s work its crispness but using it to blur lines and explore ambiguity.
In the past five years, the two have collaborated on 11 works that are perhaps most notable for having very little in common. That might be the result of letting each space—whether theater, gallery or outdoor setting—shape the mood of a work. It also comes from being unafraid to walk into the creative process willing to embrace whatever comes. “They don’t go in knowing what the finished product will be,” says collaborator Melissa Toogood. As a result, each work has a distinct individuality. Interface, for example, mines the emotions of facial expression, while Way In is an intellectual investigation of objectification. “What I love about how they work is they don’t make either/or distinctions between rigorous physical movement and conceptual ideas,” says La Rocco. The result can ricochet between Jackson Pollock–like spurts of energy and Mark Rothko–like landscapes of contemplation.
The pair in Taste, a site-specific installation in Miami. Photo by Lilly Echeverria, courtesy Mitchell/Riener.
In their collaborations, some choreography is credited to Mitchell, some to Riener, and some is shared. Part of divvying up tasks has to do with where they are in their individual journeys. Mitchell, 36, grew up in Georgia and began formal dance training at 15 before earning a BFA in dance at Sarah Lawrence and embarking on a professional career. Riener, 31, was born and raised in Washington, DC, and played soccer until discovering dance at Princeton, where he studied comparative literature. “I think I just had more time to get the dance out of my body,” says Mitchell of his current focus on dance-making. After the Cunningham company closed, Riener sought other performance opportunities with choreographers like Tere O’Connor, Wally Cardona, Kota Yamazaki, Rebecca Lazier and Joanna Kotze. “I wanted to be creatively involved in other people’s dances,” he says.
Regardless of who’s officially heading a project, dialogue flows in all directions, and, inside the studio, there’s a healthy tension of ideas and a casual relationship with any sense of ownership. “One makes something and the other will take liberties to change it the next day, and they’re okay with that,” notes Toogood. But they aren’t afraid to push one another. “They’re questioning each other in a way that’s really generous,” says La Rocco. “You see the physical conversation between them.”
Mitchell in r e v e a l. Photo by Soe Lin Post, courtesy Mitchell/Riener.
That generosity is helpful when rehearsal is over and the duo, who are romantically involved, retire to their shared apartment in Red Hook, Brooklyn. Yet separating work from leisure can be a challenge. “I don’t think we have very good boundaries,” admits Riener. Muses Mitchell: “Choreographing is a lifestyle,” he says. “The things we do in our downtime also influence the things we do when we’re working.” And the downtime is a rare commodity, given the balance of the opportunities coming their way and the pressures of making a living as freelance dance artists in New York. (Mitchell is an assistant professor at New York University; Riener dances, teaches occasionally and sets Cunningham work on companies.)
In facing that reality, it’s fair to say that all artists are renegades because they trade comfort for creation. Mitchell and Riener epitomize that drive while subverting expectations and balking at the rules of tradition and collaboration. Maybe Riener was right—maybe they shouldn’t be trusted. And that’s a good thing. - Brian Schaefer
Ellsworth in Clytigation. Photo by Satchel Spencer, courtesy Ellsworth.
Online Oddball: Michelle Ellsworth
Snapping her fingers like a ticking bomb, Michelle Ellsworth enters the stage in Preparation for the Obsolescence of the Y Chromosome, and says, “I don’t mean to make any trouble.” Oh, yes you do, Ms. Ellsworth! The end of men is just the kind of subject that Ellsworth likes to tackle full-on. The choreographer/provocateur is known for her relentless musings on science, culture and technology, as well as her quirky website installations. She explores the relationship between hamburgers and humans in The Burger Foundation, while in The Motivational Video Archive she dispenses such advice as “Don’t Collaborate” and “Dump the Girlfriend.” Her web app Choreography Generator, which accompanies a larger live piece, mixes and matches sound and dance in a box that can be manipulated by the user, addressing the fact that we have all seen the same thing too much. She’s funny, heady and delights in finding odd ways into serious material. —Nancy Wozny
Photo by Matthew Karas, courtesy Weinert.
