What This DM Editor Learned From Choreographing on ABT Dancers
"Is everyone okay?" was my most used sentence during my time with American Ballet Theatre. There I was, leading world-class ABT dancers through my own choreographic process. I knew that it was unlike anything they'd ever experienced, but I think half of the time I was asking that question, it was really directed to myself.ABT Incubator is a two-week choreographic program created by principal dancer David Hallberg. Supported by The Howard Hughes Corporation, this process-oriented lab gave me and four other choreographers the opportunity to generate ideas for the work we have been inspired to create.
Auditioning for a panel of pros
I don't think I've ever been at an audition where the panel seemed genuinely happy to be there. Photo by JJ Geiger, Courtesy ABT Incubator.
At the audition, David came into the room where I waited anxiously with the seven other selected choreographers and gave us the warmest welcome. One by one we performed a short excerpt of our work and spoke to the panel, including Jessica Lang, Lar Lubovich, Judy Hussie-Taylor and Kevin McKenzie, about our inspiration and goals for the workshop. I don't think I've ever seen a panel so genuinely happy to be there—a testament, I quickly learned, to ABT's welcoming company culture.
I couldn't have asked for a more relaxed, inviting and open environment. Even though I was invited to the second round based on video footage sent in, I wasn't sure how they would react in person to my movement. But I made a promise to myself to be authentic to the work I intended to create—which wasn't exactly ballet.
I applied to ABT Incubator because I had a choreographic itch I hadn't been able to scratch. A friend introduced me to Sarah Ruhl's Eurydice, and it resonated with me on a level so profound I knew the only way I would be able to grapple with it fully would be to explore it through movement. I was specifically interested in the theme of re-education presented in the play: how people are constantly remembering and reconstructing important moments in their lives.
Entering the unknown
It was important for me to let my dancers know their thoughts and opinions were valued in the creative process. Photo by JJ Geiger, Courtesy ABT Incubator.
I've spent the past five years alone in the dance studios of New York City choreographing on myself. In that time I've had a lot of internal conversations, exploring my own body and the ways that feel the most natural for me to move. So when given a group of ABT dancers—Erica Lall, Kiely Groenewegen, Luis Ribagorda and Virginia Lensi—to choreograph on, it felt like a bit of a culture shock.
My process is collaborative, a culmination of task-based exercises I've collected from working with other dancemakers that I feel most authentically generate movement. I wrote quotes from Eurydice on note cards and asked the dancers to interpret them; some chose to develop abstract phrases while other took a more literal approach. Later on, I asked them to write a letter to someone they love and someone they can't love (something Orpheus does for Eurydice throughout Ruhl's play), then asked them to interpret one through movement. At first, these tasks seemed foreign to them. But throughout the entire process we kept a dialogue going and went into each rehearsal with an open mind. They all expressed early on in the workshop that they weren't used to working collaboratively. But they were excited about the opportunity to bring their own ideas to rehearsal.
Every day, I brought Eurydice, The Sentient Archive (a wonderful collection of essays on bodies, performance and memory) and Florence Welch's Useless Magic (just for fun) and encouraged the dancers to refer back to those books if they ever felt removed from the work we were doing. I was pleasantly surprised when they asked to take the books home.
Pushing through self-doubt
I went into this process with the intention of bringing out the humanity in dance. Photo of Erica Lall by JJ Geiger, Courtesy ABT Incubator.
Gabrielle Lamb (the other freelance choreographer invited to the program) and I were at a bit of a disadvantage from the beginning because we had to spend half of the two week workshop getting to know our dancers and their movement styles. The other three choreographers were ABT dancers (Duncan Lyle, Sung Woo Han and James Whiteside) creating on people they knew well.
Halfway through the process, I started doubting myself. Was I using the dancers to their fullest potential? Were they being challenged? After a panicked call to fellow dancer/choreographer Rena Butler, I was reminded of what David had said from the very beginning: The purpose of this program is to explore and question. The exchange is between myself and my dancers, and how we can learn from one another. The viewers at the end of this would only be there to witness that exchange.
Finding a groove
Photo of Kiely Groenewegen in rehearsal by JJ Geiger, Courtesy ABT Incubator.
After I let go of that doubt, things seemed to really click for us in rehearsal, and I started to feel like it truly was a collaboration of ideas. The dancers were excited more and more each day, and eager to reconstruct the movement in different ways based on the task at hand. When I finally gave them choreography, they approached it with humanity, which was my goal from the beginning.
I was also being wildly inspired by the resources that David and the ABT Incubator team provided. I took class with the company each morning and attended events that they arranged for us, like a rehearsal of Sasha Waltz & Guests at BAM, a performance from Lucinda Childs and a tour of Judson Dance Theater: The Work Is Never Done at MoMA.
Reaching a vision
David Hallberg and Kelsey Grills at the ABT Incubator showing. Photo by JJ Geiger, Courtesy ABT Incubator.
