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The life of a professional dancer is full of wonderful friendships and unforgettable moments. Was there a celebration after the show, everyone sparkling, excited, full of adrenalin, and you got home late and elated? Well with luck today might be a day off. The thing is, after so much excitement, this sudden normality seems flat. No-one around, just you, laundry, breakfast dishes — the contrast is marked. It’s not much fun. So here’s the trick — use today for maintenance. You need rest — just drop everything and take a day off. Walk under trees or by the river, get sun on your skin and fresh air in your lungs, or just listen to the patter of the rain, or hang with a friend from the company. Don’t sit around moping, use the time. It’s your life, get on and live it.
“I was very happy that I was as normal as possible before I went into serious dance.” — Suzanne Farrell
You’ll be busy dancing again soon. There are rehearsals for current and forthcoming productions. There’s class — you need maximal concentration and self-discipline to grow technically and artistically every day, so use it all. Watch other dancers; learn their neatness and precision. Listen to everyone’s corrections, apply them, be inquisitive. Watch rehearsals, performances, stage calls, orchestra calls. Check out other theatres, other companies, dance centres and schools. You might make friends there; maybe you could do class with them. Watch online videos – maybe you’ll see a great variation, or a novel technical solution. It’s all there for you.
“Nothing in this world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not: nothing is more common than the unsuccessful man with talent. Genius will not: unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not: the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent“. — Calvin Coolidge
Whenever shows come through on tour, try to catch them. There might be tickets, possibly even comps. If you can’t watch performance, ask to see rehearsal. Just go on being around dancing, and learn all you can, all the time. Pick up concerts, art galleries, festivals, galas, museums, travelling circuses, all of it.
“Every ballet, whether or not successful artistically or with the public has given me something important“. — Mikhail Baryshnikov
Very important — keep yourself fit. If you smoke (I hope not…) try to stop – if not, don’t start. Too many dancers smoke, probably because of peer pressure, but you shouldn’t. It shortens your life by years, damaging your lungs, skin, teeth, bones, clothes, breath, furniture and potentially your social life. Also, most theatres ban smoking indoors, forcing dancers to huddle outside with their cigarettes in all weathers, sweaty and inappropriately dressed, risking their health even more. Smokeless cigarettes are dangerous too, filled with toxic chemicals. Also, you can inhale second-hand smoke which you can’t even smell — you won’t know it’s happening.
Then there’s alcohol, and here the key is moderation. Maybe you’re not used to boozy evenings, but there will be parties, or you’ll go out with friends, have people round to dinner, cook something yourself. These can be fantastic evenings. A beer or a glass of wine may all be part of it. Try to remember there’s a limit to how much alcohol you can safely absorb. You may not even notice if you exceed that limit (other people will, though). Afterwards, late at night in a still-unfamiliar city, can you get yourself safely home? This can be inconvenient, frightening, even dangerous — you could be hurt, mugged, or worse. Think carefully about this before the fun starts; monitor yourself. Keep your glass in view all the time, know what’s in it. Drink at least as much water as anything else, and if you begin to lose control, stop at once. Too much alcohol does strange, nasty things to your body, your body, the one you’ve trained and cherished and maintained all your life. What you want and love, more than anything, is dancing. Never endanger your instrument; you might regret it all your life.
“Dancers are athletes of God“. — Albert Einstein
Develop an instinct for self-preservation. Don’t walk home alone at night — share a taxi with someone you trust. Don’t get into or near a car driven by anyone who shouldn’t be driving. Public transport isn’t always safe — check your options beforehand. If you must walk, go with friends, and watch out for potential danger. Organize your homeward journey before the evening begins and stick to your plan.
The other thing is drugs, and believe me, they’re not “harmless”. If you don’t know what it is and what it does, don’t take it. Far too many people try something merely “for fun”, and wind up damaged for life. That, for you, would be pathetic. Let’s just agree that you don’t need to go there.
