Too often, when people call to inquire about my classes, they ask, “Do you focus on technique?”
I don’t even know how to answer that. What is a class if not technique? Class is technique. Yes we explore style, artistry and expression, but without technique, none of that matters.
The details make the dancer. And those details take years to develop.
Invest in the long game. The basics never go out of style.
I was a Radio City Rockette for 10 years, so I got to have the experience of achieving a top job in the industry that so many dancers aspire to. But along the way, there are some moments and periods that I definitely could’ve done without. The thing is, those are the valuable nuggets I have to pass on to anyone I teach, so I’d never frame them as “regrets.”
Here’s a list of my “coulda woulda shoulda” things, combined with things that I’m forever grateful for.
• I’m grateful that I followed my own path, seeking out as many opportunities to train as I could find, while always having my anchors for formative training.
• A tool I wished I’d learned earlier was being better at connecting with people. Talent alone is never enough. Let it be natural and not forced, but it’s a skill that, like anything, needs to be practiced.
• I’m grateful that I never let negative talk from my teachers or peers stop me, and there was a good amount. I definitely defied their expectations. I was good at not letting things stop me. It’s more challenging now with social media!
• I wish I wouldn’t have been so intimidated by other artists. Making the leap from Rockette-land to soloing as a tap dancer was a daunting one. I feared nobody would take me seriously in the tap world. I let that inhibit my journey sometimes.
• I’m grateful for the mentors I had, because they changed my life, and THAT’s what I get to pass on.
• I wish I’d learned to sing when I was younger. But I can’t look back, PLUS we didn’t have all the resources back then, as far as seeking out ideal teachers. PLUS I didn’t know I’d love musical theatre so much.
• I’m grateful to have come of age in an analog world. We got to live in the moment so much more. I hope Gen Z and Gen Alpha can experience that feeling, and for my fellow Gen X-ers, this is my year of channeling my early 20’s self and rediscovering that reckless abandon.
• I wish I’d have realized sooner that I can only be what I am right now. Too much time was spent wishing I were better at this or better at that, or wondering what ‘they’ didn’t see in me but saw in someone else. It’s all ok.
• I’m grateful that I’m never done learning, that the more I know, the more I know that I don’t know, and it makes me excited rather than anxious.
• And finally, I wish I’d have found my voice as a choreographer sooner. I let the naysayers get the best of me on that one. It doesn’t have to be amazing every single time. Just play and create, and some of it will be great.
When kids, in my case girls, are growing into their bodies, they’re discovering what they can do. I don’t know where my 7-8 year-old students learned to move like they do when I give them some counts to freestyle, but they sure know how to isolate their hips, followed by a peace sign with their tongues out. Where did they learn that?! I’m sure I can guess.
I won’t inhibit them or shame them for moving in that way. They are learning to express through movement. They’re figuring out the different ways they can move their bodies, and they aren’t mature enough to understand what potential messages those movements can send or the kind of attention they’ll possibly attract.
We, as adults who do know, understand those potential messages. We have a responsibility to put kids on stage performing choreography that fits their age and maturity level, in costumes that fit their age and maturity level.
Let the kids move and be free with themselves during their own class time. I’ll never make a child feel ashamed of the way they move their body. But as their leader and mentor, I will protect them from being put on stage doing anything above their maturity level.
Let’s talk comps! “Tricks win” is a common sentiment regarding dance competitions and judging. Threads inquiring about what judges are looking for is is another common topic of conversation. Complaints about critiques are prevalent. I’m going to break this down.
Executing tricks for the sake of tricks is not interesting. It’s not something I want to see or something that is impressive. 99% of turns in second on the competition stage are not stage ready. A majority of pirouettes done on the competition stage are not stage ready. Aerials are almost always not interesting. Heel stretches (I don’t enjoy calling them that, but you know what I mean) are almost always not done correctly. You see what I mean. I could go on.
When I sit at the judges table, I’m not looking for anything specific, but what does move me and make me excited is authenticity. When a choreographer and/or dancer finds a piece of music that moves them, and the movement follows the arc and dynamics of the song, the audience feels that. They get that. Realness is more desirable than a string of technical elements lacking individual stylistic quality.
BUT if the sequence of “tricks” is executed with technical proficiency, it’s going to score well. We are judging technique, stage presence and precision. Even if I don’t like it, I’m scoring it high if it’s executed well.
It’s true that judges’ critiques can often fall short. A common complaint is that the judges don’t talk throughout the dance, then give a score. I agree that we do need to hear from whoever’s adjudicating. If a dance is very good and I find myself not speaking as much, I articulate that. It’s something like: “I am really enjoying this and that’s why I’m not saying a lot. Your technique and artistry are exquisite.”
If, as we sometimes do, we get a judge that doesn’t really know what they’re talking about, but they at least keep talking through the dance, cool. Honestly, cool. I’m (almost) never mad at that because it’s just not productive. In the end, if we are on that hypothetical professional stage, our audience doesn’t know dance but they know what they enjoy. Connection = success.
If we can take a genre that generally has a narrow audience and bring awareness to a broader audience, that’s what it’s all about. Think: Twyla. If a judge doesn’t know tap (they should, but… you know) yet the choreography moves and has relatable rhythms, dynamics and style, then it will more often than not adjudicate well. If it doesn’t, we take a look at it and see what we can improve, or we shrug it off and try again next time.