At the end of the workshop we had a showing where each choreographer presented their work to an intimate audience that included donors, ABT staff and noted choreographers such as Alexei Ratmansky and Okwui Okpokwasili. Though it felt like the other choreographers' work was presented with a sense of completion, I went into this process with no intention of creating a fully-realized piece.
After each piece David invited the choreographer onto the floor to speak about their experience. He opened our conversation by asking, "How vulnerable do you feel right now?" To which I replied, "Well, this is a very accomplished group of people I'm looking at."
The biggest takeaway for me from this entire experience was my dancers. They invested themselves fearlessly in the whole process—as a choreographer, what more could you ask for? You want to be able to ask the artists you are working with to push themselves and go beyond what they think they can give, but that can only happen when it's a safe and open environment. Ultimately, that synergy is the only way I can be completely open as well.
The connections dancers make in college are no joke. For recent alum Gabrielle Hamilton, working with guest choreographer John Heginbotham at Point Park University put her on the fast track to Broadway—not in an ensemble role, but as the lead dancer in one of this season's hottest tickets: Daniel Fish's arresting reboot of Oklahoma!
We caught up with Hamilton about starring in the show's dream ballet and her delightfully bizarre pre-show ritual.
The way we create and consume dance is changing every day. Now more than ever, the field demands that dancers not only be able to perform at the highest level, but also collaborate with choreographers to bring their artistic visions to life. Dancers who miss out on choreographic training may very well find themselves at a disadvantage as they try to launch their careers.
Last Friday, through an appeal to an independent arbitrator, the American Guild of Musical Artists successfully reinstated NYCB principals Amar Ramasar and Zachary Catazaro, previously fired for allegedly circulating sexually explicit texts containing nude photos.
AGMA opposed Ramasar and Catazaro's terminations in order to prevent the setting of a dangerous precedent that would allow dancers to be fired under less understandable consequences. But we cannot allow future cases to dictate the way we handle this situation—particularly a union committed to "doing everything in [its] power to ensure you have a respectful environment in which to work."
But according to the H+ | The Hip-Hop Dance Conservatory, one in every three dancers in New York City lives under the poverty line, and may lack the resources to purchase the ingredients they need to make nutritious meals.
Not to mention the fact that dancers are busy, and often running around from class to rehearsal to performance to side hustle, grabbing whatever they can get to eat on-the-go.
It's not often that a promising choreographer gets to stage work in a world-class theater, on a skillfully-curated program with professional dancers, and with the possibility of winning a substantial cash prize. But at the McCallum Theatre's Palm Desert Choreography Festival, that's been the status quo for over twenty years.
Since Shea New, the festival's artistic director, founded the festival in 1998, she's worked tirelessly with McCallum's director of education and festival producer, Kajsa Thuresson-Frary, and stage manager and festival production manager Joanna Fookes to build a festival that nurtures choreographers, highlights high quality work, powerfully engages the local community and cultivates an audience base for dance in the Coachella Valley. The trio is backed by a strong team of professionals at McCallum and the brilliant volunteers from the local and national level who serve as adjudicators.
Get Dance Magazine in your inbox
I have a commitment, a romance, a love affair with dance, with the feeling that happens when the music and the steps so perfectly align and I can't help but get chills. That feeling when my partner and I are dancing as one, when everyone onstage feels the same heartbeat, when it's just me alone in my bedroom.
You can see them in "Fosse/Verdon" episode one. Michelle Williams, playing Gwen Verdon, wears them with a cool, retro, forest-green jumpsuit. Tucked beneath a mop top of tousled Gwen Verdon locks, Williams sports a pair of discreet and tasteful onyx drop-earrings—the dancer's favorites. Verdon wore them all her adult life, according to her daughter Nicole Fosse, a co-executive producer of the FX series that puts a spotlight on a great woman of American dance.
"I have very little memory of my mother wearing other earrings. They were her Gwen Verdon earrings," says Fosse, speaking by phone from her home in Vermont. "She's wearing them in 99 percent of the pictures of her performing."
Four years of lectures, exams and classes can feel like a lifetime for college dancers who have their sights set on performing. So when a professional opportunity comes knocking, it can be tempting to step away from your academics. But there are a few things to consider before putting your education on hold.
We've all been there: You see the craziest/most beautiful/oddest/wildest clip of a dance on Facebook and you simply have to see more.
But do you actually get yourself to the theater and sit through a 90-minute performance? The consensus, at this point, typically seems to be: No.
There is no clear correlation between a company's social media campaigns and how many seats they fill in the theater. That doesn't mean social media isn't, of course, vital. It simply means that "social media campaigns operating without other marketing campaigns don't cut it," says Rob Bailis, associate director of Cal Performances at UC Berkeley. "But campaigns without social media are far worse off."
Since the project was first announced toward the end of 2017, we've been extremely curious about Yuli. The film, based on Carlos Acosta's memoir No Way Home, promised as much dancing as biography, with Acosta appearing as himself and dance sequences featuring his eponymous Cuba-based company Acosta Danza. Add in filmmaking power couple Icíar Bollaín (director) and Paul Laverty (screenwriter), and you have a recipe for a dance film unlike anything else we've seen recently.