Guerilla Techie: Adam H. Weinert
Deeply invested in what makes American dance American, Adam H. Weinert isn’t above guerrilla action to get a point across. In The Reaccession of Ted Shawn, Weinert asked viewers to download the Dance-Tech Augmented Reality app on their smartphones or tablets, which played videos of Weinert performing Shawn solos when the device was pointed at particular signs and art work in the Museum of Modern Art. It was a covert way to address the fact that MoMA gave away Ted Shawn’s archives after being gifted them in the 1940s. The result activated the past with the here-and-now of the latest technology. The final stage of the project, Without Consent, included contributions from the public. Weinert has the utmost respect for tradition, but is unafraid to experiment with novel ways to share his work. —NW
Webb rehearsing Sarasota Ballet. Photo by Frank Atura, courtesy Sarasota Ballet.
Throwback Success: Iain Webb
Trendiness has no place in Iain Webb’s repertoire. “When I first got here, I looked at all the companies with a similar budget, and they were all doing more or less the same ballets,” says the Sarasota Ballet artistic director. “I thought, If I were a presenter, what would make me choose a company?” Webb found his niche by focusing Sarasota’s rep around historic one-acts—particularly those by choreographers he’d worked with at The Royal Ballet, like Frederick Ashton—and investing in the necessary coaching to give them authenticity and personality. Not that Webb ignores new creations: In his eight years as artistic director, he’s introduced 123 ballets to Sarasota Ballet’s rep, with 35 world premieres. “I have to be careful we don’t become a museum company,” says Webb. “But I also want to show these great ballets that aren’t performed anywhere else today.” —Jennifer Stahl
Polunin in David LaChapelle's video to Hozier's "Take Me To Church." Photo courtesy DANCER.
Redeemed Bad Boy: Sergei Polunin
When Sergei Polunin abandoned his career at The Royal Ballet in 2012, he complained, “The artist in me was dying.” Luckily, he’s brought that artist back to life. After two years with the Stanislavsky Ballet, he’s gone freelance, partnering stars like Natalia Osipova and delving into film projects, including a documentary about his career, called DANCER. What’s more, he’s launching an organization called Project Polunin in association with Sadler’s Wells to bring together dance, music, film and contemporary art collaborators to create new classical ballets for the stage and film. He also hopes to help fund talented students, and provide them with managers who can advocate for their interests. As Polunin has told journalists recently, he’s tired of being seen as a rebel; he wants to become a role model. —JS
Reker sometimes literally tears up the dance floor. Photo by Ian Douglas, courtesy Reker.
Rock-star Rebel: Steven Reker
Steven Reker doesn’t just make moves to music; often, his moves make the music. The former David Byrne guitarist and dancer has a vision for merging dance, music and theater. In a typical hybrid performance—where a set is never just a set, a dancer never just a dancer—Reker’s musician/dancers might tear up the floor under them to explore the sounds the panels make when waved in the air; shred through modern-dance–style floorwork with an electric guitar hanging from their backs; and accomplish partnered lifts with cords and drum kits as much in the mix as the other dancers. With a 2015 American Dance Institute Solange MacArthur Award for New Choreography at his back, he’s recently formed a new Brooklyn-based band called Open House. The contemporary world can look forward to more movement that sounds as good as it looks. —Candice Thompson
Princes from The Firebird, a Ballez. Photo by Ian Douglas, courtesy American Realness.
