The inaugural choreographer in residence at Chicago's Harris Theater for Music and Dance has a lot of stretching to do. In the first year of his three-year tenure, Brian Brooks has worked with Hubbard Street Dance Chicago's main company and pre-professional dancers; advanced students from the Chicago Academy for the Arts; with street percussionists The Chicago Bucket Boys; his own New York City–based ensemble; and teachers from Chicago Public Schools. Next up is Miami City Ballet, which premieres the Harris Theater–commissioned One Line Drawn February 9–11, March 2–4 and March 17–18.
You've gone back and forth to Miami a few times now. How much time have you had on this project?
We did most of the work over the summer, plus two other short periods: one in January and one the week of the premiere. We're mostly finished, but I'm still editing, clarifying, shaping.
Brooks leads rehearsal at Miami City Ballet. Photo by Alexander Iziliaev, Courtesy MCB
Built to last, Mark Morris Dance Group’s The Hard Nut returns December 10–18 for its 25th anniversary engagement, in the Howard Gilman Opera House at the Brooklyn Academy of Music. As gleefully irreverent as it is visually poetic and musically sensitive, Morris’ interpretation of The Nutcracker features, among its many memorable moments, gender-queer snowflakes and a Christmas party with no food, only alcohol.
Mark Morris and Amber Star in a performance of The Hard Nut. PC Stephanie Berger, Courtesy MMDG.
The Hard Nut premiered toward the end of your time in Brussels, as director of dance at Théâtre Royal de la Monnaie. Did you always intend to keep it going somehow, to bring it back with you to the United States?
First of all, it’s lasted for 25 years because it’s very, very good. Which isn’t to say that there aren’t dances which have lasted forever, which are terrible. But no. When I left Brussels I didn’t know I would receive all of the physical properties for The Hard Nut, but we got an incredible deal to keep all those sets and costumes.
The Hard Nut conjures many distinctly American pop-cultural images, like soft-serve ice cream cones, Barbie dolls and G.I. Joes. Did those visual ideas come primarily from Charles Burns, the cartoonist, or from you, or…
It came from everyone. I sent everything—the music, the wonderful E.T.A. Hoffmann book upon which it’s based—to the whole team: costume designer Marty Pakledinaz, set designer Adrianne Lobel, lighting designer James F. Ingalls, and Charles. All of us together created this world. I can’t really say which ideas belonged to whom.
You’ve said the desire to choreograph The Nutcracker goes back to when you were a teenager. Is there a production which for you was particularly inspiring?
Balanchine’s is very good, even though the first act is kind of boring. People will kill me for saying that. My favorite is probably The Nutcracker Suite—it’s not the full Nutcracker—from Disney’s Fantasia. It’s such incredible choreography, the animation is unbelievable, I love the musicality and just the imagination of it all. It’s miraculously good.
Many of the dramatic roles are closely tied to specific artists, perhaps most of all Kraig Patterson as the Housekeeper. Has it been difficult to recast any roles, or to watch certain artists retire them?
I’m not overly sentimental in that way. I don’t “see the ghosts of Christmas past” when I watch the piece. There’s a difference between history and nostalgia.
Children sing in the chorus for The Hard Nut, but you don’t use them onstage. Did you get any pushback on that decision?
No. I do what I want, and I did not want to work with children.
You’ve performed so often in The Hard Nut yourself. What’s that like?
Because I work with such extraordinary dancers, and because the music is so wonderful and so alive, it’s always very surprising and fun. I’m all about living audiences paying attention and watching living performers. That’s what I love. It’s also exhausting, of course, especially since I’m so old now. [Laughs]
It takes an extraordinary amount of cooperation between a lot of people, and a lot of alignment of politics and forces, for a production like The Hard Nut to become a reality. Did you—
Right. It couldn’t be done today.
—did you have that sense in Brussels, of a limited window of opportunity?
I always think that. I did a big production this fall that opened at Cal Performances in Berkeley, Layla and Majnun, and that requires an enormous amount of trust in me, and responsibility on my part. Once something’s opened and it’s been successful, everybody wants it, but the danger, the gamble—and the interesting part—is supporting something new. Speaking of which: I have to go now, and I’m stopping my timer to let you know that we spoke for 39 minutes and 16 seconds, not just 10 minutes. Put that in.
Imagine that each body part that comes in contact with the floor is a foot, says teacher Ami Shulman. Jubal Battisti, Courtesy Shulman
Four tips to help you master floorwork.