One of the country's top arbitrators has decided to reinstate Amar Ramasar and Zachary Catazaro to New York City Ballet. The former principals were fired last fall for "inappropriate communications," namely graphic text messages.
The dancers' union, American Guild of Musical Artists, fought the termination, arguing that the firings were unjust since they related entirely to non-work activity. After a careful review of the facts, an independent arbitrator determined that while the company was justified in disciplining the two men, suspension was the appropriate action and termination took it too far.
A woman passes three men in the street. The men pursue her. They thrust their pelvises at her. They continue to pursue her after she slaps one's hand and walks away. They surround her. She glances around at them in alarm. One snatches her purse (to review the Freudian significance of purses, click here) and saunters off with it, mocking her. She tries to take the purse back, and the three men toss it over her head among each other. They make her dance with them. Each time she indicates "No," the men try harder to force her submission to their advances.
This is all within the first 10 minutes of Jerome Robbins's Fancy Free, a 1944 ballet about three sailors frolicking on shore leave during World War II, beloved by many and still regularly performed (especially during the last year, since 2018 was the centennial celebration of Robbins's birth). Critic Edwin Denby, after the premiere with Ballet Theatre, called it "a remarkable comedy piece" and "a direct, manly piece."
When you're bouncing between hotel rooms without access to a kitchen, eating a pescatarian diet can be challenging. Stephanie Mincone, who most recently traveled the globe with Taylor Swift's Reputation Stadium Tour, told Dance Magazine how she does it—while fueling herself with enough energy to perform for thousands of Taylor fans.
The entrancing power of Instagram can't be denied. I've lost hours of my life scrolling the platform looking at other people documenting theirs. What starts as a "quick" fill-the-moment check-in can easily lead to a good 10-15 minute session, especially if I enter the nebulous realm of "suggested videos."
My algorithm usually shows me professional ballet dancers in performances, rehearsals, class, backstage and on tour, which I quite enjoy. But there are the other dance feeds that I find myself simultaneously intrigued and horrified by: the hyper-elastic, hyper-extended, gumby-footed girls always at the barre doing developpés to six o'clock. There are the multiple turners, the avid stretchers and we can't forget the endless balancers.
This parade of tricksters always makes me wonder, What else can they do? Can they actually dance?
The pleasure of watching prodigies perform technical feats on Instagram can be tinged with a sense of trepidation. Impressive tricks, you think, but do they have what it takes for an actual career?
Just look at 18-year-old Maria Khoreva, who has more followers than most seasoned principals; in videos, her lines and attention to detail suggested a precocious talent, and led to a Nike ambassador contract before she even graduated from the Vaganova Ballet Academy. Still, when she joined the Mariinsky Ballet last summer, there was no guarantee any of it would translate to stage prowess.
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.
Choosing music for your first-ever choreography commission can feel daunting enough. But when you're asked to create a ballet using the vast discography of the Rolling Stones—and you happen to be dating Stones frontman Mick Jagger—the stakes are even higher.
So it's understandable that as of Monday, American Ballet Theatre corps de ballet dancer Melanie Hamrick, whose Port Rouge will have its U.S. premiere tonight at the Youth America Grand Prix gala, was still torn about which songs to include.
What is an acceptable request from a choreographer in terms of nudity? On the first day of shooting All That Jazz in the 1970s, Bob Fosse asked us men to remove everything but our jock straps and the women to remove their tops. His rationale was to shock us in order to build character, and it felt disloyal to refuse. Would this behavior be considered okay today?
As much as audiences might flock to Swan Lake or The Nutcracker, ballet can't only rely on old war horses if it wants to remain relevant. But building new full-lengths from scratch isn't exactly cheap.
So where can companies find the money?
Today—April 16, 2019—marks what would have been Merce Cunningham's 100th birthday. As dancers from Los Angeles to New York City to London gear up for Night of 100 Solos (the marathon performance event being livestreamed today), and as companies and presenters worldwide continue to celebrate the Cunningham Centennial through their programming, we searched through the Dance Magazine Archives to unearth our favorite images of the groundbreaking dancemaker.
A bright disposition with a dab of astringent charm is how I remember Brock Hayhoe, a National Ballet School of Canada schoolmate. Because we were a couple years apart, we barely brushed shoulders, except at the odd Toronto dance party where we could dance all night with mutual friends letting our inhibitions subside through the music. Dancing always allows a deeper look.
But, as my late great ballet teacher Pyotr Pestov told me when I interviewed him for Dance Magazine in 2009, "You never know what a flower is going to look like until it opens up."
One night. Three cities. Seventy-five dancers. And three unique sets of 100 solos, all choreographed by Merce Cunningham.
This incredible evening of dance will honor Cunningham's 100th birthday on April 16. The Merce Cunningham Trust has teamed up with The Barbican in London, the Brooklyn Academy of Music in New York City and the Center for the Art of Performance in Los Angeles for a tri-city celebration.
The best part? You don't have to be in those cities to watch—Night of 100 Solos is being live-streamed in its entirety for free.