Ballroom dance is a broad term that encompasses a variety of dance styles that are performed in a ballroom setting. These styles include the Waltz, Tango, Foxtrot, Quickstep, and Viennese Waltz. The history of ballroom dance can be traced back to the 16th century in Europe, where it was primarily a social activity for the upper class. However, it wasn’t until the 19th century that ballroom dance began to be formalized and Standardized.
Ballroom Goes Mainstream
One of the most iconic figures in ballroom dance history is Fred Astaire. Astaire was a Hollywood actor and dancer who appeared in a number of musical films throughout the 1930s and 1940s. He is best known for his partnership with Ginger Rogers, with whom he appeared in 10 films. Astaire’s smooth, elegant style and ability to make complex dance routines look effortless helped to popularize ballroom dance in the United States and around the world.
The Ballroom TV Revolution
In the mid-20th century ballroom dance experienced a resurgence in popularity due to its inclusion in popular culture. The television show “Dancing with the Stars” which started in 2005, has helped to introduce a new generation to the world of ballroom dance and has made it more accessible to the general public. The show features celebrities paired with professional dancers, as they compete against each other in a variety of ballroom dance styles.
In recent years, ballroom dance has also experienced a resurgence in popularity in pop culture, with the success of films such as “Shall We Dance” and “Mad Hot Ballroom.” These films have helped to introduce the sport to a new audience and have made it more accessible to the general public.
Ballroom dance continues to evolve and change with the times, with new styles and variations being created all the time! Today, it is enjoyed by people of all ages and backgrounds, and is a beloved pastime for many.
For more information on the history of ballroom dance, you can check out the following resources:
Perfectionism is a common trait among ballroom dancers. It can be helpful in driving you to improve your skills and become the best dancer you can be. However, perfectionism can also be harmful if it leads to excessive self-criticism or perfectionistic standards that are impossible to meet.
There are some things you can do to help control perfectionism and keep it from becoming a problem.
First, try to be aware of when you start to feel perfectionistic tendencies creeping in. If you can catch yourself early on, you can nip them in the bud before they get out of hand. Perfectionistic tendencies include setting unreasonable goals for yourself and constantly comparing yourself with others who you perceive to be perfect.
Second, remind yourself that nobody is perfect and that mistakes are part of the learning process. Perfectionism can lead to a fear of making mistakes, which can actually hinder your progress as a dancer. Making those mistakes can lead you to be more aware of and set realistic goals for yourself.
Finally, you’re not a god. We ask ourselves why we can’t do something perfectly, and the answer is you simply aren’t (and no one around you is) perfect.
If you find that perfectionism is starting to become a problem in your life, it may be helpful to seek out professional help. A therapist can help you understand the root causes of your perfectionism and develop a plan to manage it.
Perfectionism is a common trait among ballroom dancers, but it doesn’t have to be a problem. With awareness and effort, you can control perfectionism and use it to your advantage. Perfectionism can drive you to improve your skills and become the best dancer you can be. Just remember to set realistic goals, accept that mistakes are part of the learning process, and be willing to let go of perfectionistic standards that are impossible to meet.
Ballroom dance outfits, especially for the ladies, can range from flirty and fun to graceful and elegant. Latin dance in particular highlights the dancers’ legs and hips, making it more sexy and provocative. But what kind of dresses go well with each of the 5 Latin dances?
Paso Doble
This traditional Spanish is passionate and desirous. Your outfit should speak to Spanish aesthetics, like adding red or large ornaments or extending the length of your dress. You can also add polka dots, flowers, or epaulets to your dress to mimic the aesthetic of the matador and of the flamenco dancer.
Samba
This dance is all about show and spectacle, and you’re going to want your dress to speak to that. Arguably the most important part of a samba dance is bounce. In order to emphasize the voluptuous movement of a samba routine, we recommend using boa and individual feathers as part of your outfit, especially around the hips. The feathers will synchronize their movement with your own, creating the volume and bouncy effect of the dance.
Cha-Cha
One of the more provocative dances, this dance style focuses on hip movement. It’s all about the flirtatious and fun aspect of partnered dance. To forefront the hip and leg movement, you’re going to want bright, fun fringes. It’s suitable to have a short dress for this type of dance, or even a separate top and skirt.