As humans, we take pride in walking upright, on two legs. But as dancers, we need to feel equally comfortable off our feet, in that slippery space between standing up and lying down. Today, dancers of all kinds are expected to be fluent in the language of floorwork, however disorienting, intimidating or painful it may be. Often, success lies in figuring out what not to do; the dancer’s instinct to try harder or apply more effort may only hinder you. When you’re on the floor, less is more.
Forget About What It Looks Like
“In so many techniques, we think of dance as being shape-based, as opposed to being about moving your body through space,” says Sarah Chien, founder of Floor Friends, a network of dancers and teachers who gather in New York City to take workshops and classes. “In floorwork, you’re not going to find the answers by copying the shapes. What you need to be asking yourself is, ‘How can my body be accomplishing the task at hand?’ and not, ‘How can I make my body look like the teacher’s?’ ” If you are working in a studio with mirrors, try to ignore them.
Work on Flexibility in the In-Between Places
“It’s not what we think of in terms of balletic flexibility, or flexibility as high extension,” says David Dorfman, artistic director of David Dorfman Dance and chair of the dance department at Connecticut College. To roll smoothly and comfortably between positions on the floor requires many small, specific joints to be flexible, not just in extending away from the body’s core, but in folding toward it. “Folding is essential to floorwork,” echoes Ami Shulman, a contemporary dance instructor who has taught throughout Europe and North America. “You have to know where the joints are, and how they work. It’s important to learn how to make yourself small without holding tension. To sit on your knees and shins, for example, the calf muscles and quadriceps need to relax and spread.”
To gain flexibility in the joints, find a stretching position, like a lunge, and make circular movements around the joint being stretched, starting as small as possible, then gradually spiraling outward. This will help make more pathways along the floor available to you.
David Dorfman Dance. Adam Campos, Courtesy Dorfman
Use Imagery to Inform the Quality of Your Dancing
We spend so much time standing and dancing upright that those habits of coordination are hard to break. Try using your imagination to get through the challenge of making peace with the floor. “Sometimes I’ll use the image of a beach,” says Dorfman, “to encourage the idea that you’re able to fall, as if onto sand. Or the image of falling backward into a pool of water. You have to grow able to transfer those sorts of feelings into the studio environment.” Another trick is to temporarily think of whichever part of your body is in contact with the floor—even if it’s actually your hand, shoulder or hip—as a foot. “This has the power to rewire your intuition,” says Shulman. “I like to think of the floor as a partner,” adds Dorfman.
Learn Other Forms of Movement
Chien and Dorfman both suggest experimenting with dancerly martial arts, such as aikido, capoeira and qigong. If you’re attracted to the daring, athletic movement seen in parkour videos, for example, or in performances by South Korea’s Bereishit Dance Company, look for classes in the Flying Low and Passing Through techniques of Venezuelan dancer David Zambrano, which are becoming popular at festivals like ImPulsTanz. Shulman also recommends researching Bartenieff Fundamentals and the Feldenkrais Method, which can help you understand your preferred movement patterns. From there, you can expand your possibilities and find more choices. “Habits aren’t necessarily bad,” she clarifies, “but they are preferences, which you can override if they’re holding you back.” Break dancing, circus arts and gymnastics could also help you unlock gravity. “It sounds corny to say that floorwork is ‘a way of life,’ ” says Chien, “but it is definitely a paradigm for relating to the world, to other people and to the space around you.”
Ignore the mirrors and explore how it feels, says Sarah Chien. Tess Deselle, Courtesy Chien
Don’t Muscle Your Way Through It
There are no shortcuts in floorwork. Unlike most steps on your feet, not everything can be slowed down when you’re working against gravity. At the same time, pushing yourself to complete the sequence faster won’t always work, either. It takes concentration and a lot of patience to tap into the kinesthetic feedback offered by the floor, and you need to organize your body and mind to make sure you don’t skip any steps.
When practicing a floor phrase, try assigning each action a number. Say that number out loud only once you’ve completed the action, and then move on to the next movement in the phrase. This will help you avoid combining or overlapping pieces that should happen on their own. David Dorfman suggests thinking of the energy and execution of floorwork as a chain reaction, or like dominoes falling one by one.
“Sequential movement patterning will distribute your weight properly,” says Ami Shulman. “Taking shortcuts is not efficient—you’re engaging unnecessary muscular effort. That will make your movement on the floor extremely labored, and you will not be able to use the floor to rest.”
Tip: Wear long sleeves and pants so you can slide and support weight with other body parts, like your shoulders, elbows, shins and back.
Dance studios and world-renowned theaters are sometimes characterized as “ivory towers,” where serious artists do serious work, far away from the hoi polloi. Even within the field, certain dance figures and pieces can suddenly fall out of fashion. Nevertheless, we found 11 professionals willing to defend their guilty pleasures and pop-cultural obsessions—on the record.
