Tag: Why Dance Matters

How much is your career a process of serendipity or happy accident?

I think serendipity sums me up completely. If I think about my career, lots of things have happened by chance – I’ve bumped into somebody, or someone has overheard me and jumped in – and then it becomes something else. I absolutely love the word serendipity, and it felt like the perfect name for the company.

There is also a real sense of intent in your projects – what is the thread that connects everything?

It’s making the invisible visible, and it’s also about changing the lens. They run concurrently – you can’t do one without the other. We should always give an opportunity to hear another side of the story, offering people an opportunity to see something else and to recognise that other cultural groups and frameworks have the same sort of sophistication. 

How did your dance journey begin?

I love dance, and it’s been part of my whole life. I’ve got four brothers and, to use a phrase that is not fashionable anymore, my parents didn’t want me to be a tomboy, so I ended up at dance school. My dad taught me to tap dance and also played steel pan. On a Sunday, after dad had played cricket, he’d do the musical arrangements, and I would work it out with my feet. 

At the beginning of your career, there were fewer role models for Black artists. Who did you look to?

I don’t think the role models were there when I stepped into the arts. I think we’re still a little thin on the ground. I was looking at the classics: Dorothy Dandridge, Billie Holiday, the Nicholas Brothers. In terms of dance, I saw [the Russian ballerina] Galina Samsova and absolutely loved her. There wasn’t the opportunity to dance when I was younger, it just wasn’t afforded to you. You’d go for the auditions and you didn’t quite fit. You could either say, well, that’s it – or you could find another way through. 

Serendipity has just announced a new MA in Black British dance and performance. Why did you want to add that strand?

The reality is, for a lot of Black students in conservatoires or university dance courses, when they go in, they can dance but when they come out, they’re broken. Because the thing that people liked about them, is the thing that is taken away. How do we give that back? It’s really important that they still should have some of themselves. Young people should know about the Caribbean or Africa, and bring that to their work. Hopefully the course will allow them to push the boundaries and find out things that make them proud about who they are.

What is it for you that is distinctively British in Black British performance?

Here, there is more opportunity to be different. In America, the top Black dance companies are all ballet based. Here, you can be contemporary, you can be political. You can find your own voice. I think the Brits are good at being unique. 

We’re seeing a pushback, especially in the US, against diversity initiatives. Do you fear that the work that you’ve done might be rolled back?

When we have adversity, the best work is always born. If you think about all the challenges that diverse communities have had over the years, that’s where we found our greatest artists. They somehow found a way to shine through. People like Billie Holiday having to black up to sing, even though she was Black. All the angst that they gave her because she wanted to sing something like Strange Fruit. Artists always push forward. No one ever said it would be easy, but I think we are yet to see some absolutely fabulous work.

Pawlet, why does dance matter to you?

The very first thing that you ever do is movement. The ability to move and gracefully get through life, with music – it lifts me and it gets you through everything. Dance matters to me, because I think anybody can do it, anyone can be a part of it. You don’t have to be a professional. It’s something very personal.

Why Dance Matters

Why Dance Matters is the RAD’s podcast – a monthly series of conversations with extraordinary people from the world of dance and beyond. Please do listen and subscribe.

LISTEN

Hear the full interview with Pawlet Brookes

RESOURCES

Serendipity Institute for Black Arts and Heritage

Has your journey into dance influenced the work you make?

I got into dance because life was a little bit challenging for me as a young person. I became a carer for my mum and dance was my way of expressing and releasing. I had to grow up quite quickly, but when I was in the dance class, I could be my age. 

I don’t believe that you need to have a PhD to understand dance. For me, it’s about making work where people are impacted and have an experience. There was a period of time where I had to fight myself about: am I making art, or am I making entertainment? Now I claim those words, it is about making work that’s accessible, where even if people don’t fully get what’s going on, there’s something in the work that they connect with, and that speaks to them. 

Is it true Our Mighty Groove was inspired by an experience you had in New York? 

Oh, we’re going there? I wanted to explore different dance styles, and got a bursary, which enabled me to go to New York in 2008. We had just finished a house dance class, and the teachers would always say that to understand the style, you’ve got to take it out of the classroom. So I head to this club, and am met with the most incredible group of human beings. The vibe was jumping, people were getting down. And a strange thing happened – all my confidence left me. I was telling myself, I’m not good enough, I don’t belong. I had my back up against the wall, and every so often, people would come up to try to get me to dance. And all I could say was, Oh, no, no, I’m from London. So cringy, but it’s all I had! 