Rumba
Last and certainly not least, Rumba. Rumba is all about sensuality and romanticism. For this reason, your dress should be revealing, but delicately and tastefully. The fluid movement of this type of dance asks for skin-tight outfits or dresses that wrap and hang around your body (consider silk). For a really eye-catching look, we recommend adding crystals to your outfit to make it glitter in the parque light.
With these tips in mind, you’ll find the perfect dress that’s right for you and your dance style for your next routine!
Eating right can help you make the most of your ballroom dancing lesson at Fred Astaire Dance Studios as you improve your dance moves!
Ballroom dancing is a fun way to stay active and trim your waistline. Thirty minutes on the dance floor can burn at least 200 calories. That’s more than 30 minutes on the elliptical or rowing machine. Ballroom dancing is an ideal form of exercise you can do year-round from the comfort of your living room or in the fun atmosphere of one of our local studios. Fred Astaire Dance Studios helps you improve your dance moves by offering private and group lessons at our local studios, as well as Online Lessons you can live-stream at home.
Nearly 60% of adults in the United States suffer from a diet-related chronic condition, such as type 2 diabetes or cardiovascular disease. Unhealthy food choices may lead to obesity, which raises the risk for heart attack, cancer, and sleep disorders. The United States Department of Agriculture recommends adults limit eating foods high in added sugar, saturated fat, and sodium. They advise eating a diet rich in nutrient-based foods, including vegetables, fruit, and whole grains. Experts urge men to target 2,500 calories per day, and for women, 2,000.
Eat Your Vegetables
Dancing can help you get fit, but to ensure you’re ready to get groovy, it’s important to fuel up by making healthy choices. Consuming a healthy diet and making sure to eat the right amount of calories can make you a better dancer.
Stem Muscle Fatigue
Complex carbohydrates from whole grains, beans, and starchy vegetables break down into glucose, which provides your muscles with fuel to give you the energy to perform at a high level for the duration of your lesson.
Prevent Injury
Healthy proteins, like chicken, fish, and turkey, strengthen muscle tissue and decrease the chances of suffering a strain during a high-energy dance, like the salsa or swing.
Strengthen Bones
A common problem, particularly among seniors, is bone loss. Eating calcium-rich foods can help strengthen bones and increase your range of motion while dancing.
Making sure to stay properly hydrated should also be part of your healthy eating plan. Drinking water can help improve your heart health and kidney function. Staying hydrated can also boost metabolism and help lose weight.
Whether you’re learning some new moves for the first dance at your wedding or hoping to drop a few pounds before swimsuit season arrives, your first dance lesson can be a lot to handle.
Knowing what to expect during your lesson will help you stay focused and be ready to hit the dance floor. At Fred Astaire Dance Studios, our instructors will tell you about the first dance you are learning and show you how it’s done. Then it will be time for you to get your toes tapping. Don’t worry if you have trouble mastering the dance right away. With patience and practice, you’ll see amazing improvements!
Fred Astaire Dance Studios recommends taking steps to prepare for your first lesson to ensure you make the most of your time in the studio.
Wear the Right Clothes
Make comfort a top priority. Save the tight leotards and feathery costumes for another day. Dress in loose-fitting clothes that won’t hamper movement. It’s likely you will work up a sweat at your dance lesson, so donning light, breathable fabrics is your best bet.
Focus on Footwear
Wear comfortable shoes that provide adequate support. If sneakers feel too clunky, consider wearing a shoe with a low heel. Ballet heels offer flexibility and are designed to slide without slipping to reduce the chance of injury.
Gather Some Supplies
Fred Astaire Dance Studios recommends bringing a small, exercise towel and refillable water bottle to your lesson. Staying hydrated will help you keep your energy level up and improve your concentration. Some of our students also bring a small notebook to take notes on dance moves so they can practice at home.
Be On Time
Your instructors time is valuable, so please take advantage of it! Showing up on time will ensure you are able to make the most of your lesson. Plus in larger classes, arriving late can disrupt the teaching process and be a distraction for your fellow students. If you miss the pre-lesson stretch, your chances of pulling a muscle or spraining your ankle will be higher!