The Book of Mormon. Photo by Joan Marcus, Courtesy The Book of Mormon.
“Turn It Off,” from The Book of Mormon, is one of the more brilliant tap numbers I’ve ever seen—so fun, so well constructed, so filled with irony and wit, and there’s a costume change built in!
If you’ve studied concert dance, there’s often the belief that to work in popular entertainment is to negate that education. Earlier in my career, I might’ve taken being called “accessible” as a criticism, but now I find it’s flattering to think that I might be able to help people become dance fans. I recently went to Mickey’s Not-So-Scary Halloween Party at Walt Disney World, and there was a 20-minute revue based on the Bette Midler movie Hocus Pocus. It was cheesy, certainly, but honestly? It was really well done! The dancing was spectacular.
I also have a real weakness for watching Justin Bieber dance. He’s such a natural. It looks effortless. —Larry Keigwin, choreographer
Richard Simmons inspires me.
—Kelly Anderson, artistic director, Kelly Anderson Dance Theatre
Photo by Adam Taylor, Courtesy ABC.
I’m a “Dancing with the Stars” superfan. I even follow my favorites on Instagram.
—Jessica Deahr, artistic director, Chicago Dance Crash
I love a good syllabus meeting. All 20-plus faculty members sit in a circle, on chairs, and it only takes two minutes for the shoes to come off, and I’m demonstrating the “perfect” sur-le-cou-de-pied, three times with my foot, and several more times with my hands. We’re all big on port de bras, épaulement and pas de cheval. And do not get me started on proper placement of the thumb. What I love is that we are all “right,” which can prompt some pointed discussions—which continue for weeks.
—Peter Boal, artistic director, Pacific Northwest Ballet, and director, Pacific Northwest Ballet School
Spice Girls. Photo by Eric Mutrie.
It’s hard to have “guilty pleasures” when I’m very proud of mine: the boy bands and girl groups of the late ’90s and early 2000s. *NSYNC and the Spice Girls were major sources of dance inspiration. I taped their performances, and taught myself their choreography. Their impact on me as a dancer, even today, is undeniable, and I’ve found myself less and less embarrassed by my teenage fascination with pop icons. When dance is prevalent in pop culture, that’s worth celebrating, so I say: “Thank you, *NSYNC, and thank you, Spice Girls.”
—James Whiteside, principal dancer, American Ballet Theatre
Houston performing "Saving All My Love for You." Photo courtesy HBO.
Years ago, I told my students at Northwestern University that it was foolish, or passé, or not “serious art,” if they choreographed to music with lyrics. Then I became so entranced with pop from the ’80s and ’90s, those incredibly catchy songs, that I used it for my own work, which of course made me a hypocrite. I consider my piece Sharks Before Drowning, which included music by Whitney Houston, a kind of breakthrough for me, because I let myself love what I loved.
I’ve also fantasized about being a judge on “So You Think You Can Dance.”
—Molly Shanahan, artistic director, Molly Shanahan/Mad Shak
I’m not the least bit embarrassed to say I think Ludwig Minkus is a highly effective dance composer. Is his music great? No. Is it profound? Not at all. But a lot of choreographers will tell you that “great” music is not always the best music to choreograph to. Minkus is great second-rate music. It’s catchy, often washed with local color—I especially love the fandango from Don Quixote—and it practically begs to be danced to.
—Marina Harss, dance critic
I’ve cried watching videos of flash mobs. Music starts, one person starts doing something, all alone, and the other people are thinking, What is that weirdo doing? Then another person joins, and then a third, and a fourth, and everyone gradually becomes aware of what’s happening. It’s often a combination of older and younger people, people of color, business types and people in sweatshirts, and look: They’re all dancing together! It expands into an almost utopian moment, a fleeting glimpse at something shared and serendipitous which, inevitably, ends just as soon as it began.
London's "Dance the Dream" flash mob. Photo by Jenna Lee, courtesy Dance the Dream.
Flash mobs were of course quickly co-opted, and used to spread the most commercial choreographic dreck. But even the worst flash mobs carry within them some connection to that idealism. When I’m in a horrible place like Penn Station, I often find myself wishing—hoping—Please, let a flash mob start happening right now.
—Sydney Skybetter, choreographer and arts management consultant
My kids first tried to get me to watch “Dance Moms“ three years ago. Of course I refused at first. Then I lost a bet, agreed to watch an episode and, right away, I was hooked. Abby Lee Miller says things to parents and students that dance teachers can only dream of saying.
—Winifred Haun, artistic director, Winifred Haun & Dancers