Another question: how are you doing, yourself? You’ve been there a while now and you’re fitting in well. You love your job, you work hard and conscientiously, and you hope this gets noticed. An occasional note of approval in the voice of a director or choreographer can make your day. Maybe you’re improving technically, too. Turns feel easier, strength and flexibility develop as the season goes on. And of course there are friends. Yet somehow, something’s missing, and sometimes you’re thoughtful, maybe even a little sad.
What’s going on? Perhaps you miss your family; when you call them, it feels a little better. Even so, living by yourself in a strange place is hard, especially the evenings, coming home alone, knowing no-one’s been there since you went out after breakfast. Your mornings are fine because you know you’re going to see everyone soon, your days are filled with activity and excitement and friends. But in the solitary evenings, your private space feels empty, missing something precious. You’re lonely.
“Dancers work and live from the inside. They drive themselves constantly, producing a glow that lights not only themselves, but audience after audience.” — Murray Louis
The thing is, dancers tend to be beautiful. They have wonderful bodies, they move superbly, they radiate intensity and energy. Audiences are attracted to them, fascinated by them. And of course, dancers are attracted to each other as well – how could they not be? They spend all day together, striving in concert for perfection, surrounded by amazing music, creativity, artistic idealism and constant physical contact. Sooner or later in this atmosphere, something’s got to give. There will be attractions, and eventually, relationships. Maybe you’ve got someone who keeps popping into your mind, someone you seriously fancy…
“To watch us dance is to hear our hearts speak“.
— Hopi Indian Proverb
That’s fine — unless someone else has the same idea. Pitfalls surround these relationships. If your someone is already spoken for, it gets tricky. You can try to lure them away, but you’ll be running two risks. You might fail, which would hurt you. Or you might succeed, which is great for you both, but hurts someone else, and can even set up a negative thing in the Company. People may feel they have to take sides, and a them-and-us mentality can quickly develop in the group. This tears apart the subtle, unspoken web of friendships, alliances, conspiracies and understandings which hold every Company together. You could seriously damage this team you love, and of which you are so proud to be a part. Think about this. Ask yourself what you want. Is it honestly worth the cost? Don’t do anything irreversible until you’ve reached a clear, morally sound decision.
You see, you’re on an annual contract; so are all your friends. Dancers who want to leave, can do so (subject to contractual stipulations) when the season ends. If the direction decides not to renew the contract, the same applies. And so your personal life or choice of partner will always be conditioned by this simple fact: one day, one or both of you might be leaving. If you can deal with that, fine. If it’s serious, however, be aware that most companies don’t engage couples, they hire individuals. For two principal dancers, there might be a chance, maybe even for one principal and companion. However, two group-dancers hoping for two simultaneous contracts in the same company are being very optimistic, and it may not work. What happens then? Either you separate, and break both your hearts, or you try to stay connected long-distance, with one of you dancing in a different company, a different city, a different country or continent. This is rough. Dancing is hard enough already without trying to do love-by-email. It may seem straightforward at first; commuting for delightful weekends together. The pressure will build, though; there’ll be times one of you can’t make it, there’ll be performances, tours, new social situations. The gaps between meetings (and between you) will get wider. You try to rediscover or reinvent yourselves every time you meet; this brings its own problems. Sooner or later one of you will buckle, and it will all fall to pieces. This may be a blessing in disguise, but it’s very distressing, and interferes with your work (you are still trying to dance, aren’t you?).
A relationship with someone else in the theatre, a technician, for example, is in some ways easier to manage. Technicians don’t always have annual contracts, so they have a bigger choice of alternative jobs. What can be complicated is an attachment between a dancer and a director or ballet-master; sooner or later there will be accusations of favoritism within the company. I speak from experience; my wife danced in a company where I was staging a ballet. I came back very soon to be their ballet-master, and we’ve been married for thirty years. We’ve enjoyed an amazing life, but at the time there was a lot of Company gossip (not all of it kind or disinterested). If you do get into this kind of relationship, it can work fantastically and lead to great happiness, but the road you follow may not always be either easy or comfortable, so be aware of what you’re getting into, and be ready to stick by each other.
“My advice for life; dance and sing your song while the party’s still on“.
— Rasheed Ogonlaru
© Jeremy Leslie-Spinks
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