Have Fun!
Remember, the best way to learn to dance is to have fun. Our dance instructors don’t expect you to be experts at your first lesson and they know it will take time and practice to learn the steps. Be patient, keep smiling, and enjoy your time at Fred Astaire Dance Studios! If you get frustrated after your first lesson, don’t give up. Remind yourself that practice makes perfect!
Eight mandatory rehearsals. One nondisclosure agreement. Zero pay. These were a few of the specifications laid out in a casting call for dancers to be a part of the 2022 Super Bowl halftime show. After news got out that some dancers would be working as volunteers, and receiving no real benefits besides the exposure opportunity of a lifetime, Taja Riley was one of many who decided to speak up about how off-putting and disrespectful this offer felt, as well as how accepting jobs like this keeps dancers underpaid and underappreciated.
Just in time for the most-watched sporting event in the country, Riley successfully spearheaded a movement (on behalf of as many as 400 performers) to ensure that all dancers for the halftime show got fully compensated for their time and energy. For dancers in the community and supporters of the movement who helped spread the issue far and wide, this news felt like a game-winning touchdown—the type that calls for a celebratory dance! But the work doesn’t end there. It’s just one part of a continuous conversation.
Speaking up about the mistreatment of professional dancers is nothing new for Riley, a self-proclaimed dancer artist-athlete who, since the early quarantine days, has sparked some important conversations about the realities of the industry on social media. “We need to start educating people on the state of our community, in addition to being clearer with dance jobs about how our time, energy and influence should be valued,” says Riley, who uses she/he/they pronouns.
Along the way, Riley shared their own experiences in a way that pretty much every dancer can relate to. Now they’re building an entertainment company, TKO Quarantainment Inc., and developing a multitude of creative projects. Riley has put their own career dancing with some of the world’s top music artists to the side to “leap into the unknown” in pursuit of a better future, where dancers are valued and the dance community as a whole is elevated.
Riley recently spoke to Dance Magazine about some of the inequities that dancers have faced on set, from unreasonably low wages to questionable contracts and the absence of credit. “Yes, some of these production companies may be trying to undermine us, but I’m starting to discover that most of them just don’t know, or are following previous patterns,” they say.
The message is now en route to millions of people worldwide as Riley continues to use their voice and platform to heal, inspire and empower the dance community to see the worth of its members, so that the rest of the world can too.
What Sparked the Action:
Having worked with a long list of prominent names like Janet Jackson, SZA, Beyoncé and Jennifer Lopez, Riley has experience to pull from when addressing industry issues. Despite the great experiences that they’ve had throughout their career, it was the few bad experiences—and the normalized fear of speaking up about them—that inspired the action Riley is taking today.
Feeling the need to walk out on a dream job in 2011, due to their moral standards being tested, helped Riley to understand the deeper implications of how dancers were viewed in the industry and led them to focus on redefining those standards. “I expressed my concerns with some of the other dancers on set, and there were multiple that felt the same way,” they say. “I was in a state of shock,” but eventually Riley pulled the choreographer aside to express appreciation, and kindly let him know that they weren’t willing to compromise who they were. “In this moment, when I was asked to do choreography that I felt went against my faith, the way that I viewed the dance industry completely shifted, and it actually latched onto my love for dance,” they add.
As a second-generation entertainer, Riley had always viewed themself as a business, and that’s part of the reason they’re fighting so hard for dancers to understand the importance of honoring the craft while honoring personal boundaries.
On Dancers Viewing Themselves as a Business:
“Do you have a mission statement? When you’re working, do you have a vision or a purpose for why you’re there? As a dance professional, that’s what you stand on. That’s your foundation. Who you are can then be broken down into concepts and statements, which can help you organize your value and the definition of your product, which is your likeness.”
These are crucial factors to take into consideration so that dance artists can stand firmly on what they believe in while on the job, and easily discern what they’re willing to stand for, fall for or sacrifice when it comes to certain dance jobs.