Eventually this individual wearing a pink crown made of sausage balloons started getting closer and closer. They didn’t speak a word, just extended their hand and motioned for me to follow. It was as if there was a magnetic force. I found myself move off the wall and into the centre, and the magical thing was everyone cheered me on. I was getting, ‘Yes, Mama!’ ‘Work!’ ‘Go, girl!’. They made me feel like Janet Jackson. Something happened in that moment. I was unlocked as a human being. I was empowered as a woman, as an artist. I danced hard and was one of the last people to leave. I wanted to create something to give other people this experience of connection and celebration, and that was how the idea of Our Mighty Groove was born. 

Was it challenging to create mass choreography for the opening ceremony of the London Olympics in 2012?

It’s about treating people with respect and kindness. The scale is different, but the people are still people. And on a practical level, my warm ups are really good at getting people involved.

The opening ceremony itself was euphoric, a mind-blowing, out of body experience. Hearing the roar of the audience – it’s giving me goosebumps now to remember it. 

You also coach and mentor women, with the mission statement: think fierce, be fabulous, live free spirited.

A big part of my work is working with established creatives. The dance industry can be nice and at times not so nice. My thing is all about how I can support you to kickstart the habit of putting you first. Because a lot of my clients are like, I’ve got to show up for everyone else, and if there’s any energy left, I can show up for me. I flip that on its head, because if you’re not in a good place, you won’t be able to show up for the people that you want to. I ask: what would it look, feel, taste, sound and smell like, for you to put you first? I’m part of your support team, and together, we can figure that out.

Why does dance matter to you?

Why does dance matter to me? It’s who I am at my core, and it’s one of the things that I use to help people discover who they are. It’s the chosen language for me to communicate and to help people understand that you are enough, and the moment you put yourself first is the moment that life will grow and move for you. When I was that 13 year old girl who had to become an adult and look after my mum and my three sisters, that was the thing that kept me sane, injected some fun and hope into my life. So that’s why it matters for me.

Why Dance Matters

Why Dance Matters is the RAD’s podcast – a monthly series of conversations with extraordinary people from the world of dance and beyond. Please do listen and subscribe.

LISTEN

Hear the full interview with Vicki Igbokwe-Ozoagu

You’re a writer, activist, role model – you’re even a Barbie! But do you still think of yourself foremost as a dancer?

Yes, I would say that dancer is at the top. I wouldn’t be the person that I am or have the opportunities that dance has afforded me if I weren’t a dancer. It plays into everything that I do, with this mission and goal which is to bring dance and ballet to more people and to have a conversation about the lack of diversity in ballet.

Joy can sometimes be corrected out of ballet – how do you hold onto it?

No one’s ever pointed that out before but it’s true. I was in an atmosphere where my teacher saw my talent and nurtured it and made sure that I was protected. There was of course negativity and racism happening around me, but I think because I had such a positive experience it became something more to me. 

The only experience in my almost 25-year professional career where I’ve experienced nerves to the point of not being able to physically do what I needed to do was the first time I performed Odette-Odile in Swan Lake. So many generations of Black women have been told: you will never be the Swan Queen, you will never be able to fit into Swan Lake. So all of that was in the back of my mind when all of a sudden at 32 years old – which is ancient in ballet! – I was given the opportunity to perform the role. I was trying to undo the generational trauma of Black dancers before me who were told they couldn’t be a part of this. I really had to dig deep. I started seeing a sports psychologist to deal with a performance anxiety that I’d never experienced my whole career and it was all around that expectation.

Do you enjoy passing on your experience to new generations of dancers?

It’s not something I ever imagined I would do, but I feel like it’s our duty – not just in ballet or as women but as human beings – to pass on our experiences to the next generation so they can be more than us. It’s never even been a thought in my mind that I wouldn’t share what I’ve gone through. The work that I’m trying to do within the ballet community is to make it a more inviting, inclusive space. I’ll be doing that work for as long as I’m here.

Nine years ago you became the first female African-American Principal at American Ballet Theatre. Were you prepared for the reaction that news caused?