Queer Classicists: Ballez
Some might argue that ballet clings to outdated ideals of gender and sexuality. Not so at Ballez, which rewrites the narratives of story ballets to tackle those very topics using a cast of lesbian, queer and transgendered female-assigned and identified dancers. The idea grew out of conversations—and a pun—artistic director Katy Pyle had with friends in New York’s downtown dance scene. She had always had a deep love for ballet, but grew disenchanted while in high school at University of North Carolina School of the Arts. “I felt restrictions put upon me about the size and shape of my body,” says Pyle. “I loved men’s class, those jumps and turns, and I was like, Why is this not a part of our training? It doesn’t make any sense to me.” So she began work-shopping and assembling material for a ballet. A year later, she started offering ballet classes that prioritized queer bodies, and in 2013, she staged a performance of The Firebird, a Ballez. Featuring a Lesbian Princess and a “Tranimal” dancing classical ballet vocabulary, the show was received warmly: “This Firebird blazes with heart,” wrote Gia Kourlas in The New York Times. A new production, Sleeping Beauty & the Beast, premieres in spring 2016. “There’s something we all love deeply about ballet, and still connect to,” says Pyle. “I feel like the ballet world is missing out by not having us in it. Ballez is a gateway for these incredible performers to be seen.” —Lea Marshall
Thinking Out of the Black Box: AUNTS, SALTA & Others
Today’s audience members are given a chance to do more than just witness: They’re asked to participate. By using nontraditional spaces, a new generation of choreographers has begun offering not just performances but one-of-a-kind experiences.
SALTA experiments with how different spaces can inform the same choreography. Photo by Chani Bockwinkel, courtesy SALTA.
AUNTS, a roving party of dance performances in New York City, uses lofts, theaters and repurposed buildings to contain a series of dance experiments in which audience members can wander as they please. An AUNTS show can feel like the Wild West of dance: There are few rules, if any. Their aesthetic would have trouble squeezing into even the most avant-garde theater—and that’s the whole point.
On the opposite coast, Oakland-based curatorial collective SALTA hosts performances, parties, happenings and group encounters everywhere from warehouses to cafes. The same performance could be held in two different locations and take on entirely different meanings depending on where it is and who’s present.
Does the use of a nontraditional space make contemporary dance inherently more urgent or relevant? Not necessarily. But, as a co-curator of a similar presenting series called The Bunker, I’ve seen the possibilities for the way it can challenge the static relationship between performer and viewer. At our warehouse performances, the audience can crowd in close, hang back, take photos or talk to each other. They can even walk away. But they don’t. And they certainly don’t doze off in their seats.
Harrell mashes up pedestrian movement with exhibitionism. Photo by Karl Rabe, courtesy Harrell.
Postmodern Provocateur: Trajal Harrell
Trajal Harrell’s eight-part Twenty Looks or Paris is Burning at The Judson Church series has challenged the conceptual temper of the contemporary dance scene. His premise? “What would have happened in 1963 if someone from the voguing-ball scene in Harlem had come downtown to perform alongside the early postmoderns at Judson Church?” By combining Judson minimalism with the flamboyant presentation of street voguing, Harrell has pushed Yvonne Rainer’s No Manifesto forward to create a unique creative impulse that brings spectacle back to the postmodern stage, once again working to seduce downtown audiences. The avant-garde work has catapulted to prominent venues everywhere from Vienna to Rio de Janeiro to Montpellier, a success that has inspired both younger and more established artists to try to capitalize on the series format. Harrell’s latest work, The Ghost of Montpellier Meets the Samurai, explores an imaginary meeting between the founder of Butoh, a leader of French nouvelle danse and the namesake of La MaMa Experimental Theatre Club. —Christopher Atamian
Forti in Sleepwalkers, 2010. Photo by Jason Underhill, courtesy Forti and The Box, Los Angeles.
An Original Iconoclast: Simone Forti
Choreographer and improvisation artist Simone Forti has been immersed in the dance world for over 50 years. Her inquisitive spirit has placed her at the forefront of many evolutions in dance, from the early roots of improvisation with Anna Halprin to Robert Dunn’s famed composition workshops which birthed the Judson Dance Theater. Throughout her career Forti has pioneered the idea of thinking with the body, eschewing technique and instead relating words and pedestrian movement. Now 80 years old, this mother renegade offers her perspective on the movers and shakers she’s witnessed and her continuous creative hunger.
What is the role of renegades in our field?