Tuning In to “TAJTV”
Taja Riley. Photo by Lee Gumbs, Courtesy Riley. Design by The Circle & The Square
Riley plans for TKO Quarantainment’s debut television program series, “TAJTV,” to serve as a resource to help uplift the dance community. It’s a unique talk show that’ll feature a number of special segments featuring an elite cast of mainstream entertainers, and tap into topics of concern within the industry, while discussing how to build solutions. “I want to be able to show the great parts of the dance industry, as well as touch on some of the things that need more awareness.”
“We’ve already shot some of the pilot, and I’m so thankful to all of the donors to the GoFundMe! We would love to finish it so that we can pitch it for up-fronts.” You can find updates on Riley’s GoFundMe page as they inch toward the $15,000 goal to get the show off the ground and onto television screens.
The Day-to-Day of a Dance Activist:
As someone who’s working to improve the reality of dance artists, daily life is “unpredictable,” Riley says. “Some days are very empowering, productive and triumphant, and other days feel very sad and draining.”
“There’s also the physical work and outreach, like contacting media, and a long to-do list for projects in progress: The continual development, executive producing, going out to get people on board, contracting, developing, templating, creating, reading, amending and delegating to the team. Then, of course, there’s leaving space for my emotional work, which I find in my dance training, and even horse training! Awakening myself dance-wise has been crucial for grounding myself during this process. ”
Riley feels the busy schedule is worth it because they’ve focused on the bigger picture: impacting the dance community—and beyond. Inspired by the openness of Oprah Winfrey, Riley is hoping that this movement can have the same impact for dance as major media figures and publications of that level have had on other fields.
On Memes and Bringing Humor Into the Mix:
Many of the memes on Riley’s Instagram page use humor to shine a light on some seriously shady issues that dancers face. “I think that the best way to heal is to laugh and cry,” they say. “Being a part of meme culture is being able to captivate the subconscious of the alter egos inside of you in a way that feels relatable.”
“We must unify! We have so much power, and we’re so much stronger together,” Riley says. “When you read this article, go talk to someone about it. Bring it to your parents, your dance teacher, your dance peers, and have a discussion about it.”
Making Dance History:
The bottom line is that despite the popularity that dance artists have helped make possible for so many brands and music artists over the years, they are often still grossly underappreciated. Riley believes that professional dancers should be treated and paid equally to professional athletes and musicians. For a lot of folks, such drastic change just isn’t fathomable, but Riley continues to push the vision forward and unapologetically highlight the mistreatment of dancers, so that positive change can be applied within the industry little by little.
Riley is inspiring dancers to move past unethical traditions just because “that’s the way things have always been.” Questioning is the new cool. Respect is a must. Dancers are artists and athletes, and should be treated as such. And Riley reminds us of the need to continue the fight for progress: “This whole movement is just beginning.”
Fred Astaire Dance Studios urges people to cut loose on the dance floor to help reduce stress and alleviate anxiety during trying times.
Watching Russia’s invasion of Ukraine unfold on national television and social media is mobilizing Americans to take action by providing humanitarian aid and support for the people of the democratic nation. At the same time, the onslaught of grim news is contributing to rising stress levels throughout the United States. A new report from the American Psychological Association reveals global unrest, inflation, and supply chain troubles are significant sources of stress for Americans. Results from the poll are particularly troubling, given the undue stress people are still coping with due to the ongoing pandemic.
Fred Astaire Dance Studios is doing its part to help Americans de-stress. Our local studios provide a safe haven where people can briefly cast their worries aside and let their bodies move to the music. While reducing screen time, eating a healthy diet, and meditation can all help reduce stress, we recommend hitting the dance floor. Here are a few reasons dancing is the best stress reliever.
Boosts Mood. Dancing releases endorphins, which are natural painkillers and can help elevate mood and improve focus.
Fosters Creativity. Dancing provides a creative outlet for expressing your emotions in a positive atmosphere. Trying out new routines is a great way to keep your mind busy and active, another great stress relief habit.
Soothes Body. Dancing helps increase flexibility, which will help relieve the tension and stiffness caused by stress. Make sure to do your stretches first though!
Fred Astaire Helped Americans Cope During Stressful Time
Our founder, Fred Astaire, brought ballroom dancing to the masses during another stressful time in American history. During the Great Depression, watching films showcasing Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers dancing their hearts out helped many Americans weather a period in history full of hardship. Astaire took his commitment to helping the American people a step further when he co-founded Fred Astaire Dance Studios in 1947. He wanted to establish a chain of studios under his name to make sure that his techniques would be preserved and passed onto the public, and that’s a legacy we are proud to carry forward to this day!