[The public interest] was so bizarre to me. You could feel it palpitating in the audiences. That season I was promoted, I had performed Swan Lake for the first time earlier in the year in Australia but I hadn’t performed it in America, at our home in the Metropolitan Opera House. The New York Times was coming to review it, which doesn’t typically happen for a first timer typically. There was all this expectation and it was overwhelming. But I was promoted early in the afternoon when I was due to go right into rehearsals and I was performing that night. My phone was exploding but I’m like, I’m rehearsing. Leave me alone, I’ve got work to do!

Does ballet help shut out the noise that can surround you?

That is so dead on. It’s a really helpful tool. This is why I wanted to start the Be Bold program through my foundation. Because I know there are so many children who have similar experiences to mine as a young person, or who are in atmospheres where there’s they’re not being nurtured in any way. There’s so much going on in their outside lives or in school. So to have this one place where you can let go and be free, be creative and find joy – with a support system and someone who cares – that to me is the real core of why I wanted to start this program. It’s what ballet has brought to me. I’ve had a lot of obstacles along the way and it’s been really challenging, but it’s what I think has saved me in so many ways. 

You’ve done so much – would your younger self have expected any of this?

Oh my gosh. No way. Absolutely not. I saw dance as a way out, a way to grow and to have more happiness in my life. But I didn’t think that it would ever reach these heights. I give so much credit to my first ballet teacher Cynthia Bradley. Months after I had started dancing with her, she said to me one day: ‘Misty, you’re going to dine with kings and queens and dance all over the world on the most important stages.’ I remember looking at her like, she is off her rocker. But she had a vision and she saw potential. I’ve always been so grateful for the opportunity to be exposed to dance and I’ve done as much as I can with the opportunity.

Why does dance matter to you?

Dance matters to me because it has been essential in shaping who I am as a person and who I will continue to be.

Why Dance Matters

Why Dance Matters is the RAD’s podcast – a series of conversations with extraordinary people from the world of dance and beyond. Misty Copeland launces the new season of on Why Dance Matters, the RAD’s podcast, on 13 June. Other guests this season include Kenyan ballet teacher Michael Wamaya and breakdancing opera star Josef Jakub Orlinksi. Please do listen and subscribe.

How did you first learn to dance?

My mother was a dancer, and then she opened a dance studio. Both my sister and I were kind of babysat there. My sister went on to play soccer, but I stuck with it. Soccer was definitely not my specialty – my mom said I used to dance down the field! 

Did you love ballet from the beginning?

Growing up, I was a very strong jazz dancer. We also did ballet, but it was a challenge. But I’ve never liked putting myself in situations where I could already do something, or was the best at it – there’s no fun in that. That’s how I’ve continued in my career – always surround yourself with people that are better. I’m constantly yearning to learn more.

You received a severe injury in 2019 – that must have been a very difficult time?

I suffered a really bad herniated disc in my neck. It was a very traumatic injury – I woke up one morning and couldn’t move my head without so much pain. To hear: “you’re probably never going to dance again”, or “we don’t know if this is going to heal” – that was really hard. I feel my best when I am dancing, so it felt like a huge part of my being was missing. I was invited to make Thousandth Orange for the Vail Dance Festival. I said, normally I do the movements on myself. How am I going to do that when I can’t move? It was a much different process than anything I’d done before because I had to focus on the dancers’ bodies instead of using my own. I love what came out of it.

You made The Barre Project with the choreographer William Forsythe during lockdown – how did that come about?

William Forsythe and I had tried to work together a few times but our schedules never worked. During the lockdown, I hit a point where I was missing being creative. It felt like a lot of time was being lost. So I texted Bill and said, I know it’s not ideal, but would you want to make something? And he wrote back right away and said, ‘Well, when would you want to start? Tomorrow?’ We never met in person, but spent every day together on Zoom – it was one of the best times of my life.

Why does dance matter to you?

Dance matters to me because I truly believe that it’s healing. Since my injury, I know that it is healing to me. It’s always been the way I express myself and get my emotions out. But I also believe that it’s healing for those that are watching because it has the ability to transport them to a different place for that moment in time.

Why Dance Matters

Why Dance Matters is the RAD’s podcast – a series of conversations with extraordinary people from the world of dance and beyond hosted by David Jays, editor of Dance Gazette. The fifth season of Why Dance Matters also includes conversations with choreographers Dame Arlene Phillips and Francesca Harper, RAD teacher and examiner Ana Maria Campos and Tim Arthur, the RAD’s Chief Executive. Please do listen and subscribe.