Dance deals with physicality, which has a special place in this age of cyberspace. It provides a language for exploring questions, such as an evolving sense of personal identity.
Forti's 1961 Slant Board. Photo courtesy Forti.
Tell me about some renegades you’ve admired over the years.
Rather than teaching certain movements, Anna Halprin had us explore basic elements such as momentum and space, had us focus on sensing aspects of our bodies and observing movements in our daily world.
I also think of dancer Merce Cunningham, composer John Cage, poet Charles Olson, painter Josef Albers, to name a few, who worked in rich communication with each other, artists who looked to each other’s concerns, rather than to the concerns of the predecessors in their own fields.
But maybe there were some true renegades to start with. Marcel Duchamp, who presented a urinal as found artwork, turned basic questions upside-down by responding against the cultural moment. John Cage, who used chance as a tool for composition, was reaching for a Zen experience of pure sound. But once the new ideas, the new urgencies, have been stated, are the followers in those areas renegades?
Are you working on anything right now?
I sometimes joke that I’ve become Simone Forti’s secretary—my work has become part of our cultural heritage, and I have responsibilities towards that which don’t leave me much time to wonder about what I’d like to do. But I’ve recently done some performances with musician/composer Charlemagne Palestine. It was wonderful to again be moving fast, in circles, experiencing momentum and centrifugal forces.
For the past few months, the dance world has been holding its collective breath, waiting for New York City Ballet to announce who will take over the helm as artistic director.
Though former ballet master in chief Peter Martins retired over a year ago after accusations of sexual harassment and abuse (an internal investigation did not corroborate the accusations), the search for a new leader didn't begin until last May.
Nine months later, the new director's name could be released any day now. And we have some theories about who it might be:
Some people take this profession as just a chapter of their life. They feel like dance is a job—a fun job, but a job. Other people live their life through dance. I never considered being a ballerina a profession. It's a lifestyle.
If I don't have a performance, I feel like a tiger trapped in a cage. I have so many emotions, I feel I need to give them to somebody, to exhaust myself—I need to cry or laugh, or else it's suffocating. Other people might scream or throw bottles into the wall. We dancers scream onstage through our movement. For me, it's like sweeping off the dust in my soul.
Back in 2011, Yale University's dean of science was thinking about refreshing the program's offerings for non-majors when he happened upon a Pilobolus performance. A light bulb went off: Dance is full of physics.
That realization led to what has become an eight-year collaboration between particle physicist Sarah Demers and former New York City Ballet dancer Emily Coates, both professors at Yale who were brought together to co-teach a course called The Physics of Dance. Their partnership has involved everything from directing a short film to presenting a TedX Talk and performing a piece that Coates created, commissioned by Danspace Project. This month, they're publishing a book about what they've discovered by dialoging across two seemingly disparate disciplines.
Sebastian Abarbanell remembers being asked as an undergrad at Trinity Laban in London to perform wearing only a dance belt. "I said no," he says, "because I felt uncomfortable." Now a performer with Sidra Bell Dance New York, he's performed partially nude several times, without reservation. The difference? "It comes with more experience and maturing as a dancer," he says. "When you see a dancer living in their skin, you don't need to put anything else on them. When I said no in college, I wasn't in my skin yet."
Getting in your skin—and getting comfortable wearing only your skin onstage—requires a particular alchemy of vulnerability, agency, preparation and practice.
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Birmingham Royal Ballet announced today that international star Carlos Acosta will be taking over as director in January of 2020. Current BRB director David Bintley will be stepping down this summer, at the end of the company's 2019 season, after a 24-year tenure. "It is a tremendous honor and privilege to have been appointed to lead Birmingham Royal Ballet," Acosta said in a statement.
Since retiring from The Royal Ballet in 2015, Acosta has focused much of his attention on his native Cuba, where he's proven his directorial abilities at the helm of Acosta Danza, the contemporary company that he founded in 2016. In 2017 Acosta also opened his first Dance Academy through his foundation, which provides free training to students. We don't yet know how Acosta will balance his time between his projects in Cuba and his new role at BRB.