2016: I was asked to create a duet for RAWdance (Ryan T. Smith and Wendy Rein) in San Francisco at a time when my heart was caught in a perpetual state of reeling from the constant murders of African Americans by law enforcement, most recently the murder of Walter Scott, who was shot in the back in South Carolina after being stopped for a nonfunctioning brake light. I knew I had to address the killings, but I didn’t know how. I felt incompetent, my work felt inadequate. So after a career dedicated to the intersection of choreography and social activism, I created Enough?, a piece that asks whether dance can meaningfully address social movements like Black Lives Matter.
1991: I was finishing Urban Scenes/Creole Dreams, my first commission for the Brooklyn Academy of Music, a work juxtaposing the early 1900s stories of my sharecropper Creole grandmother in the swamps of Louisiana with my own stories as a gay African American in New York City’s East Village at the apex of the AIDS pandemic. The work called out the sexism, racism and homophobia that extended from my grandmother’s era into my own. One night after rehearsal I participated in ACT UP’s (the AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power) takeover of Grand Central Terminal at rush hour in order to bring that evening’s commute to its knees and force attention to America’s anemic response to the AIDS pandemic.
And take over we did. Being part of hundreds of screaming protesters taking up space in Grand Central turned an act of desperation into an act of empowerment. AIDS received the attention we demanded. What AIDS did not receive was empathy. We were hated by the understandably livid commuters; they spat at protesters, shouted AIDS-phobic slurs, and the event was one step from erupting into violence. Our protest was necessary and I was honored to be there. But I wondered what the impact might be if the commuters could deeply feel the enormity of the grief that propelled us into this takeover?
Creating this empathy was not the purpose of our takeover. But it became the purpose of my art-making. Without losing the political urgency of my work, I now wanted to create those bridges of empathy that would better transcend the boundaries of difference and allow the disenfranchised to shout tales of their personal and political histories while also allowing viewers to see themselves in the lives of these very disenfranchised. As a politics major at Princeton, I understood that a necessary first step in oppression of any kind is to dehumanize the oppressed. At that protest, my mission consciously became to “re-humanize.” Urban Scenes remained an urgent calling out of racism, sexism and homophobia, but the piece became less about those “isms” and more about the eternality of devastating loss due to those “isms.”
David Roussève performing in Stardust. Yi-Chun Yu, Courtesy Roussève.
1991–2016: I created a body of work with this new mission at its expressive core. These works often contained text that told the nonlinear narratives of marginalized BIPOC and LGBTQ people. But it was dance’s ability to speak deeply through an abstract metaphoric language that gave these works their emotional wallop and potential to jump the boundaries between us. I knew how to speak most accessibly through text, but I knew how to speak most deeply through dance. If the goal was to create bridges, then abstract kinetic languages were the stepping-stones to those bridges. And making work in this way was enough.
Until it was not.
2022: With the advantage of time, I look back at the creation of Enough?. I had entered the studio filled with both the despair of watching the slaughter of Black bodies and the hope of watching the response by millions that became BLM, as if life were a roller coaster plummeting between heaven and hell. That roller coaster became the core of Enough?.
The piece begins with the first in a series of projected tweet-like text passages: “I have been thinking a lot about what a dance can ‘do’.” We see the performers, Ryan and Wendy, in stillness as Aretha Franklin’s rendition of “A Change Is Gonna Come” begins, a recording that is lushly beautiful even as it calls for deep change. The dancers begin one long single phrase of sumptuous movement that matches the lushness of the music. As Aretha hits a gospel-inflected high note and bends it as only Aretha can, the text passages read “YUUUUUUMMM!!” “Did your heart jump like your toes were skipping ’cross the clouds?” The intersection of words, music and dance feels sublime. The dancers repeat the same exact phrase over and over, all the while dancing faster and faster; the swirling curves of lushness slowly transform into a jagged thrashing frenzy. At the apex of this superhuman speed the intersection of words, music and dance feels like a whirlwind of despair. Media coverage of Walter Scott being shot by law enforcement is projected into the work as the core of Enough? is revealed to be a searing indictment of the murder of African Americans. The text reads “A dance can show you how my heart feels when I see that video.” “Because that video makes my heart feel like Ryan and Wendy are dancing.” “Right now.” “A dance can tell you how quickly life moves from toes touching clouds to hearts mired in hell.” Aretha’s voice ends. The only sound is the dancer’s gasping breath as Ryan and Wendy fall to the ground exhausted. The final passages of text read, “Yep, dance can do all that.” “But when I see that video, I am left to wonder…is it enough?”
Enough? altered again my choreographic tactics towards creating socially engaged choreography. The text asks whether we can act while its deeper undercurrents—the movement—insists that we must act. The “narrator” (assumedly the choreographer) is less someone to identify with than a neutral voice to propel the conversation forward. Questioning the adequacy of my own response invites you to question the adequacy of your response; our viewing the news footage “together” asks whether your heart also feels like Ryan and Wendy are dancing when you view an assault on Black bodies. Enough? does not seek empathy towards a character. It seeks empathy towards a political movement; it seeks to spur you into action not because you care about the narrator, but because you care about Walter Scott, because you care about humanity.
I went to protests. I made donations. But when I was truly lost I did the one thing I could rely on: I made a dance. Was that Enough? That is for the viewer to decide. But tapping into the immense power of performance to provoke, to prod, to move, to have heartfelt conversations in a seemingly heartless time—that felt like the most important thing I could do.
Choreographer/writer/director/filmmaker David Roussève has created 14 full evening works for his company David Roussève/REALITY.
I’m a white choreographer based on the ancestral lands of the Ramaytush Ohlone people, otherwise known as San Francisco. My recent book, Shifting Cultural Power: Questions and Case Studies in Performance, imagines equity-based models in dance that decenter whiteness.
Writing about anti-racism work is a fraught endeavor because, as a white person, I’ll always have blind spots. For example, the book includes a list of “25 Practices for Decolonizing Dance (and finding your Poetic Nerve).” In retrospect, I should have used different language.
“Decolonize” has become a ubiquitous term because colonialism is everywhere. Colonial legacies exist not only outside of us, in sociopolitical power dynamics, but also in our bodies. Colonial legacies pervade dominant cultural notions of time, value, space and language.
But Eve Tuck and K. Wayne Yang’s article “Decolonization is not a metaphor” criticizes use of the term in contexts other than the repatriation of Indigenous land, saying that decolonization “is not a metaphor for other things we want to do to improve our societies.” Holding Tuck and Yang’s article in mind, I want to be more specific with my language when I talk about reorganizing the field to resist complicity with legacies of oppression. We can ask many questions that interrogate power and privilege in the field: How can we compose bodies in space and time without asserting power over those bodies? How can we resist monolithic meaning in dance? How do we disentangle authority from authorship? How can dancemaking be liberatory for everyone involved? How can we anchor dancemaking in authentic community and in trust? How can we dismantle white supremacy in the field? These questions are related to the important economic and political work of decolonization, but not synonymous with it.
“There’s value in putting ourselves in a destabilized space and listening for what comes next.”
Hope Mohr
Courtesy Mohr.
I want to talk about aligning choreographic practice with commitments to mutual liberation. This is necessarily both structural and personal work. We must reorganize the underpinnings of art practice: our organizations, agreements with collaborators and relationships in the studio. We must democratize arts leadership, demand equitable contracting, train arts workers in cultural competency, add Indigenous representation to boards and staff, center BIPOC artists in programming, honor Indigenous protocol by acknowledging Native land, and advocate for reparations for the displacement of Indigenous peoples.
And politics don’t stop at the studio door. How can we integrate political commitments into our dances, our bodies?
With this context in mind, I offer this revised list of prompts from Shifting Cultural Power: “25 Practices for Aligning Choreographic Practice with a Commitment to Mutual Liberation.”
The space should not be white-dominated. Indigenous people and people of color should be fully integrated, engaged, empowered, acknowledged and respected in the cast, crew and artistic staff.
Practice sustained listening.
Encourage imperfection and doubt (yours and others).