My personal life has taken a nosedive since I broke up with my boyfriend. He's in the same show and is now dating one of my colleagues. It's heartbreaking to see them together, and I'm determined never to date a fellow dancer again. But it's challenging to find someone outside, as I practically live in the theater. Do you have any advice?
—Loveless, New York, NY
The inimitable Carol Channing, best known for her role as the titular Hello, Dolly!, passed away today at 97.
Though she became a three-time Tony winner, Channing was born in Seattle, far from the Great White Way, in 1921. After growing up in San Francisco, she attended the famed Bennington College, studying dance and drama. She later told the university, "What Bennington allows you to do is develop the thing you're going to do anyway, over everybody's dead body." For Channing, that meant decades of fiery, comical performances, bursting with energy.
Something's coming, I don't know when
But it's soon...maybe tonight?
Those iconic lyrics have basically been our #mood ever since we first heard a remake of the West Side Story film, directed by Steven Spielberg and choreographed by Justin Peck, was in the works. THE CASTING. THE CASTING WAS COMING.
Well, last night—after an extensive search process that focused on finding the best actors within the Puerto Rican/Latinx community—the WSS team finally revealed who'll be playing Maria, Anita, Bernardo, and Chino (joining Ansel Elgort, who was cast as Tony last fall). And you guys: It is a truly epic group.
Rehearsal is in full swing, and Leta Biasucci, Pacific Northwest Ballet's newest principal dancer, finds herself in unfamiliar territory. Biasucci is always game for a challenge, but choreographer Kyle Davis wants her to lift fellow dancer Clara Ruf Maldonado. Repeatedly. While she's known for her technical prowess, lifting another dancer off the floor is a bit daunting for Biasucci, who stands all of 5' 3". She eyes Maldonado skeptically, then breaks into a grin.
"It's absolutely given me a new appreciation for the partner standing behind me!" Biasucci says with a laugh.
Looking at Biasucci, 29, with her wide smile and eager curiosity, you think you see the quintessential extrovert. In reality, she's anything but. "I was an introverted kid," Biasucci says. "That's part of the reason I fell in love with dance—I didn't have to be talkative."
It's only one of the seeming contradictions in Biasucci's life: She's a short, muscular ballerina in a company known for its fleet of tall, long-legged women; she's also most comfortable with classical ballet, while taking on a growing repertoire of contemporary work.
Sergei Polunin, whose recent homophobic and sexist Instagram posts have sparked international outrage, will not be appearing with the Paris Opéra Ballet as previously announced.
POB artistic director Aurélie Dupont sent an internal email to company staff and dancers on Sunday, explaining that she did not share Polunin's values and that the Russian-based dancer would not be guesting with the company during the upcoming run of Rudolf Nureyev's Swan Lake in February.
Before spending a summer at Los Angeles Ballet School, Lillian Glasscock had never learned a Balanchine variation. "The stylistic differences, like preparing for a pirouette with a straight back leg, were at first very challenging," says Glasscock, 17. "But it soon got easier."
Los Angeles Ballet company members were in class daily, motivating and inspiring her. Trying out a new style and expanding her repertoire gave Glasscock more strength, and a better understanding of the varied demands of ballet companies today. Months later, the Balanchine variations she learned are now personal favorites.
While the early years of training are typically spent diligently working through the syllabus of a single ballet technique, when you start to prepare for a professional career, versatility is key. There isn't just one correct version of each step. And as ballet companies continue to diversify their repertoires, directors need dancers who can move fluidly between an array of styles.
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."
What's next for the dance world? Our annual list of the dancers, choreographers and companies that are on the verge of skyrocketing has a pretty excellent track record of answering that question.
Here they are: the 25 up-and-coming artists we believe represent the future of our field.