Slow down. Value pause. Waste time. Wander.
Value pleasure.
Invite excess, kitsch, camp, sentimentality and overmuchness.
Orient the dance and its systems outward. Make in relationship. Make dance in the mess of the world.
Allow the dancing to be invisible, ambiguous and illegible.
There is no original, truest version of movement. Movement material is collectively owned and authored.
Allow edges to be a part of the landscape of the dance. Refuse a fixed front.
Be transparent about your needs and your fallibility as an artist. Be clear about the terms of the work with yourself and your collaborators. Name collaborative periods of work. Name when you need to author or edit.
Acknowledge and credit sources of movement, both in the studio (“This is a phrase that Jane made.” “I pulled this idea off of YouTube.”) and in promotional materials (“This dance was co-created by…”).
Allow for multiplicity: multiple voices, multiple variables, multiple vocabularies. Develop a vocabulary of inclusion sourced from multiple bodies. What does it mean to express authorship amidst multiplicity?
Acknowledge and pay attention to how everyone in the room works at different processing speeds. Orient the process to different people’s sense of time.
Explore what it might mean for the dance to be porous. What can you let into the space of the dance?
Practice making without a show in mind. Hold the creative process lightly while still staying engaged, accountable and supportive of others in the space.
Allow improvisation to take over the process. Maintain a state of radical uncertainty about what the dance might become.
Allow for sustained movement research outside of the task of making. Find creative modes beyond composition and mimicry.
Collaborate with people and places that destabilize and challenge authorship.
Question your choices. Question instinctual preferences. Work with a palette you despise. Stay with an idea much longer than you think is appropriate.
Invite other people’s emotional lives into the work.
Invite other people to hijack the process.
Practice financial transparency about artist pay, project budget and funding sources.
Show up with no agenda. Work with what and who is in the room.
Be vulnerable.
If I were to implement all of the above prompts, I might not end up making a dance at all. But there’s value in putting ourselves in a destabilized space and listening for what comes next. These are prompts for locating your political and poetic nerve. Poetic nerve does not necessarily mean surrendering authorship. It means going beyond yourself, and then back within again, and then again out past yourself, and so on, in a constant conversation between the dance and the world.
Doing the Work
These ideas are not mine. Throughout the vast and violent span of colonial history, dance artists, especially Native artists and artists of color, have been doing and continue to do this work. There’s Sydnie L. Mosley, advocating for liberation of dance pedagogy through practices such as acknowledging that “all dance forms are specific cultural practice and should be acknowledged and specifically named as such”; Mar Parrilla’s cultural exchange projects with Puerto Rico–based artists and members of the Aquinnah Wampanoag tribe to explore colonial legacies; Emily Johnson, whose decolonization rider calls on presenter partners to commit to the “living process” of decolonization, including compliance with Indigenous Protocol, acknowledgment of host Nations in all press, and engagement with the Indigenous community. There are countless other examples.
Why am I, as a white person, even trying to talk about decolonization? Because for too long, Indigenous people and people of color have shouldered this work. In the words of feminist writer Judit Moschkovich, “it is not the duty of the oppressed to educate the oppressor.” White people must do this work too.
Q&A: What tools or tactics are you using in the studio to liberate your choreographic practice?
Randy Basso, Courtesy Herrera.
David Herrera, artistic director and choreographer for David Herrera Performance Company:
“I channel movement through emotional recall and muscle memory to return to a time when studio teachings did not dictate how I performed or danced. I swayed, gyrated, stomped, shook my hips, pranced and spun before I ever stepped into a modern dance class. Through this approach, I am actively shedding the heavily calloused, conditioned layers of white modern dance technique. It’s a slow and arduous process; a relearning of feeling, instinct and physicality. I aim to liberate myself from the burden of aesthetics that were not inherent to my cultural upbringing or my brown body.”
Deeksha Prakash, Courtesy Kambara.
Yayoi Kambara, dancer, choreographer, teacher and director of KAMBARA+: “I dismantle systems of oppression, colonization and power by creating space to liberate our imaginations. I build artistic teams that value curiosity and mistakes. I confront my intentions behind each movement. Ballet is associated with whiteness, but it’s part of my training. When I’m making movement that twists, curves, quirks and springs, something from ballet often appears. I love a good à la seconde. But à la seconde has no inherent value. When à la seconde shows up in my choreography, it can be anything: honest, strong, vulnerable. No two bodies do it identically. Often I pause inside a ballet position and then fall out of it. Just as I consider the values behind my movement, my dances invite audiences to consider their own values.” —As told to Hope Mohr
You caught us. We’re undeniably hooked on Austin Goodwin’s flair for hilarious honesty about the dance industry. In one of his wittiest Instagram videos, he asks his landlord if he can pay rent with “exposure,” since that’s the form of payment he often accepts from freelance jobs. “How many times have we heard ‘Look, there’s no money in this, but it’s going to be great exposure,’” he told Dance Magazine in a recent interview. “I mean, come on, no one’s going to watch this muffin commercial and want to book me for a Broadway show or a European tour. I need to pay my bills.”
We’ve all had those same hushed thoughts before, but this past year, Goodwin has brought them out into the open. Through short videos on his Instagram account—usually a close-up of him acting out two sides of an awkward conversation—he riffs on real-life dance situations and uses humor to offer relatable takes on auditions, creative processes and more. With a career spanning from Sleep No More to Broadway’s Fiddler on the Roof and Netflix’s Tick, Tick… Boom!, the Juilliard-trained dancer certainly knows the ins and outs of the industry. And thousands of likes, shares and comments later, the laughs he provides have sparked important conversations and united the community in a much deeper purpose.
What was your personal inspiration to make these videos?
I think we’re in such a strange, wonderful and sometimes kind of awful industry that people don’t really understand. And I thought a way to help people understand, and also to help other dancers connect about the personal things we hold on to, was to make everyone laugh at it.
But there’s a larger conversation happening too, and I think the pandemic has allowed dancers to sit back and really look at their experiences and see the way we’re often treated. A lot of us have had our jobs literally ripped away from us, and if we’re freelancers, we’re left with no protection. I don’t always want to be hypercritical of the dance industry because I’m obviously a part of that community and it’s a community I love and have great respect for. But I think we’ve had an opportunity to look at the systems that are not working. And to look at our experiences with choreographers, with schools, with bodies…to see the way we fit ourselves into this mold that really is not healthy in some ways. It can be a relief to feel like “Oh, my god. I’ve done that. I’ve been there. That’s happened to me or that’s happened to someone that I know.”
In your ideal world, what changes do you hope these videos could bring about?
I hope people can start asking for things that would allow someone who pursues dance as a career to really have a livelihood without holding multiple jobs at the same time. We want to be able to start families and buy homes and pay off our student loans. I hope to have more support from the government, from each other. I want dancers to not be afraid to ask for what they deserve. What they really deserve. I think we so often dismiss it all because we really want the job. But you can want the job and also ask for the things you deserve as a human being.
For example, I hope to have a dialogue about dancers generating material and recognizing the creative contributions that they’re not given credit for. How can companies look at that process and pay their dancers accordingly? And if those pieces are then remounted elsewhere, how can royalties be implemented? Even if it’s just a small royalty. It’s still the act of doing it that shows care and respect.
Whenever I watch your videos, I can’t help but wonder what else is going on in the room around you at that moment.
It’s usually just my partner, Paul, sitting in the kitchen, watching me go off on a tangent.
But sometimes he’s the cameraman, and we often have to start over because he’ll just laugh hysterically to the point where we both end up in fits, unable to move on.
But that must be so therapeutic for you!
Oh, that’s a huge part of why I do it. Some of the videos are based on things I’ve really been through, and being able to find humor in them has been fun but also incredibly healing.
So how can humor help us stay grounded during difficult times?
Right now it’s scary. It’s emotional. Everyone is carrying around a lot of anxiety. There’s political turmoil, environmental distress. And everyone is having their own personal awakening, whether they’re talking about it or not. In this pandemic, we’ve been forced to look at ourselves straight on, and I think humor allows us to do that and to unite with other people in the process. Everything is funny in some way. It helps. It keeps us in check. Humor brings empathy. And at the end of the day, if you can find a way to laugh at it, you can get through it.