Just before retiring in 2015, Sylvie Guillem appeared on "HARDtalk with Zeinab Badawi," the BBC's hard-hitting interview program. Badawi told Guillem,
"Clement Crisp of the Financial Times, 14 years ago, described your dancing as vulgar."
"Yeah, well, he said that. But at the same time, when they asked Margot Fonteyn what she thought about lifting the leg like this she said, 'Well, if I could have done it, I would have done it.' "
They were discussing Guillem's signature stroke—her 180-degree leg extension à la seconde. Ballet legs had often flashed about in the higher zones between 135 and 160 degrees before. But it wasn't until the virtuoso French ballerina regularly
extended her leg beside her ear with immaculate poise in the 1980s that leg extensions for ballet dancers in classical roles reached their zenith. Traditionalists like Clement Crisp were not taken with it.
When coming up with phrases of movement, choreographers all have their habits: certain patterns they return to again and again, tendencies that repeat themselves whether they mean for them to or not.
What if artificial intelligence could be used to help choreographers mix things up by suggesting thousands of other options—and ones that still fit their choreographic style, no less?
In the early 1960s, a group of dancers started questioning the existing rules of choreography. Influenced by John Cage, they created dances that were startling in their simplicity and risk-taking. Yvonne Rainer, Steve Paxton, Trisha Brown, David Gordon, Deborah Hay, Elaine Summers and Lucinda Childs were all part of this group. Most of them had studied or danced with Anna Halprin or Simone Forti. Visual artists like Robert Rauschenberg and Alex Hay were part of this cauldron of experimentation as well as composer Philip Corner.
The Museum of Modern Art has mounted an expansive exhibit called "Judson Dance Theater: The Work Is Never Done." It gathers photos, artwork, scores, objects and films that bring the period alive. If you get there before January 16, you'll see the films of Brown's early work. Her piece Walking on the Wall was so disorienting that it was almost hallucinatory. (Actually, this film and most of the Brown pieces are from the 70s.) Playing with perception was a big part of the Judson and post-Judson eras.
Balanchine and Stravinsky. Cunningham and Cage. Graham and Copland. Twentieth-century dance was dotted with memorable partnerships between musicians and choreographers that wrought magical, full-bodied, brilliant works.
Today's composer-dancemaker duos, though, have gone in a decidedly different direction. In ever-growing numbers, mainstream musicians are this century's dance collaborators. Sufjan Stevens has aligned himself with New York City Ballet's Justin Peck; Bon Iver's brought his signature indie folk to Minnesota contemporary troupe TU Dance; and even Sia's getting in on the act, working with Akram Khan on a dance theater piece premiering this summer.
What is it that's drawing pop artists to the dance floor?
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:
I've just read Emma Sandall's piece on hyperextension and the 180-degree position. It's intelligent, interesting, well-written. But there are a few mistakes and some misleading remarks. I can't resist writing the following.
1. If Guillem says Fonteyn said would have lifted her leg higher if she could, then that's what Guillem says.
But she's wrong. Keith Money's book "Margot Assoluta" (published in 2000) includes a photo of Fonteyn in rehearsal doing a seconde almost to shoulder-height: she told Money "I can get the leg that high—but it ruins the line." Fonteyn wanted level hips, something crucial to many ideas of placement but not discussed by Sandall.
The cover star of the January 1974 issue of Dance Magazine was beloved Italian ballerina Carla Fracci. She was adored by ballet fans in the U.S. for her guest appearances with American Ballet Theatre, and a bona fide celebrity in her hometown of Milan. But she nevertheless made time for her director husband and their young son, who often accompanied her on tour. "I don't like to be only ballerina," she told us. "I say: the dance—all right. I like it. I like my work, and I do the best that I can. But it is not 'all' for me...Most dancers are closed, in a way, because it takes so much to dance, the physique is under so much stress, that often they are too tired, even to read, or to go to the theaters, the museums, to hear music, to be with people. But you can't be a dancer without these things...You can't just close your eyes and go to the barre. You get lost in this obsession with the barre and toe shoes. Your life can be destroyed that way."